CHAPTER TEN
Scott
Now
“She’s in a medically induced coma.” Dr. Gold said.
He looked at me, his dark eyes bright with intelligence.
“The acute subdural hematoma she suffered was extensive. Surgery did enough to save her life, but she’s still in critical condition.
” He swallowed hard. “I’ll be honest with you; we almost lost her there for a moment.
She, um, actually flatlined. But we were able to resuscitate her. ”
I stared at him. Was he saying Blair had died for a moment? I was leaning against the wall. I needed it to hold me up. “But now… she’s… going to make it?”
He got a notch between his eyebrows. “That’s not what I said. Her condition is still very much critical. I expect the next forty-eight hours to be touch and go. If she survives that stretch of time, her prognosis improves.”
He saw the look of hope on my face.
“But she still won’t be out of the woods.
She has a long recovery ahead of her, Mr. Hastings.
” I automatically started to correct him and tell him I was actually Dr. Hastings—but I could hear Blair’s voice in the background of my mind saying, “It doesn’t matter if he knows you’re a doctor or not, Scott. Pay attention to what he’s saying.”
It was plain as day, almost as if she was standing beside me. I swallowed hard and looked up at him. “I understand.”
“Do you have any questions for me?”
I nodded slowly. “What kind of recovery is she going to have?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s impossible to know at this point. Typically, a subdural hematoma takes anywhere from six to eighteen months to achieve full recovery.”
It felt like someone had taken every last bit of strength out of me. “She’ll… she’ll be in a coma for that long?” I gasped the words out, choking back sobs.
“No, no, no. I’m sorry. We will keep her in a coma for around a month depending on her vital signs and how her brain is doing.
The longest we’d keep her in that state would be around six weeks.
The rest of the recovery takes place in physical rehabilitation centers at first, and then at home.
She then would continue whatever therapy she needed to try to return to her normal life. ”
I let out a sigh of relief. It all still sounded horrible, but at least we weren’t looking at a year-long coma.
“Can I see her?”
He nodded. “Let me prepare you, though. She’s been through a lot, and her appearance reflects that.”
I nodded, holding back tears. I was almost scared to see her.
Not because I was in love with her appearance instead of her, but because she meant so much to me.
Sure, her appearance had drawn me to her, but it was her personality that made me fall for her.
Still, I hadn’t been the husband she deserved, and I hated myself for that.
The doctor directed me to a nurse who would show me to her room and told me he and their team of doctors would be by frequently to check on Blair. I thanked him, shook his hand, and followed the nurse to Blair’s room. She was still on the ICU floor, but at least she was in her own room.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, shocked by her appearance and how many tubes she had connected to her. The only sounds in the room were her ventilator and the beeps of the machines she was hooked up to.
I walked over and pulled up a chair.
I sat there for a long time, holding her hand and staring at her. The doctor had been right; she didn’t look like herself at all. They’d had to shave part of her hair for the surgery. The staples holding her head together were obvious; the incisions red and angry. Her skin was pale.
And somehow, she looked smaller, fragile.
I watched her, but there was no movement besides the rise and fall of her chest. And that was only possible because of the ventilator she was hooked up to.
There was no sign that she was in there, that she could hear me.
It was just me and the beeping, whirring machines that were helping keep her alive while her brain healed.
I needed to leave. I needed to go tell my six children that their beloved mom wasn’t coming home for a while.
How did I tell them? What would I say? I went over the options in my head, but none of them sounded right.
‘Sorry, but your mom was in a car wreck, almost died, had surgery, did die, was brought back from death, and is in a coma,’ didn’t seem at all reassuring.
Was I supposed to be reassuring? Or truthful?
Because it didn’t seem like I could be both.
“You would know the exact right thing to say,” I whispered to my comatose wife.
“Please, Blair. Please don’t leave us. I can’t do this without you.
” I squeezed her hand, hoping for the slightest tremor, the smallest indication that she was in there hearing me, feeling me, sensing me even while seeming to be completely unresponsive.
Blair was in a coma. She might not make it.
I had six children counting on me to keep their lives running.
I had a dental practice I needed to manage.
And I had to live with the guilt that I’d put her in that coma.
Indirectly, of course, but would she have been paying better attention if she hadn’t thought I was cheating on her?
I didn’t even know if the wreck was her fault.
From what I remembered, the officer had indicated the other driver, who had died, was to blame.
Still, what if she could’ve avoided it if she’d been focused solely on the road instead of thinking her husband was a cheater?
I closed my eyes tightly. She never would’ve come to the office if she hadn’t suspected me of messing around on her. She wouldn’t have been on that road in the rain. She wouldn’t have been struck by that huge van. She wouldn’t be in a coma.
It was my fault, even though I wasn’t even close to cheating. I should’ve just told her. I should’ve just let her plan the party with me.
I let go of her hand, placing it gently by her side. I dropped my head in my hands and tried to breathe in and out slowly. This was just all too overwhelming.
It was almost too much to take in.