Status: In Progress (Comments/Suggestions Welcomed)
Rikers Island Jail Football Program
What would "The Warden" do?
Connie exited McCormick's room still smiling. Her demeanor had changed entirely, and she was now in a great mood. She made her way down the hall to the room that Devon Howard was being kept in.
Upon entering the room, Connie knew that something was off. Multiple doctors and nurses stood around Devon, who remained unconscious. Multiple machines beeped loudly with every heartbeat that Devon took. Connie felt her spirit sinking, as she made her way towards the bed.
Connie knew that the situation looked bad, but what scared her more was the look of total concern that was evident on all of the medical staff. She knew that something was up, and it was severe.
Doctors explained that Devon had yet to wake up from his unconscious state, since yesterday's game. Tests had been performed, and there was evidence of potential brain injury from the vicious blow that he took during an attack on the sideline from teammate Steve Wilson.
Doctors cautioned Connie that anything was possible at this point. They suggested that Devon could wake up and be back to normal after a brief recovery period, or he could potentially never wake up and eventually pass away. Additional possibilities included paralysis or loss of memory, or speaking ability. While the tests showed that an injury to the brain was apparent, the doctors wouldn't know the extent of the injury until he woke up.
Connie felt her heart break all over again. She looked over the limp body of Devon, and flashbacks of being bedside with "The Warden" as he attempted to survive the gunshot wounds came flying back to her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt her knees begin to buckle.
Connie dropped a little, almost allowing herself to fall to the floor and sob uncontrollably like she wanted to, but she decided that she needed to appear strong. She wobbled back up, sniffled, and cleared her throat. After a brief pause, she finally felt comfortable enough to speak without concern that her voice would break up too much.
Connie ensured the doctors that she fully trusted them to help Devon to the best of their ability. She accepted the fact that there wasn't much that could be done except waiting, and she swore that she would be back constantly to monitor how Devon was doing.
The doctors appreciated her concern, and began highlighting typical response times of similar situations, but Connie didn't really care. She didn't care about those situations, she cared about Devon's.
Connie also cared a whole lot about her pride, so she was hoping to leave the room quickly and make a break for the bathroom to sob uncontrollably as she feared the worst for Devon. Connie really didn't want the doctors to see her break down and fall to the floor, weeping for an inmate who she hadn't spoken to but maybe 5 or 6 times all season.
The doctors finally finished up the conversation, and Connie politely excused herself. She eased out of the room, and into the hallway. She located the bathroom on the hall and began to rush towards it as tears began to stream down her face.
Images from that dreadful night when "The Warden's" limp, shot-up, body was rolled in beside her flashed back into her brain. Connie remembered the lost feeling that she had when she squeezed "The Warden's" hand as if to say that they were going to make it through it okay, and he couldn't muster a squeeze back.
Connie had always looked to "The Warden" for hope and assurance that everything was going to be okay in life. "The Warden" personified this attitude through his actions in his 'larger than life' persona. Connie remembered being clueless as to what to do without having him to look to.
The lost feeling and confusion had quickly dissolved into total hopelessness and despair as she watched the once powerful man that she loved, die before her eyes. It was a slow and sad death, as each day he grew weaker until he simply couldn't fight any longer. Connie couldn't picture how she would ever make it without him.
She remembered her rage getting the best of her. She broke things, threw things, cursed, and punched as loudly and powerfully as she could, and yet the sorrow stayed strong. She fell to the ground and sobbed uncontrollably but the pain didn't ease up at all.
Connie remembered very clearly what gave her the courage to fight the pain, and pull herself back up. She asked herself, what would "The Warden" do?
"The Warden" wasn't a violent man at all. He sought peace and love for everyone. He had given his life for a cause that he truly felt would bring joy and hope to a group of people who desperately needed it.
Connie knew that "The Warden" would wrap his arms around her, hold her close, and tell her that things would be okay. He had a way about him that always comforted Connie. He'd also tell her that it was her turn now to carry the torch and ensure that this great dream of his was turned into a reality.
She knew that he would have said that nothing about that was going to be easy, but he would've ensured her that the reward of seeing his dream playing out before her eyes, would be worth the tribulations.
Connie had made her way to the bathroom door as the tears became sobs. She snatched the handle of the door only to find out that it was locked.
She couldn't hold her tears any longer. She crumpled to the ground and broke down sobbing. She felt defeated, and humiliated as she knew people had peeped out of their rooms to see what was going on. She couldn't get up or stop crying. She could only sit there are cry.
