Page 68 of Degrees of Power
“Call or text when you arrive. I’ll connect with Sheldon and sincerely hope all is well with your parents when you arrive,” he says before disconnecting and I buckle in for takeoff.
“Everything okay?” Sheldon asks, peeking into the cabin just as I wipe the tears that have escaped from my eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good. When can I get onto the internet?” I ask, needing so badly to throw myself into work.
“As soon as we take off you should be good to go. Chase has it set up so he can work the entire trip,” he says.
“Perfect, I have a lot to do,” I say, slipping off my shoes and curling my feet underneath me on the soft leather recliner, hitting the remote to reduce the lighting and igniting the floor-to-ceiling fireplace that lets off an ambiance of blue sparkling warmth in the otherwise dimmed room.
The takeoff is perfect and once we’re in the air I set about signing on to my email to take care of all the Prestian Medical facility needs. The Chicago designs have been approved by the state and the detailed designs inside the approved footprint are starting to shape up nicely. I send a few notes on the proposed workflows to the lean advisors and sign onto Jenny’s email.
I peruse the emails and respond to some, but catch my breath as I see the one from Carlos Larussio which was sent earlier in the day.
Katarina,
I can’t tell you enough how pleased I was to hear that you will be temporarily overseeing the purchase of land for the future site of The Larussio in Las Vegas, the demolition of existing properties, and design of the casinos. I have attached the vision for the venues, which should assist your design teams. Please let me know if questions exist or further assistance can be provided. I am most excited and privileged to be working with you.
Carlos Larussio (otherwise referred to as Dad).
I begin reviewing the documents he has attached and can’t suppress the emotion and tears that overtake me as I read through his vision for the organization going forward. The luxury of the hotel rooms includes whirlpools and private balconies which overlook the city or mountains depending on desire, the spa is set up to pamper and cater to the sensual desires of those that stay in the hotel, and the in-room amenities include tuck down service, couples massage, room service and basically anything you would want for a couples weekend or longer in Vegas. I recall the conversations with my mom about his family’s history, what I’ve read and come to learn about my father’s earlier years, and can’t help but feel proud of what he’s trying to achieve for his family going forward. The tears slide down my face again realizing the very real possibility that he may never be able to recognize his dream.
The captain announces the impending descent and I take the next couple of minutes to finish responding to email before heading into the master bedroom to compose myself. I wipe my red rimmed eyes with a cool cloth and apply a light dusting of powder to my face along with a little lip gloss and hope that it doesn’t look as bad as what I see in the mirror before heading back to my seat to prepare for landing.
As we touch down Sheldon comes into the cabin to lead me to the awaiting limousine. “Let’s go,” Sheldon says to the driver once he and Dereck are seated. We ease into the New York City traffic with a black caddy in front of and behind us, armed with guards and I feel nothing but appreciation for their presence. The driver pulls up to the entrance and Sheldon and Dereck escort me into the hospital. My mind reverts back to the time Dad’s brother shot him in the chest and he was barely alive. I can only pray that he will be so lucky this time.
Sheldon speaks with the receptionist and we are soon on our way up a bank of elevators, arriving into a large waiting room with an expansive window looking out into bright lights of the New York skyline. Don is leaning against the glass, gazing out over the city, but turns as we walk toward him. “Kate, I wish you weren’t here under these circumstances,” he says hoarsely, pulling me into a hug.
“How bad is it?” I ask, hoping against hope that the emotion in his eyes is not an indicator.
“Your mother is listed as critical, but what they’re considering stable condition. She has multiple neck and back injuries, contusions and lacerations. They have her heavily medicated and she may need surgery to correct one or two of the disc injuries,” he says.
“What about my dad?” I ask, bracing myself as his voice cracks. “Kate, he’s not doing as well. There’s just no easy way to say this. He’s had severe brain trauma caused by the head-on impact. His brain was swelling at a rate they couldn’t control, so they had to place him into a coma,” he says.
“Can I see them?” I ask, wiping the tears from my eyes as quickly as they appear. The nurses’ station is right around the corner. Let’s see if they’ll let you in,” he says, placing his arm around me and guiding me to the desk.
“Miss, this is Katarina Prestian. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Larussio are in the trauma section. Any chance she can see them?” he asks.
“Absolutely. Families do best when they have loved ones surrounding them. If you give me one moment I’ll take her back unless you are part of the immediate family,” she says.
“Yes, Carlos is my brother, I’ll let my son know to join us, as well,” he says, walking around the corner to where Sheldon is watching with raised eyebrows at the exchange. He joins us and the nurse guides us down a hall and through a double set of doors before we enter a unit that has patient rooms around the perimeter with a large nursing station in the center. There are monitors above each patient’s door and the entire unit seems to be beeping and humming with a flurry of activity as nurses and physicians enter and exit patient rooms. She guides us to the desk and speaks with a tall ponytailed blonde lady.
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Larussio’s daughter, brother and nephew and this is Alison. She’ll take care of you from here,” she says warmly before heading back to her station.
“The police officer who arrived with the ambulance let our intake staff know that you had been contacted but were a few hours away. I’m happy to meet you and glad you were able to get here so soon. Before we go in I want to prepare you for what you’re going to see,” Alison says.
“Your mother has significant facial lacerations, bruising and swelling. This will heal with time and I don’t want it to unnecessarily alarm you. The brace around her neck is to ensure she doesn’t hurt herself moving in her sleep. She is heavily sedated and while she won’t be able to answer you, feel free to talk to her. Research that shows patients respond much better when family members are close by. When we go in by your father, you’ll see more of the same. The trauma to his head caused intensive swelling of the brain. The physicians had to place him in a coma in order to slow down the brain activity and are currently working to reduce the swelling with medications,” she says as we reach my mother’s room.
“Thank you,” I say, finally finding my voice as I walk into the room. I gasp audibly and put a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out at the vision in front of me. There are tubes, oxygen masks, IVs and monitors surrounding her. I reach her bedside and the tears begin to fall as I take in the battered and swollen face of my mother. The lacerations are numerous, having sliced through her face diagonally. I take her hand squeezing it gently, avoiding the needles that have been taped down to the outer side of her wrists.
The nurse puts her hand on my shoulder. “I can only imagine how it looks to you right now, but please know the lacerations are superficial. None required suturing, it’s her back and neck that we’re most concerned about. She’s doing great and they will heal over time,” she says gently.
“Thank you for your kindness. Would it be possible to see my dad and then come back and sit with her for awhile?” I ask.
“Absolutely. He’s in the next room. We currently need separate care teams and room equipment so they have different rooms, but we may at some point in the future be able to put them in a larger room together,” she says.
I nod. “I’d like that very much when possible,” I say, as she leads us to the next room and to the bedside of my father. His face is battered and bruised and he has a bandage across his left temple.
“Unlike your mother,” he had a pretty bad gash that required suturing,” she says, as if reading my mind.
