THIRTY-ONE
Dalt
I pace the floor of the lounge area outside the intensive care unit for traumatic injury. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I note the seconds ticking by in slow, methodical clicks. It’s only six a.m. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since I heard the news about Nikki’s accident.
I wonder what it feels like to Nik, cocooned all alone inside her own head. Does she remember what happened, where she is? Is she scared? I want to be in the room with her, holding her, telling her everything will be okay. Will she even know I’m here and how much I love her? Does she hear me when I tell her I’ll never leave her? Ha. Yeah right. Will she ever believe me again when I make the bullshit promise I reneged on after one day?
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Rose’s voice pulls me out of my restless thoughts.
“Uh…thanks, no. Can I get you something?” I should be the one trying to comfort her. She looks like she’s on the verge of needing to climb into a hospital bed herself.
“No. Thank you. Matt will be here soon. He said he packed some food. Even though I told him I wasn’t hungry, he insisted.” A slight smile tips the corner of her lips but disappears almost as fast.
“Is he bringing Chloe with him?”
I can’t wait to hold my baby girl. But I’m not sure she should see Nikki like this. All the tubes, lines, and machines hooked to her mama might frighten her too much.
“No. I want to wait until Nikki wakes up in the next day or two for Chloe to see her.” She says it with such conviction, like there’s no doubt in her mind Nikki will be awake by tomorrow or the next day. “My friend Ellen is coming to stay with her. Chloe knows her. We’ve been friends since we were girls and Chloe thinks of her as another grandma.” She stares at the wall in front of her as she speaks. Her voice sounds hollow as she distractedly answers my question. “Do you need Matt to pick anything up for you?” She glances at me for the first time.
“Well…yes, actually.” The thought occurs to me it may be the only way I have to get these items without having to leave the hospital. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to get these.” I pull a pen from my pocket and click it open. Looking around the room for something to write on, I spot a roll of paper towels hanging on the wall. I tear one off to use as makeshift notepaper. After scribbling my list, I hand it to Rose.
“Can you ask him to find somewhere to pick these up?”
Rose reads over the list, giving me a puzzled look. “Nikki has most of these at home in her room.”
“Perfect. Can you ask him to bring them, please?”
“Yes. I…I’ll give him a call right now before he leaves.”
***
While waiting for an excruciating hour and a half for Dr. Hensley to finish his evaluation, I use my phone to do a search for his credentials. The guy may appear eccentric but he’s a rock star when it comes to brain injury, neurosurgery research, and acute care. The list of studies he’s participated in is as long as my arm. Which is the reason why when Nurse Blanchard comes into the lounge to tell us Dr. Hensley is ready for us, I stop breathing for a moment. I know whatever he tells us about Nik’s condition and prognosis, good or bad, is the most accurate information we’re going to get.
Rose’s apprehensive expression is mirroring my own. Matt, who arrived about an hour ago, has his arm around Rose’s shoulder and has somewhat pulled himself together since I saw him at the farm. It’s obvious he’s trying his best to remain stoic for Rose’s sake. But when he glowers back at me, the stoicism is replaced by pure hatred. He can’t be thinking anything worse about me I haven’t already thought myself.
As we follow Ms. Blanchard down the corridor to Nikki’s room, Rose reaches out and takes my hand, interlacing her fingers in mine. Matt grunts behind us but I’m grateful for Rose’s support, even though I don’t deserve it.
Dr. Hensley wastes no time taking us aside, away from Nikki’s bed, and firing off his findings. He tells us after consulting with Nik’s physician they agreed the tracheal tube could be removed since it had been long enough for the surgical sedative to wear off and Nikki was breathing on her own. Without the hindrance of the tube and effects of the sedative, he was able to get a more accurate assessment of Nikki’s condition.
“Her Glasgow score is borderline. She’s ranging somewhere around a ten, which means there is some motor withdrawal response to pain stimulation and some incoherent verbal response. However, she hasn’t opened her eyes. I reviewed her CT scan and MRI. There doesn’t appear to be any intracranial pressure or severe injury, although there is some slight bruising on the cerebellum. It appears to be minimal, which is good. But it may cause some problems with balance and coordination in the future. It’s hard to say at this time.”
“But she’s a soccer player,” I blurt out like a mindless ass. The man is telling us whether or not Nikki will live or die or have permanent disabilities and I’m worried about soccer.
“Soccer is very important to Nikki. Her father taught her to play when she was only three and she’s been playing ever since,” Rose interjects and squeezes my hand to assure me my concern for soccer would be a priority to Nikki as well.
“It’s too soon to know anything regarding coordination issues, but with the severity of the leg injury, soccer may not be in her future, regardless of the cerebellar issue,” he whispers.
“Can she hear us?” I glance over at Nik. How would I feel if I opened my eyes one morning and someone told me I’d never be able to play hockey again?
“Yes. In all likelihood she can. Most moderately comatose patients I’ve treated in the past have said they could hear voices in the room though they couldn’t always discern what was being said.”
“But you’re saying she will wake up?” Matt asks, the most important question of all. “Matt Grisham. Nikki’s stepfather,” Matt declares his recent promotion to fatherly status and extends his hand to Dr. Hensley. Rose looks up at him in wide-eyed astonishment then smiles when Matt gives her a return once-over which seems to say ‘that’s right, you heard me.’
“When it comes to brain injury and healing, it is as diversified as there are people with brains. We can never be one hundred percent certain of anything. Since Nikki is still unconscious and not completely responsive, a prognosis at this time can be difficult.” Dr. Hensley takes a deep breath. “At this point I’m cautiously optimistic about Nikki’s prognosis. I will report it as fair to her physician.”
“How long before she wakes up?” I ask.
“I understand you want a definitive timeline. But with head trauma and coma patients, it’s impossible to give a decisive answer. As I said, Ms. Dixon’s score is borderline. It’s not low enough to be considered severe but it’s not high enough to be considered mild. Perhaps in a few days she can be reevaluated to get a more positive answer, but for right now I’ve given you the best information I can.”
That’s it? She’s not too bad but she’s not too good either? What does that even mean? There must be something more we can do.
“What should we do for her in the meantime? To help her, I mean.”
“The doctors and nurses here are giving Nikki the best care possible. Ms. Blanchard will keep a watchful eye on her to assess any changes. The best all of you can do is take turns staying with her. Talk to her. Touch her. Reassure her. Provide stimulus. She’ll know you’re here. It can help to pull her out of the darkness.”
Darkness.
I hate this. It’s like we’re trapped in a bad episode of Stranger Things and Nikki has been sucked into the other world.
Then I remember the bag Matt brought in with him. I run back to the lounge to get it.
When I get back to Nikki’s room, Dr. Hensley is in front of the nurses’ station with Rose and Matt. They’re shaking hands and thanking him for coming.
“Yes. Thank you again for coming all this way on such short notice.” I offer my hand. This time he accepts it.
“Well, I’m not sure I told you anything more than her doctors here could have told you, but I’m very grateful for the generous donation. I assure you we’ll put it to good use. There’s so much more we need to learn about brain injury and treatment.” His voice takes on a note of sadness.
I’d fund his research for the next twenty years if he would stay here and take care of Nikki until she opens her eyes, but he already explained he has critical patients he has to get back to. As I make arrangements for his return flight back to the airport and then to Maryland, he asks me to keep him informed of any changes and says if we need him to come back he will.
Meanwhile, as I take the seat next to Nikki’s bed and pull one of her books from the bag Matt brought, I pray she’ll wake up before Dr. Hensley has a chance to even board his return flight.