Chapter: 34
Why Josh? What happened? Maybe the accident wasn’t that serious, but Mom and Dad knew I’d want to be there. Coach Kat encouraged me to sleep, but sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. The questions kept coming as I stared out the car window at black nothingness. What was the surgery for? Was anyone else hurt? How long will I be home? When we came to an open area, the stars shone down, and I made a silent wish for my brother’s recovery.
After the longest drive of my life, the city lights glowed ahead. When Coach Kat asked her phone to provide directions to Harborview Hospital, I shuddered. As a child of two physicians, I knew it was the place for the critically injured.
We arrived in the Emergency Room a little before midnight. I was vaguely aware of my coach asking for directions and guiding me through a maze of corridors smelling of disinfectant. Soon we came to a waiting room with a bench and few dozen chairs, most of them empty. A TV hanging from the ceiling in one corner provided background noise, but no one was watching. My parents huddled side by side. Mom fiddled with a wad of tissues in her hands, and Dad stared blankly at a nature print on the wall. When they spotted me, they hurried over. Dad’s puffy eyes met mine. He pulled me into a tight embrace.
I’d never seen him cry.
When he pulled back, he wiped his eyes and quickly recovered. “He’s going to be in surgery a couple more hours.”
After brief introductions and a couple thank yous, Dad took off with Coach Kat to retrieve my bags.
I turned to Mom. “What happened?”
“Let’s sit, honey.” Once we settled on the bench, Mom closed her eyes and began to speak. “Josh was driving with three of his friends. They’d gone to dinner to celebrate their college acceptances and were on their way to a movie.”
“Which friends?”
“Luke and—”
I gasped. Luke was like a brother to me.
Mom nodded. “And Kellan and Jeff. The police officer said Josh ran a red light and an oversize SUV slammed into his driver’s side.” Mom spoke with little emotion, like she was recounting a news story about something occurring far away. “The other driver was unharmed, and her SUV had only minor front-end damage. But Josh’s little car was totaled.” She took a deep breath. “Luckily, Luke and Jeff were only bruised and shaken.”
Thank God.
“Kellan, who sat behind Josh, was admitted with a shoulder injury and a concussion. He’s expected to be released soon.” Mom closed her eyes again and a lone tear leaked out. She grabbed my wrist. “Josh was seated in the worst position. Right where the other vehicle struck.”
Mom stopped talking and broke down. I wrapped my arms around her. After a moment she took a deep breath and continued. “He suffered a brain injury.”
I clamped my palm over my mouth.
“He also fractured his left arm in a couple of places, dislocated his shoulder, and broke a few ribs.”
My throat went dry. I hadn’t thought the news could get any worse.
“He was knocked unconscious.” Mom cleared her throat and offered a thin smile. “The doctors hope he’ll wake after surgery.”
I hugged Mom and let my tears fall until we were both reaching for tissues.
When Dad returned, he looked wiped. He turned to Mom. “Any news?”
“No, David. Nothing.”
****
I was jarred awake when Mom moved my head from her soft lap to the hard, vinyl bench.
“Dr. Mattison and Dr. Clarke?”
I pulled myself up to my elbows. My parents stood five feet away, holding hands, talking to a man in light blue scrubs.
“…let you know he’s out of surgery. He’s stable, and you’ll be able to see him soon.”
“Thank goodness.” Mom’s knees buckled and Dad steadied her.
“How did it go?” Dad asked.
“The surgery went as planned. During the craniotomy, I removed the hematoma and drained the excess cerebrospinal fluid to reduce his intracranial pressure…” The doctor threw around so many medical terms, I was completely lost. At least my parents were both doctors. They’d understand without needing to ask a million questions. “…I was able to replace the bone flap, and then…”
I moaned unintentionally.
Mom glanced back at me and her eyes went wide. Her lips were pursed so tight together, the red had disappeared. She whispered to Dad, and they moved farther into the lobby, out of earshot.