Through her pain, Connie knew that "The Warden's" advice was sound, and that she'd utilize it to pull herself together again, but that time wasn't now. She wept alone in the hallway as people stared in confusion.
Upon entering the room, Connie knew that something was off. Multiple doctors and nurses stood around Devon, who remained unconscious. Multiple machines beeped loudly with every heartbeat that Devon took. Connie felt her spirit sinking, as she made her way towards the bed.
Connie knew that the situation looked bad, but what scared her more was the look of total concern that was evident on all of the medical staff. She knew that something was up, and it was severe.
Doctors explained that Devon had yet to wake up from his unconscious state, since yesterday's game. Tests had been performed, and there was evidence of potential brain injury from the vicious blow that he took during an attack on the sideline from teammate Steve Wilson.
Doctors cautioned Connie that anything was possible at this point. They suggested that Devon could wake up and be back to normal after a brief recovery period, or he could potentially never wake up and eventually pass away. Additional possibilities included paralysis or loss of memory, or speaking ability. While the tests showed that an injury to the brain was apparent, the doctors wouldn't know the extent of the injury until he woke up.
Connie felt her heart break all over again. She looked over the limp body of Devon, and flashbacks of being bedside with "The Warden" as he attempted to survive the gunshot wounds came flying back to her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt her knees begin to buckle.
Connie dropped a little, almost allowing herself to fall to the floor and sob uncontrollably like she wanted to, but she decided that she needed to appear strong. She wobbled back up, sniffled, and cleared her throat. After a brief pause, she finally felt comfortable enough to speak without concern that her voice would break up too much.
Connie ensured the doctors that she fully trusted them to help Devon to the best of their ability. She accepted the fact that there wasn't much that could be done except waiting, and she swore that she would be back constantly to monitor how Devon was doing.
The doctors appreciated her concern, and began highlighting typical response times of similar situations, but Connie didn't really care. She didn't care about those situations, she cared about Devon's.
Connie also cared a whole lot about her pride, so she was hoping to leave the room quickly and make a break for the bathroom to sob uncontrollably as she feared the worst for Devon. Connie really didn't want the doctors to see her break down and fall to the floor, weeping for an inmate who she hadn't spoken to but maybe 5 or 6 times all season.
The doctors finally finished up the conversation, and Connie politely excused herself. She eased out of the room, and into the hallway. She located the bathroom on the hall and began to rush towards it as tears began to stream down her face.
Images from that dreadful night when "The Warden's" limp, shot-up, body was rolled in beside her flashed back into her brain. Connie remembered the lost feeling that she had when she squeezed "The Warden's" hand as if to say that they were going to make it through it okay, and he couldn't muster a squeeze back.
Connie had always looked to "The Warden" for hope and assurance that everything was going to be okay in life. "The Warden" personified this attitude through his actions in his 'larger than life' persona. Connie remembered being clueless as to what to do without having him to look to.
The lost feeling and confusion had quickly dissolved into total hopelessness and despair as she watched the once powerful man that she loved, die before her eyes. It was a slow and sad death, as each day he grew weaker until he simply couldn't fight any longer. Connie couldn't picture how she would ever make it without him.
She remembered her rage getting the best of her. She broke things, threw things, cursed, and punched as loudly and powerfully as she could, and yet the sorrow stayed strong. She fell to the ground and sobbed uncontrollably but the pain didn't ease up at all.
Connie remembered very clearly what gave her the courage to fight the pain, and pull herself back up. She asked herself, what would "The Warden" do?
"The Warden" wasn't a violent man at all. He sought peace and love for everyone. He had given his life for a cause that he truly felt would bring joy and hope to a group of people who desperately needed it.
Connie knew that "The Warden" would wrap his arms around her, hold her close, and tell her that things would be okay. He had a way about him that always comforted Connie. He'd also tell her that it was her turn now to carry the torch and ensure that this great dream of his was turned into a reality.
She knew that he would have said that nothing about that was going to be easy, but he would've ensured her that the reward of seeing his dream playing out before her eyes, would be worth the tribulations.
Connie had made her way to the bathroom door as the tears became sobs. She snatched the handle of the door only to find out that it was locked.
She couldn't hold her tears any longer. She crumpled to the ground and broke down sobbing. She felt defeated, and humiliated as she knew people had peeped out of their rooms to see what was going on. She couldn't get up or stop crying. She could only sit there are cry.
Through her pain, Connie knew that "The Warden's" advice was sound, and that she'd utilize it to pull herself together again, but that time wasn't now. She wept alone in the hallway as people stared in confusion.