24
A week later, I was surprised I didn’t get pulled over as I raced to the hospital; I was honestly driving that fast. And I suppose I should also be thankful that I didn’t cause an accident, either, as I was surely the absolute epitome of a dangerous driver—texting and speeding, all while feeling a mixture of optimism and panic. And my car wasn’t the only thing going Mach 10; my mind was racing, too.
The hospital had phoned first thing; Rosie had shown some signs of waking up.
Rushing out of the house, I’d sent a harried text to Declan, telling him that I wouldn’t be able to make this morning’s planned meeting at his office as I’d been called to the hospital.
He sent an immediate reply, wishing Rosie well and asking if there was anything he could do, and I felt grateful that he hadn’t pressed by looking for more details.
Because I couldn’t give him any. I had no idea what this meant. It was surely good news that she’d awakened of her own accord, but here was the important question: Would the coma spell have done the trick in letting her brain heal and stopping the seizures?
After screeching into the hospital parking lot, I found the first available spot. I sprang from the driver’s seat and broke into a run, heading straight for the entrance.
The hospital doors opened automatically for me and, within seconds, I was punching the button in the elevator, willing it to open, a myriad of thoughts rushing through my brain—most of them incomplete and abbreviated.
Would my little girl be OK? Could this nightmare be close to being over? My heart hammered in my chest and I realized the only thing I wanted was to see Rosie open her eyes and say my name. It felt like so long since that had happened. Something so simple would make me the happiest woman on earth.
Finally, the elevator doors opened in front of me and I punched in the floor I needed. Waiting for them to close, I looked up as if I could see through the floors and into Rosie’s room. When the elevator finally arrived at the relevant floor, I burst out and tried to tell myself not to run. The nurse in me said it wasn’t safe.
But no matter, my feet wouldn’t listen to my admonishing and off I went like a Derby champion straight out of the gates.
And, finally, I was at Rosie’s room.
Dr. Ryan was in there with some of the medical team. They all stood over Rosie’s bed, closely monitoring the machines and her charts. I could feel the sweat trickle down my back. I had to see my little girl. Was she awake? Was she fully conscious?
Sensing my presence, Dr. Ryan turned around and met my gaze. I widened my eyes expectantly, hoping she would nod, smile or give me some indication that everything was OK. However, stoic as always, she retained her maddening sense of mystique and motioned for me to approach the bed.
I felt like I was walking underwater, everything was moving in such slow motion. As I neared the bed, I heard the sounds from the machines, the same sounds that I had been hearing for weeks.
As Rosie’s small little body came into view, my heart soared when I realized her little eyelids were twitching and fluttering, as if she was struggling to rouse herself from a deep sleep and wanted nothing more than to return to the dreamland in which she’d been residing.
Suddenly, I broke from my fog and rushed to her side, practically pushing one of the nurses out of the way. Dropping to my knees, I hovered over her small body, breathing in her scent. “Rosie? Sweetheart? It’s Mum. Wake up, honey, I miss you,” I cooed. “Please wake up, it’s OK.”
“Kate,” Dr. Ryan said gently. “Just give her time. It’s happening.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I felt the promise of her words lie heavy on my being.
“How much longer?” I pleaded, not looking up from my daughter’s face. “When will she...”
But I didn’t finish my sentence, because at that moment Rosie’s eyes stopped fluttering and opened completely. Her beautiful green eyes stared ahead, blank. I saw her pupils dilate and she blinked four times in rapid succession, as if trying to focus on something, anything, after spending time in black nothingness.
I let out a small cry of delight and my own eyes filled with tears. “Honey? It’s me, Mum. Rosie?” I urged, and I could hear the begging in my voice. I was dying for her to respond but the nurse in me once again warned me to settle down, give her time. The poor little thing had been through hell and back these last few weeks, and of course she needed time to orient herself, figure out what was going on around her. She was trying to make sense of where she was and what had happened since she had last been awake.
Stroking her hair and taking a deep breath, I wiped away a tear that had made its way down my cheek. Dr. Ryan was already springing into action and, in my peripheral vision, I saw her checking my daughter’s vitals, looking at readings from the various monitors, doing all the things she was supposed to be doing.
But I couldn’t focus on anything except Rosie. At that moment—like always—she was the center of my world.
Her eyes fluttered once again and momentarily closed and, in that moment, my heart sprang fully into my throat and I had to resist the urge to cry out, No, come back! Don’t leave again! But my panic subsided when her eyes opened again and she turned her head toward me ever so slightly.
At this, Dr. Ryan leaned in closer to the bed and turned Rosie’s head to face her own. She took out a penlight and shone it into her eyes.
“Good girl, Rosie, good girl.” The doctor then pulled back the sheet and lifted one of Rosie’s feet into her hands, quickly dragging her fingernail against the sole, causing her to flinch in response. “That’s good.” Next, the pediatrician quickly snapped her fingers close to Rosie’s left ear, and I was ecstatic to see her turn away ever so slightly from the sound.
Then it was as if a light dawned behind Rosie’s eyes for the first time since she opened them; she drew in a sharp breath and whispered hoarsely, “Mama?”
I felt a burst of emotion rush through my chest at those words. “Yes,” I laughed tearfully, relief flooding through me at hearing the words I’d been waiting so long for. “Yes, sweetheart, Mummy’s here.” My voice was thick with tears as I gently cradled her head, turning it slowly to face me. “I’m here and I’ve missed you so much.”
