“Sorry,” Alex breathed more than said. He sniffed, scrunching his nose. “Your mom’s in with Taylor now. That little girl was lucky. A broken wrist and a few scratches. Nothing she won’t heal from.”
“Do you know what happened?” Cael asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the entire situation.
“They think one of her tires blew out, and she lost control. The car flipped and rolled several times down an embankment before coming to a stop in the grass. Taylor was crying, still strapped into her car seat, but Abbey was unconscious when paramedics got to her. All they’ve told us so far is that she’s in extremely critical condition and lucky to be alive at all.”
“Abbey’s a fighter. She’ll pull through,” Cael said with as much conviction as he could muster. He had to believe she would. Taylor needed her mom. Zach couldn’t lose his sister. Alex and Amy didn’t want to bury their only daughter.
“I hope you’re right, Cael.” A quiet buzzing sound drew Alex’s attention. He lifted his hand and glanced down at his cell phone in his palm, then looked back up at Zach. “Your mom wants to know if you’re here yet. Come on. I’ll take you back.”
Zach’s dad led them down a long hallway and a series of turns to the pediatric wing. Arriving at one open door, he gestured them to enter. As they walked in, Zach’s mom looked up at both of them from her wheelchair, a mix of emotions all over her. Taylor’s tiny hand rested in hers as she caressed her granddaughter’s baby soft skin while Taylor’s other hand lay motionless at her side in the tiniest little cast Cael had ever seen. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t heartbreaking.
Amy gave them a pained smile. “She’s okay. Just sleeping.”
Zach leaned down and hugged his mom as she struggled to hug him with her free arm.
“What about you, Mom? Are you okay?” Zach asked, releasing her to kneel on one knee in front of her. He rubbed his hand across her twitching forearm.
“The pain is getting harder to manage, but I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” Amy sniffled a little. Tears crested her eyelashes as her resolve faltered, and her voice broke. “I just want to know that my baby’s okay.”
Cael cringed at how soft and weak her voice sounded. Amy’s MS had been actively progressing for the last several months. He remembered when she was first diagnosed with primary progressive multiple sclerosis. Zach and he were only freshmen in high school. Neither of them had truly understood what it meant. Over the last fifteen years since, Amy had fought the disease with more courage and strength than anyone had. Even as her body had succumbed to the chronic pain and last year, when she lost the ability to walk, her spirit had stayed strong. Abbey had that same spirit—that same will to live—and she was fighting for her life right now. She had to be.
“I know, Mom,” Zach whispered, clasping his mom’s trembling fingers.
Minutes became hours as hope for Abbey’s survival dwindled. As the four of them huddled in Taylor’s room, constantly shifting positions, they all clung to the belief that no news was good news.
Three hours passed. Zach’s dad sat in the only chair in the room, having moved it beside his wife’s wheelchair some time ago. Zach and Cael sat on the floor, their backs against the wall, Zach’s head resting on Cael’s shoulder as Taylor slept soundly in her bed. Cael reached for Zach’s hand, covering it with his but not going so far as to hold it. He wanted to be there for Zach in every way possible and wished he could do so much more.
A knock sounded on the door, and a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman in gray scrubs with a closely shaved head and warm brown eyes entered the room.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rivas?”
“Yes,” Alex answered, immediately standing.
“I’m Dr. Thomas. I have an update on your daughter, Abigail.”
Alex remained standing beside his wife, taking her hand once again. Zach and Cael scrambled off the floor and hurried closer. Standing next to Cael, Zach grabbed his hand and squeezed. Cael squeezed back, holding his breath for more than a couple reasons.
“I have good news and bad news,” Dr. Thomas said, her eyes sympathetic. “As of now, her condition is stable, but still critical.”
“Oh, thank God,” Amy whispered, fresh tears springing from the corners of her eyes.
Relief poured through Cael, but he could tell there was more dire news.
“Details please, doctor,” Alex said.
“Let me start by saying your daughter is very lucky to be alive right now. As a result of the rollover accident, blunt force trauma from where her head may have come in contact with the roof and driver’s door window has caused a severe brain injury that resulted in internal hemorrhaging. We performed a decompressive craniectomy to alleviate the pressure in her brain and control the bleeding. She also suffered cervical dislocation between her third and fourth vertebrae, as well as a hairline fracture of her C4. However, there was no actual damage to her spinal cord. We’ve set her spine and immobilized her. Those are the most severe of her injuries. Among her less severe injuries are a broken left radius, dislocated left shoulder, bruising along her entire left side as well as cuts and bruises on her face.”
“What exactly does all that mean, doctor?” Zach asked.
“It means her bones will heal and she’ll not experience any type of paralysis. The injury to her brain is where I’m most concerned. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical to her survival. We’re monitoring her closely and we’ll continue to do so until I’m confident her life is no longer in imminent danger. I must be honest with you, though. The chances of her waking with no permanent disability on some level is highly unlikely.”
“Waking?” Cael asked. “When you say waking…”
Dr. Thomas gave all of them an empathetic look. “Abigail was unconscious when she arrived and has since been unresponsive to external stimuli.” Pause. “She has gone into a coma. Unfortunately, there is no way to know how much time will pass before she comes out of it.”
“You mean, if she comes out of it,” Alex deadpanned.
A heavy silence fell over the small hospital room, lingering for what felt like an eternity.