Dad eased down next to me when they returned. “That was Dr. Johnston, the neurosurgeon who operated on Josh. He’s out of surgery. We’ll be able to see him soon.”
I scrambled to a sitting position. “Is he awake?”
“Not yet. They’ve given him some medication to keep him asleep so his body can rest. The surgery went well. The orthopedist positioned his shoulder back into the socket, and she repaired his arm with a few screws.”
Hesitantly, I asked, “And his brain?”
He gave me a weak smile, and the lines on his forehead creased deeper. He reached out and held both my hands. “His head injury is pretty severe. They removed a blood clot and put in a drain to remove some fluid. Josh’s brain is swelling, and their number one priority is to keep the pressure low. He’s being moved to the Neuro-Intensive Care Unit, where they’ll monitor him around the clock.”
Dad took a deep breath. “There’s a chance he might need a second surgery if the drain and the medication don’t do the trick. But they’re trying to avoid another one.” He squeezed my hands. “So let’s not worry about that yet.”
My head spun and I had to lie back down. But I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I couldn’t get the image of Josh with a gaping hole in his skull out of my head. More questions floated through my mind, but I kept coming back to: Was he going to be okay? What would I do without my brother?
****
Over an hour later, a young nurse escorted us to the Neuro-ICU. She kept her face blank and stood stiffly. Looking at me, she said, “Normally this late at night only parents are permitted in the Neuro-ICU.” She smiled thinly. “But I know you’ve waited a long time, so we’ll make an exception tonight.”
As we followed her, our shoes squeaking on the polished tile floor echoed down the empty hallway. I glanced left when we passed an open door. A woman was weeping near a patient’s bedside. I whipped my face back forward and swallowed hard.
The nurse stopped before we entered Josh’s room and addressed me. “I want you to be prepared. Your brother will look different from what you’re used to.” Then she gave a tight nod.
The room was so full of equipment that it took some finagling to surround his bed. The nurse’s words of warning did nothing to prepare me for the scene before my eyes. No words could have. He was my big brother, but in the bed he looked smaller and nowhere near age eighteen. His head was shaved, and he was black and blue, particularly on his left side. A large, white bandage covered more than half his head. His left arm was in a cast lying on top of his sheets. Multiple tubes and wires were attached to his head, arm, and chest, and a machine made robotic breathing sounds while computer screens flashed and beeped.
Tears streamed down my face. This was serious. He could die, and I could only watch, helpless. Dad cried openly too. Mom leaned over the edge of the bed, took Josh’s hand, and whispered something to him.
The nurse broke the moment before long. “It’s best for your son to rest, but if one of you wishes to stay the night, we can arrange it.”
My parents looked at each other in silent communication before Dad said, “Liz, I’ll take Autumn home. Call if anything changes.”
Mom nodded then gave me a tight squeeze. “I love you, honey. Glad you’re here.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Dad kissed Josh on his head, and I attempted to give him a hug. But so many attachments were in the way, it was more of an awkward body touch.
I could barely stay awake. The clock showed it was after three in the morning when we got home. I didn’t eve
n bother to brush my teeth but simply pulled on an old pair of pajamas from my dresser drawer and collapsed on the bed. I closed my eyes, hoping this was all part of some student’s sick and tasteless dream.
Chapter: 35
Half asleep, I fought to open my eyes. Where was I? Was this a dream?
The events of last night slammed into me like a wayward soccer ball to the gut: I was home and Josh was at Harborview. The pain in my heart had me snuggling deeper into my warm bed to avoid starting what might be another terrible day. The rain pelted the roof, and the trees outside my bedroom window bent in the wind. Perfect. I couldn’t bear it if today had been sunny. It would have been cruel with my brother in the hospital fighting for his life.
After several minutes more, I crawled out of bed. Although it was around eleven in the morning, the house was silent and dark as I plodded downstairs. I turned on the kitchen lights and found a note on the counter near the coffeepot.
