A Love Story with a Little Heartbreak
Page 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
While Ruby and Henry and Father Oliver were driving back to Chilton late that afternoon, Dr. von Hoerner stood at Connie’s bedside and talked to her. He knew she was conscious, even though she hadn’t opened her good eye. He was faced with a dilemma. Exactly how conscious she was, was difficult to assess, but he couldn’t take the chance that she would be suffering over not knowing or understanding her situation, specifically, why she was in the hospital, how long she had been there, and what it all meant. He had to tell her some things, even if they would hurt her to hear them. He made the decision that it would be worse, and possibly terrifying, for her to be alone without any understanding of her circumstances. But when was the right time to have that discussion, he wondered? He looked at her heart rate on the monitor and could see that it had risen a bit. This was actually a good sign, as it indicated some responsiveness to her environment. He would watch it closely.
Dr. von Hoerner leaned over her face again and lifted her eyelid. Her pupil quickly contracted, adjusting to the light once again. She was looking at him. She hadn’t lifted her lid on her own—maybe that would take some time, he thought to himself. He pulled back his thumb and let her lid naturally fall into place; her eye was closed once again.
“Connie,” he said upon embracing her exposed hand on his side of the bed, “give my hand one quick squeeze if you can hear me.”
He waited.
Connie wanted to respond.
Twenty seconds later, Connie gave Dr. von Hoerner what he wanted: a quick squeeze, although its weakness registered with the doctor.
“That’s good, Connie—real good.” He paused with indecision. He wondered if he should take it further or let her rest until tomorrow, which would give her a little more time. He wanted her to open her own eyelid. Maybe another day is what she needed. He decided to let her rest. “Connie, you get some more rest. Tomorrow will come soon enough,” he spoke in a soothing voice. “We’ll know more tomorrow.” He squeezed her hand and reached for her chart to note the experience with a gladdened heart. She didn’t respond. Maybe she had fallen asleep.
Dr. von Hoerner made a short entry on her chart: “First day patient is responsive. No change in protocol yet,” he scribbled. He returned the chart to the basket at the foot of the bed and walked out of the room with a lighter step in his stride than he had felt in six months.
He believed that Connie could hear him, but he would be very careful in his choice of words when he spoke to her. He hoped fervently that she would understand his words.
There was no known explanation for Connie’s return. Apparently she had recovered, at least to a basic degree, from her traumatic head injuries, although whether or not there was any permanent brain injury had not yet been determined. Clearly, Dr. von Hoerner was encouraged by what he saw. We will never know where she had gone in the six months she had been comatose and how or why she had regained consciousness. There are places in the mind we simply don’t know about.
∞
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN