Chapter 1 #2
“If necessary, a portion of her skull can be removed to give the brain more room to expand. I briefed a neurosurgeon in Eugene on the case earlier today, but I’m hoping the swelling will go down before we have to take that step.
Also, while your sister is breathing on her own, there are indications her airway reflexes are diminished.
So we’re going to put her on a ventilator.
Please don’t be alarmed by that. It’s often required in cases like this. ”
Devyn’s heart stumbled.
She was supposed to remain calm while they put her sister on a ventilator?
In what universe?
“Hey.” The doctor reached over and touched the back of her cold hand. “If she responds as I hope, she’ll begin to wake up soon and the ventilator won’t be necessary.”
“There’s no way to predict what kinds of long-term effects there might be from this injury until after she’s out of the coma, right?” She didn’t really have to ask. Her research had already given her the answer.
“No.” At least the neurologist didn’t try to sugarcoat her response. “The brain can be unpredictable, and tests don’t always give us clear indications about the extent of damage. But we’ll begin to get answers fast when she starts to regain consciousness.”
When, not if.
That was something, anyway.
“What if there is damage?”
“Why don’t we cross that bridge if we come to it? We’ll know more in the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours. And keep this in mind—many people who’ve been in short-term comas make excellent recoveries.”
Short-term being the key.
“May I stay here with her tonight?”
The doctor hesitated. “The visiting hours end at ten, but we do bend the rules on occasion. However, I’d encourage you to get a decent night’s sleep in a real bed. We can call you if there’s any change. Are you staying nearby?”
“I don’t know where I’m staying yet. I wanted to get an update on Lauren’s condition before I made plans.
My sister lives about forty-five minutes from here, in Hope Harbor, but I don’t have a key to her house.
” Even if she’d spent the early years of her life in the family home her sister had inherited.
“There may be keys among the clothing and personal items that were brought in with her.”
Devyn hesitated.
Staying in Hope Harbor would be preferable to living in a hotel for an extended period, but until she had a better handle on her sister’s prognosis, a forty-five-minute commute was too long.
“I’ll take her personal items with me, but I think I’ll stay at a hotel in Coos Bay for a few days.”
“No other friends or relatives in the area?”
“No. For all practical purposes, it’s just me and my sister. Our mom’s overseas and not very involved in our lives.”
After considering her for a moment, the doctor pulled out a card and a pen and wrote a number on the back. “I don’t often give my cell number to families, but if you aren’t getting the answers you want fast enough, call me.” She held it out.
Devyn took it, throat tightening. “Thank you.”
“And remember, you have a whole team here dedicated to getting your sister back on her feet.”
“I appreciate that.”
“No problem.” The doctor rose. “Now that we’ve talked, I’m going to stop in the ICU and write up orders for the plan we discussed.
Why don’t you spend a few minutes with your sister while I do that, then check into a hotel and have a meal?
Your sister’s going to need your help during her recovery, so it’s important to take care of yourself. ”
The doctor walked back with her to the ICU, detouring to the desk as Devyn continued toward her sister’s room.
Outside the glass doors, Devyn hesitated for a moment.
She owed Mom an update . . . but that could wait until she found a hotel.
After all, it wasn’t like she could count on their mother to be more than a long-distance cheer squad—if that.
Cynthia Lee Dufour wasn’t the type to drop everything and fly more than five thousand miles to pitch in during a medical emergency.
As she’d often said, dealing with health issues wasn’t her thing.
Devyn pushed through the door to Lauren’s room, the memory of her own past injuries flashing through her mind.
Like the torn ligaments she’d suffered in her ankle after a bad landing during a rehearsal for Sleeping Beauty.
Or the painful hip impingement she’d had to deal with after dancing for too many hours day after day, with insufficient rest in between.
Mom had walked a wide circle around those incidents, leaving her in the hands of professionals and encouraging her to take charge of her own follow-up care.
So whatever family assistance Lauren required would have to come from her sister, not her mother.
And that was fine. She’d make this work.
Whatever it took.
After all the disruptions she’d caused in her sister’s life thanks to the demands of her dancing, walking with her through this crisis was the least she could do.
Devyn stopped beside the bed and took Lauren’s hand again. “I’m back, sis. I talked to the doctor. You’re getting excellent care, and I’ll be hovering in the wings. If you can hear me, squeeze my fingers.”
No reaction—not that she’d expected one. Sudden responsiveness would have been too much to hope for.
So as the monitors beeped and the blood pressure cuff whooshed and the oxygen cannula whistled, Devyn shut out the noise, closed her eyes, and sent a silent prayer heavenward for guidance and fortitude.
Both of which she was going to need in abundance during the days—and perhaps weeks—ahead.