Autumn,
Returned to the hospital. Your mother or I will be home soon.
Love, Dad
Part of me wished he had brought me along, but I was also grateful he’d let me stay in bed. My stomach rumbled, so I nibbled on cereal while my body revived, feeling guilty I’d slept while my parents sat vigil.
When I returned to my room, my suitcase and bags glared at me from the center of the floor. What should I do with them? I shoved my unopened backpack and messenger bag near my desk. As if I were in any state to worry about something as trivial as homework. Opening my suitcase, I removed my toiletries and some clothes for the day but left it propped open, so I could grab what I needed, as if it were a weekend trip. A wave of optimism washed over me. Josh might wake today. His brain injury might turn out to be minor, and I’d return to school in a few days. But then reality crept back, and the memory of Josh’s bruised and bandaged body in the Neuro-ICU shattered those thoughts. I grew dizzy and eased myself onto my mattress until my lightheadedness passed. He had to get better. I needed my big brother.
Suddenly, paws pattered across the hardwoods and grew louder each second. Moving my bags must’ve woken Zoey from wherever she’d chosen to nap. I peered out my doorway, crouched to the ground, and opened my arms to a joyful ball of fur. I tried to enjoy my dog’s enthusiastic greeting, but all I could think about was when Zoey was a puppy; my seven-year-old self and ten-year-old brother would toss stuffed toys up and down this very hall with our new sister racing between us. What would Zoey think if Josh never came home? He was her brother too.
After a long, hot shower, I found Mom in the kitchen. She sat with a mug of steaming coffee, staring off into the distance. She looked horrible. Her eyes were puffy with hints of purple beneath them, not to mention the raccoon effect from smudged mascara, and wisps of her typically perfect, highlighted hair stuck on end.
“Hi, Mom.” I gave her a hug and pulled up a chair.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“I’m glad someone got some rest. Your father was back at the hospital by seven. He couldn’t sleep.”
“What about you?”
She shrugged. “Not much. The Neuro-ICU isn’t set up for visitors. A nurse insisted I lie down in the waiting room for a couple hours and promised to get me if anything changed.”
“How’s Josh?”
A shadow far gloomier than the weather outside passed over Mom’s features. “About the same. He’s still stable, which is a positive sign. It’s impossible for him to wake up right now because they’ve got him sedated.”
“Did they say if he’s going to wake up?”
“Oh, honey, I don’t know. The doctors warned us he’s in pretty bad shape. But they’re encouraged because he’s young and otherwise healthy. The next few days are critical.”
“So that’s good?”
“I think so.” Mom sipped her coffee. Only the rhythmic, metallic sounds of raindrops hitting the gutters filled the kitchen. Finally she said, “Just yesterday, we were standing right over there”—she nodded toward the counter—“chatting about baseball before he left for dinner with his friends. They finished tryouts last week. And he was so elated about UW.” Mom’s voice faltered. “What was he doing? He’s always been so attentive on the road.”
“Maybe he can tell us when he wakes up.”
****
An hour later, we were back in the waiting room, and Dad came out to meet us. He appeared not only exhausted but defeated in a way I’d never seen before with his posture slumped and his eyes glassed over. Mom was always more expressive, so I was used to her emotions. Dad, on the other hand, was stoic. He could handle anything. But not this. And that scared me more than anything. I almost gave him a hug, but then I thought better of it. If he fell apart then what would I do?
Dad collapsed in a chair. “Why don’t you two go in? There’s really not enough room for three. I’m going to grab a coffee in a sec.”
Mom nodded. “Come on, Autumn.”
She led me back through the Neuro-ICU. More alert and prepared than the night before, I paid closer attention today.
I took a sharp breath when we entered his room. Josh looked even worse. His bruises were darker and his body more swollen. I teared up but kept it together this time.
