He waited.
A flash of light caught his attention, and he turned to see flashbulbs going off in quick succession, a streak of yellow disappearing into the tunnel beneath the faceless fans. With a furrowed brow, he walked toward the light, a sense of curiosity egging him on. He squinted, the light blinding him the closer he got until it was too much. He closed his eyes tightly, an overwhelming sense of love flooding his being. He was floating through time and space—it was peaceful and calm. The steady, strong rhythm of his heart beat—and he slept.
***
“If we don’t operate, he won’t make it. If we do operate, he still might not make it. We have to try. We have to save his life.”
Jessica was numb, clutching her hands in her lap, listening to Emory neurosurgeon, Dr. Gerald Olson speak to Tim’s sister, Tabitha, in California. She was listed as Tim’s emergency contact on his cellphone, which hadn’t left her side all night. The two spoke for several minutes, Jessica overhearing words like “neurosurgical procedure” and “craniotomy.” She also overheard him say it was a miracle he hadn’t hemorrhaged. The CT scan revealed a fracture in his skull from a violent blow to the head—a blow from a large Georgia pine during the F2 tornado. There was a possible clot near his jugular. His brain was swelling—he needed the procedure to relieve the pressure in his head and save his life.
Her stomach churned as Dr. Olson explained to Tabitha that a part of his skull would be removed to allow his swelling brain room to expand without being squeezed to death. This was a procedure usually performed on victims of traumatic brain injury including conditions associated with raised intracranial pressure. Jessica understood that a raised intracranial pressure was debilitating and could be fatal if it restricted the blood flow to the brain. Their aim was to reduce the pressure. It sounded easy, but it was far from it.
“Yes, we’re going to get started shortly. I’ll put you back on with Jessica.” The doctor offered a smile of reassurance and handed her the phone.
“Hello?” Jessica uttered, her voice hoarse from crying most of the morning.
“Hey, Jessica.” Tabitha sniffled across the long-distance line. “They’re going to do the procedure. I’m gonna get out of here as fast as I can.”
“Okay. I’ll keep Tim’s phone charged and text you with any updates so you’ll have them when you land.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “I know this is hard, but my big brother is a strong man. He’s gonna make it, Jessica. Don’t worry.” Her voice pitched as if she were trying to convince herself what she said was true.
“I’ll be here. I won’t leave.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
The line went dead, and Jessica looked up at Dr. Olson. “What happens now?”
Sitting next to her, he patted her hand. “We’ll get him prepped for surgery and start as soon as possible.”
Nodding, she swiped at tears that started to trickle down her cheeks again.
“I’ll have the nurse update you on our progress. It’ll take two to three hours tops. I suggest you get cleaned up and rest. Stay in the private waiting area. I was told several news crews are already camped out waiting for details. News travels fast when a famous NFL quarterback does something heroic. We have PR folks on site who will handle it, so don’t feel like you have to talk to them.”
“Okay,” Jessica replied. Shock had settled over her—that, and the lack of sleep left her dazed.
The man patted her hand again and stood. With a deep sigh, he turned and disappeared through the secure doors for employees only. Fingering Tim’s phone in her lap, the home screen displayed a snapshot of her walking ahead of him in the field of flowers. He had never shown her this photo before. It brought comfort knowing he had wanted a piece of her on him at all times—an indelible memory of a beautiful moment they had together. His last words floated through her thoughts.
I love you, Jessica. Everything will be okay.
A wave of nausea filtered through her and she had to take deep breaths to keep it at bay. Holding her head in her hands, she wept.
“Honey? Oh, Jessica...”
Looking up, a nurse had escorted her mother into the private room and quietly closed the door.
“Mama,” she moaned, thankful for the familiar face.
She clung to her mother, allowing her pent-up emotions and fear to come out in loud wails. Mrs. Southers rocked her daughter back and forth in her arms, running her hand tenderly down the back of her head.
“There, there. I’m here. I’m here, honey.”
When she couldn’t shed another tear, Jessica pulled back, her eyes swollen with emotion. Her mother handed her a packet of tissues. It took her several minutes to calm down before she could speak a full sentence.
“Did…Luanna…come?” she asked, her sentence coming out in a short burst of words.
“Yes. She’s at the house with Daddy and Elizabeth. The girls are still sleeping. I don’t want you to worry about a thing. You can stay with us as long as you need to.”
Jessica nodded and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder.