I began covering her face in kisses, all the while crying with relief.
“Kate?” Dr. Ryan said gently then. “I know this is a very emotional and important time for you, but we need to examine her fully now, OK?”
I pulled back a little from Rosie, but my hands protested, continuing to touch my precious little girl’s face, hair, arms, hands. It was as if, if I broke contact, Rosie might fall back into the abyss.
“Of course. Of course, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be in the way, it’s just—”
Dr. Ryan smiled kindly. “Of course and you don’t have to explain. We’re happy she’s awake, too. And you can be close to her again in a little while. We just need to check her out fully, OK?”
I kissed Rosie’s forehead one more time and then one of the nurses helped me to my feet. Dr. Ryan and the team took their positions around the bed, and I moved to the corner of the room so I wouldn’t be in the way, all the while keeping a watchful eye on my daughter.
Just as I did so, a text buzzed from Declan, hoping that everything was OK and, in a burst of joyful enthusiasm, I decided to call and tell him the good news.
Right then, I was so ecstatic I wanted to tell the whole world that my beautiful little girl was awake and had called my name.
After taking a final glance back at the bed, I headed for the hallway for some privacy and stood just outside the open door.
“Ah, this is really fantastic news, Kate,” Declan enthused, sounding equally delighted. “I’m so happy for you, and for Rosie.”
“It probably means that we can drop the case, of course,” I said, a smile creeping to my face as I realized how silly and pointless all of that felt now. “Now that she’s OK, we can forget the whole thing and just move on.”
“Well, yes, of course, whatever you prefer,” he replied quietly. “You could drop the case. But I would encourage you not to do anything rash at the moment, and especially without considering all of the angles first. Rosie might be awake, but we do need to make sure her health prospects are, in fact, OK.”
I scowled, annoyed that he was so quick to rain on my parade. “She’s going to be fine, Declan, OK?” I whispered sharply. “I know it. She’s awake now and she spoke to me. Everything is going to go back to normal.” I felt annoyed, insulted, even, by the suggestion that Rosie being awake didn’t mean that all of my problems were going to go away when right then I felt like I’d just won the lottery.
But the very idea sent me crashing back down to reality. Was he right?
“Kate, I understand, honestly. All I’m saying is that it’s probably wise that you don’t make any rash decisions at the moment or do anything about dropping the suit until we know more, OK?”
I paused, trying to assess his intentions. But then remembering that he had been my and Rosie’s advocate throughout all of this so far, and that perhaps I was being a bit unfair, phoning him while my emotions were running high, I sighed. “I’m sorry, Declan. I didn’t mean to snap like that. I’m just... This is all so overwhelming. It’s what I have been waiting for ever since the night I almost lost her, and well, I was just thinking that finally this nightmare might be on the way to being over. If Rosie is OK, then I’ll be able to go back to work. She can go back to school and we can...well, we can get our lives back and move on. And you know that I’m already in two minds about this thing.”
Declan murmured softly that, yes, he understood. “But you should also consider that your troubles might not magically go away with Rosie regaining consciousness. We have our date for the counterclaim hearing now, so we still need to deal with that much at least.”
“I know.” Now I felt like an idiot for assuming that I could just make everything go away. Things—legal things—were already in place, stuff that I’d instigated by taking this stupid action in the first place. I stole a glance back into Rosie’s room, wondering what was taking so long. The team were still moving around her bed, taking notes and consulting.
“In any case, Kate,” Declan said encouragingly, “whatever you want to do, I’m with you all the way. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Thank you. I suppose like I told you that first day, it feels like my life has been off-kilter for a very long time.” Of course Declan didn’t need to know any of this, but I felt the need to explain my thinking. “Since Greg died, obviously. But before this happened, at least I’d been coping. I had a routine; Rosie and I had a routine. I dropped her off at school in the mornings, worked around her school hours, helped her with her homework, took her swimming and to ballet lessons. We watched TV together in the evenings and read books at night, and at weekends we went to the playground and chatted with neighbors...” I swallowed hard. “I miss that. I want...I need things to go back to normal.” A tear escaped from my right eye and I brushed it quickly away. “But, most of all, I didn’t have all this anger...” By then I was no longer sure if I was talking to Declan or myself.
But before he could reply, Dr. Ryan’s voice rang out from behind me.
“Kate? I don’t want to alarm you, but we need to take Rosie down for an MRI.”
I almost dropped the phone. “Why? What’s going on? What’s happened?”
“Kate,” said Dr. Ryan evenly, “we just need to take an MRI. She’s not responding to certain stimuli, and I think it’s best we do this straightaway.”
I was already nodding in agreement and moving toward my daughter. “Of course, of course, whatever you need to do. Please,” I responded, anguish palpable in my voice as again I felt myself sweating through my shirt.
But yet I didn’t understand my anxiety. An MRI was surely routine? Normal procedure for someone who’d been through what Rosie had.
For all of the medical knowledge I happened to possess in my brain, for the life of me I didn’t know. I didn’t know much about neurology, and I wished desperately that I could simply absorb Dr. Ryan’s experience through osmosis.
I would give anything to know in that moment if everything was going to be OK or if, God forbid, this was the start of yet another nightmare.