Though I open my mouth to protest, nothing comes out. Dylan speaks when I can’t. “It’s okay. I’ll be out here for you when you’re done.”
Once we’re behind the doors, the sounds and smells of the hospital serve as some kind of cruel time machine. My own head injuries landed me in rehab, and even long after I was healed, the sounds haunted my dreams. The nurse brings me into a room not unlike the one I was just in out front with Dr. Young. He’s already sitting at a small table, filling out more papers.
“The CT scan revealed a small blockage at the base of her skull. Is that where she would complain of her migraine pain?” His pen is poised in the air, waiting for my response.
“Uh, I think so.” Suddenly, I’m incapable of remembering what she would complain about. I just knew enough to take care of her, shut the lights, keep everything quiet, make her coffee in the morning, and only ask questions that needed a one or two finger response.
“That’s fine if you don’t remember.” He pulls what looks like an x-ray out of a folder; though instead of it being a broken bone, it’s my sister’s brain. Dr. Young points out a few things, most importantly, the small but unmistakable blockage. “You’re lucky you found her when you did. The possibility that she had a small stroke at some point today is still there, but with this surgery, we should be able to shrink or even possibly remove the blockage.”
Over the next ten minutes, he goes over the procedure – most of which I can’t even stomach. “There’s a family waiting room right outside of surgery. You can call anyone else you might need to.”
Shaking my head, I say, “It’s just me.” He nods and taps his stack of papers on the table.
Scanning my more-than-concerned face, Dr. Young clicks his pen closed and slides it into his pocket. “She’s young and in very good health. Those things, and the fact that you found her in what seems like minutes after it happened, are all on her side.” He shakes my hand once again, and directs Shannon, the nurse, to take me to see Rachel.
Rachel is in a pre-operating room, hooked up to more monitors than any one person should ever be attached to. Her face looks swollen and she looks so tiny on the gurney. There’s a stool at her side where I sit and lose all ability to speak.
Holding her small hand in mine makes my hand look more like a paw than anything else. A low chuckle rises in my chest thinking about how she’s said the same thing to me more than a few times before. “Mom, Dad,” I close my eyes, trying desperately to picture them once again, “I know you’re up there. You helped me once before by not letting me give up. Please, do the same for Rach now. Please help her; tell her she needs to stay here with me.”
As the last word tumbles from my mouth, a team of nurses enter the room. With bags of fluid and other medical equipment in hand, they scurry about the room, making sure they have everything in line. The nurse who brought me in places her hand on my slumped shoulder. “She’s in good hands, I promise.”
After kissing her forehead, I tell Rachel I love her and that I’ll be right outside waiting for her to wake up. In my darkest days, when I wasn’t sure if I could ever walk again, I never thought I’d have to walk away from my little sister and not know whether I would ever see her again.
When I go back out to the main waiting room, I see Dylan at the opposite end with his phone pressed up to his ear. As I walk closer to him, I catch bits of his conversation.
“Definitely not Monday, and probably the rest of the week, too.” A few more “uh huhs” and “yeahs” follow.
“Thanks, Reid. We appreciate it. Yeah, talk to you later.” I step to Dylan’s side as he slips his phone into his back pocket. “Hey, what’s going on?” Dylan asks. Despite being filled with anxiety-laden concern, Dylan’s voice washes over me and soothes my wracked nerves.
Collapsing into a flimsy chair, I’m surprised I don’t crush it. Going back over everything the doctor told me, I fill Dylan in on what’s happening with Rachel. Through the whole explanation, he remains focused and strong. A rock at my side. “She’s going to make it,” he says with a calm, sureness I wish I felt.
A few minutes later, another nurse comes in and escorts us to the private waiting room. Every second ticking away on the clock is a loud ricochet bouncing around in the small room. Seconds build into minutes, into an hour, a slow avalanche catching more and more speed – threatening to bury me alive.
One hour and seventeen minutes after we enter the room, the door cracks open and I feel vomit rise in my mouth. When Reid’s face and not Dr. Young’s appears, I’m able to breathe some oxygen into my lungs. A pretty blonde follows in behind him.
“Hey,” Dylan greets him as he walks across to him, and gives him a half-hug, half-backslap. “Where’s Braden?”
“We dropped him at Momma’s. She sends her love and prayers.” The girl with the sweet voice wraps her arms around Dylan’s neck and squeezes him so hard I’m surprised his face doesn’t turn blue.
Reid steps across to me, holds out his hand. “Conner, I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?” The best response I can come up with is a lame “okay” along with a weak shrug. Pulling the girl to his side, he confirms what I had already pieced together. “This is my wife, Maddy.”
Without a pause, Maddy opens her arms and gives me a big hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, though I really wish it were under different circumstances.” She breaks the hug and steps back to Reid’s side.
“Here you go.” Reid hands Dylan a bag. “I just grabbed whatever I could. Hope it’s okay.” Dylan nods and drops the bag to the side of a chair.
“Do you guys need anything? Have you eaten or do you want any coffee?” Maddy offers, eager to help in any way she can.
“No, I’m fine. Just wish the doctor would get here already.” We all sit in a row of chairs, facing the door waiting for it to open.
When another hour passes with no news, dread begins to consume me. Teetering on the edge of the unknown, where a life without my sister is a black nothingness on the other side, I reign in my fears, not wanting to lash out just yet.
If I had anything to offer to the God who’d already taken my career, my parents, my hopes and dreams and crushed them, I would give Him anything He wanted just so I could still have Rachel in my life.
As if in slow motion, the door creaks open and we all stand. Out of a combination of instinct and necessity, I reach for Dylan’s hand when Dr. Young walks into the room. Maddy and Reid do the same and we all stand before him, a wall of fear and concern.
“Everything went extremely well,” his words are muffled, but unmistakable even from behind his sea-foam green surgical mask. “Please sit.” He pulls a freestanding chair up to the row of chairs where we were just sitting.
“We’ll be right outside,” Dylan explains, pulling Maddy and Reid with him to give me the privacy he thinks I need.
