"I have a specialist in there examining him, Monsieur Andreas. He's suffering renal failure."
"What does that mean?" Daddy asked, gazing at me first. I knew he understood, but for the moment he was so nervous and excited he couldn't think.
"It's his kidneys, Daddy," I said.
"His kidneys aren't filtering out the waste, monsieur. They have shut down."
"Why? How can this happen?"
"I have seen this happen to patients who suffer prolonged coma, much more severe than what Pierre suffered, but his situation, which we thought was improving, suddenly took a turn for the worse and he went deeper into himself. Psychologically, monsieur," she said after a long pause, "your son is trying to get back with his twin brother."
"Get back. But . . . Jean is dead," Daddy said in a low voice.
"I know, monsieur. And so does Pierre." "But then he's . ."
"Willing himself to die," she said. ,
Her words fell like thunder over us. Daddy stared in disbelief.
"But how can someone . . . Surely that's not possible, Doctor," Daddy said.
"The mind is far more powerful than one might imagine, monsieur. People develop psychosomatic illnesses. Some people are unable to see even though there is nothing physiologically wrong with their eyes; others are unable to walk, even though there is nothing wrong with their legs." She paused and looked behind us. "Excuse me, Monsieur Andreas, but where is your wife? Where is the boy's mother?"
Daddy shook his head, the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"My mother has run away, Doctor," I said. "She left the house and sent us a letter. She blames herself for what's happened. We thought she had returned to her bayou home and went looking for her. We found evidence that she had gone there, but we couldn't find her, and when we learned about Pierre, we hurried back."
"I see. Well, I can't be sure, of course, but the boy might be thinking his mother blames him for his brother's death. I know he blames himself, and now that his mother is gone when he needs her . . well, you see how this complicates matters, monsieur."
"Yes, yes, I see. What can we do?"
"Let's see what sort of treatment Dr. Lasky is recommending first," she said as a short bald man emerged from the ICU. He was dressed in a suit and tie and looked more like a banker than a doctor. He had small features with dark brown beady eyes.
"This is the boy's father and sister," Dr. LeFevre said. "Dr. Lasky."
"How do you do, monsieur. I'm afraid your son is quite ill," he said getting right to the point. "He has produced less than fifty milliliters of urine during the last twenty-four hours, according to your nurse. This is anuria, which causes a serious buildup of waste. As I explained to Dr. LeFevre, he has acute renal failure, usually the result of a serious injury or some other underlying illness. She has explained the psychological problems to me, and I am in complete agreement with her diagnosis of the problem."
"What can we do?" Daddy asked quickly.
"Well, until the underlying cause is treated, we must direct ourselves to the physical threat. I have prescribed a diuretic, but if there is no change soon, I think dialysis will be necessary. Let's wait and see. This might pass."
"Can we see him?" I asked.
"Yes, of course," he said.
"Will he be all right?" Daddy demanded.
"Most people with acute renal failure eventually make a full recovery, but this case is unusual because of the psychological implications, monsieur. I'm afraid I cannot make precise predictions."
"Meaning what?" Daddy asked.
"If he remains unresponsive and doesn't produce and dispose of urine, we will put him on dialysis. But if his mind can shut down one organ. . ."
"Surely he will come out of this coma," Daddy said to Dr. LeFevre. She didn't reply. "He'll snap out of it. Won't he, Pearl?"
"Yes, Daddy," I said, so choked up, I could barely get enough breath to pronounce the words. "Let's go see him."
"Right," he said and started toward the ICU with me, refusing to face the dire possibilities that both doctors were presenting, but Dr. LeFevre seized his wrist and stopped him.