Chapter Four
The woman led him through the massive room. Curtains all around the sides of the room sectioned off individual beds…
“He’s still unconscious,” she said quietly as she stopped in front of one curtained-off bed. “The doctor will stop by soon, to explain details.” She pulled the curtain back a few inches and gestured for him to go in.
He didn't know or care that he was shaking as he stepped into the space. He gripped the curtain for support. "Rob-in," he whispered.
The tiny little frog looked even smaller in the huge hospital bed. There was an oxygen mask over his face. There was an IV drip, and a heart monitor, and… And his nephew... looking so small and fragile...
"Oh..." He somehow got to the edge of the bed, where he sat and reached out to fold Robin's small, little hand in both of his own, leaving the ball in his lap.
He sank down and hunched over, putting his head near their hands, his eyes never parting from the young frog's face as he gently set a kiss on those tiny fingertips.
"Robin?" he whispered. "It—it's gonna be okay..." He felt his shoulders shift. "It's gonna be okay, Robin. ...I'm here. Uncle Kermit's here... and…" He held the hand firmly. "It's gonna be okay," he said. "You're gonna wake up. And everything'll be okay..."
He swallowed hard and, keeping his eyes locked on his nephew, carefully lifted the ball from his lap and set it beneath the little frog’s hand.
“There,” he said faintly. “It’ll be okay…”
Robin lay very still in the hospital bed as the monitor counted out his every heartbeat.
The curtain pulled back behind him. “Mr. the Frog?”
Kermit straightened up and glanced over his shoulder at the doctor, his hands still wrapped over Robin’s.
“I’m Dr. Livelong. I understand you’re Robin’s… guardian?”
“Until his parents get here,” Kermit said quietly, his worried eyes straying to his nephew again. “He lives with me…”
Dr. Livelong nodded and sat down at the foot of the bed. “I’m afraid he’s in bad shape,” he said, picking up a chart that had been hanging on the bed. “Fractures all through his right arm… shattered several bones of his right hand. That will take some extensive physical therapy, but he’s young enough that he should be able to regain full motor skills, if…”
“He will,” Kermit whispered, not needing to hear that
if, his eyes remaining locked on his nephew. “He
will wake up.”
“…He’s doing remarkably well, all things considered,” Dr. Livelong said quietly. “His heartbeat, is… is weak, but… steady. He had some—considerable bruising, of course, but… most of his bones are—surprisingly intact.”
“…Bruising, and broken bones…” Kermit mumbled quietly, trying to piece everything together. He slowly turned and looked at the doctor. “…Why isn’t he awake?” he asked.
Dr. Livelong winced. He had been dreading telling this part. “…His head… was knocked around, pretty hard,” he said quietly. “It hit the car, and the pavement… We’re not sure yet, what the full extent of the brain damage is. His skull is fractured… which—may have saved his life, really. It released the pressure…”
Kermit gulped and turned to look at his nephew and the ball that was resting beneath that tiny green hand.
“Have you contacted his parents yet?” Dr. Livelong asked.
Kermit shook his head.
“You may want to do that while we transfer him to the pediatric wing,” the doctor said quietly. “We’ll be doing that any minute now.”
Kermit slowly nodded. “…Can—can he keep the ball with him, while you move him?” he whispered.
Dr. Livelong looked at the ball under the tiny frog’s hand. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’ll make sure that he does.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Someone put a lot of effort into decorating the pediatric wing of the hospital.
Someone spent a lot of time choosing just the right shades of red and yellow and green and purple and orange and blue. Someone very carefully selected the carpet covered with bright circles and squares and triangles and trapezoids and diamonds for the waiting room. Someone painstakingly planned and drew and painted the mural of a castle around the entire nurse’s station, complete with knights and princesses and fairies and wizards. Someone picked out exactly which pictures of which fairy tales to hang on which walls. Someone deliberated long and hard over the animals and the sports and the stars and the planets and the super heroes and the smiling faces on the wallpaper in each of the rooms. Someone lost sleep debating whether to make rooms gender-specific or to be politically correct.
Someone put a lot of hard work into making this wing of the hospital a little less grim.
Kermit barely noticed all of that hard work as he plunked coins into the payphone. The other Muppets stood close to him, waiting for the nurses or the doctor to tell them that Robin was settled in his new room.
“Mom won’t be in her office,” Kermit mumbled to his friends as he listened to the rings. “But I can leave a message, and she’ll get it tomorrow…”
“Isn’t there a faster way?” Rizzo asked. “A whole DAY—“
“The swamp doesn’t have electricity,” Scooter reminded the rat. “Or phone lines.”
“So get cell phones,” Rizzo said.
“Si, but den how do jou charge dem, hokay?” Pepe pointed out.
“Hi-ho, Mom,” Kermit said quietly into the phone, and Miss Piggy hastily hushed the other Muppets. “It’s Kermit. I—I’m calling…” He gulped. “…I—I have—bad news… I… I need to talk to… to Jimmy and Leaper… Robin, is—is hurt—“ He gulped and took a shaky breath. “He—He was—hit by a car, and… he has—has—“
“Here.” Rowlf scooped a tight arm around the frog and took the phone. “Robin fractured his arm and shattered some of his hand bones. He has a fracture in his skull, and—we don’t know about the brain damage yet. We’ll keep in touch as best we can, of course. Give Kermit’s cell phone a call when you get this. One of us will answer.” The dog hesitated, gripping the phone in his paw. “…Don’t worry about Kermit, Mrs. the Frog,” he said quietly. “We’re all here. …Talk to you soon.” He carefully hung up the phone and put his paw on the wall for support.
Kermit was half-buried in his friend’s dark fur. “…Thanks, Rowlf,” he said quietly. “…I—I couldn’t—“
“I know,” Rowlf whispered.
The Muppets huddled together as the frog and the dog leaned on each other and the other Muppets nearby. This had not been easy news to bear.
Fozzie hugged himself tight as he backed away from the group and plopped down in front of a chair. He dumped his head into his hands, burying his face as his limp, shapeless hat fell off of his head and landed on the carpet, in the middle of a bright red triangle.
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