Mom went into what Josh and I’d always referred to as physician-mode and explained the purpose of all the equipment in a detached manner. She pointed out one machine monitoring his blood pressure as well as heart and oxygen saturation rates. Another device measured his temperature. He also had continuous EEG monitoring to view his cerebral function and another recording its pressure. She explained why he had a breathing tube and how the machine worked. Then she pointed to the IV and described how he received multiple medications to control pain, seizures, and intracranial pressure as well as one to keep him comatose. Of course, he was given fluids to stay hydrated. The nurses at the station outside his room had monitors to alert them of any changes.
“Josh will be kept here for a while.” Mom pulled a chair to the side of his bed, sat down, and picked up his hand. “It could be days or weeks. Eventually, he’ll move to a larger, more comfortable room when his brain pressure stabilizes, and he can breathe for himself.”
“Does he know we’re here?”
“Probably not. But it’s possible. Doctors don’t know everything. But more importantly, I know we’re here. I want to make sure someone is always with him. I couldn’t live with myself if he was left alone for long.” Mom caught my eye. “When you’re a mother, you’ll understand. I’d do anything for you two.”
I wasn’t a mother, but I could understand as a sister. As I sat there, I realized as long as Josh was in the hospital or needed me in any way, I’d remain in Seattle. Nothing was more important to me than my family. My heart told me he’d wake up and be fine, but an idea began to form: maybe I wouldn’t return to Dickensen even once he came home. All I wanted was to be near him and to have the old Josh back.
Mom and I stayed with him for what seemed an eternity. We didn’t speak much, but I could feel the love in his room. I hoped Josh would wake up so he could feel it too.
At last she announced it was time for a late lunch, so we made our way down to the cafeteria after Josh’s nurse assured us she’d call if anything changed.
We didn’t expect a call.
After lunch, we returned to the waiting room, and Dad went in to sit with him. The entire day went like that, alternating turns going into his room. One of my parents always accompanied me.
Time passed sluggishly. I found counting holes on the ceiling tiles to be a highlight of my day. Seriously, it’s quite a challenge. But I felt important in a way I hadn’t been before. I prayed he’d wake up and believed my physical presence might somehow encourage him to heal.
****
Monday was more of the same. Tuesday as well. Each day dragged. My parents suggested I take a break. Perhaps visit Julia or Drew. It’d been months since I’d seen them. But I wasn’t in the
mood. Besides, being at the hospital mattered. Josh never made any outward sign he sensed my presence, but I felt he did, just the same.
On Thursday, Dad planned to drop me off at Harborview on his way to work. He was returning on a limited basis because many of his own patients’ appointments and surgeries couldn’t be postponed. I suspected losing himself in his job was his way of coping with this nightmare. Before we left, he joined me in the kitchen while I was finishing up breakfast. Although his face was freshly shaved and his hair neatly styled, his pale, dull skin betrayed his exhaustion.
“Autumn, we need to talk about school.” His typical assertive tone when discussing anything academic had been replaced with a hesitant one.
“What about it?”
“Your mother and I’ve been talking. She called Dickensen Academy yesterday and told them your return date is unknown since Josh’s condition is touch and go.”
I dropped my spoon, which clattered on the ceramic bowl. “What’d they say?”
“They want to work with us. Your teachers will communicate your assignments by email.”
“I can’t do homework! I can’t think about anything but Josh.”
“I know. It’s just this whole thing with Josh might go on a long time, and we don’t want you to fall behind. Regardless of what happens, you need to finish your freshman year.”
The traces of milk and corn cereal went sour in my mouth. How much hadn’t they told me about his injuries? I took a deep breath. “Is Josh going to die?”
Dad was supposed to immediately say no. Instead he sat there, looking stunned. And speechless—another first.
Finally he spoke. “I know it’s going to be hard, but homework might be a good distraction and will make it easier when you return to school.”
“You mean to Dickensen?”
“Dickensen, Haller Lake…” He put his head in his hands and leaned forward. After a moment, he sat back up and concentrated on a bird outside the window. “We don’t know at this point.”
Dickensen Academy Page 21