The voice of the neurologist who’d called last night spoke from the doorway.
Devyn twisted sideways. “Dr. Sherman?”
“Yes.” The white-coated woman, who looked to be in her fifties, remained on the threshold. “Having family on hand is always helpful during a health crisis, especially with head injuries. Why don’t we talk for a few minutes? There’s a small lounge near the ICU.”
“Okay.” Devyn leaned close to her sister and brushed a stray wisp of hair back from her face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, sis.”
The doctor led the way down the hall, out of the ICU and to a small, deserted lounge. “Have a seat.” She motioned to one of the chairs and took the adjacent one. “Thank you for coming so fast. I’m sure you’re exhausted after our late call and your cross-country flight.”
Devyn waved that aside. “This is what family does in an emergency.” Not counting Mom, who’d said she’d wait for an update before embarking on the long trip from Paris—no doubt hoping Lauren would wake up, rendering such a trek unnecessary.
“Not always.” The doctor’s lips morphed into a rueful twist, leveling out as she continued. “I was just leaving the hospital whenI got the call you’d arrived, and I decided to come back up to talk with you in person. I’ll try to use layman’s language, but don’t hesitate to stop me if I start to throw in too many medical terms.”
“I already did some research on comas during my flights, but the information I found online was kind of mind-boggling. And scary.” To say the least.
“Brain injuries are complicated. On the plus side, your sister didn’t suffer any other trauma beyond a few minor bruises and a sprained wrist. That lets us concentrate on the brain. As I told you last night, the original CT scan showed minor swelling, but there was no indication of major structural injuries or bleeding. Your sister’s pupils are responsive, her reflexes are functioning, she reacts to pain, and she’s breathing on her own. Those are all hopeful signs. Our goal now is to reduce the swelling to prevent any potential damage from intracranial pressure.”
“Have you tried diuretics and steroids?” Based on her in-air research, those were the first line of attack for brain swelling.
“Yes. They haven’t had any effect. And the newest CT scan indicates that the swelling has increased. We’re concerned about a reduction in oxygen supply and blood flow to the brain, as well as brain stem issues.”
Devyn fisted her hands until her nails bit into her palms. Every site she’d found said brain stem issues were a recipe for disaster. “So what do we do?”
“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 thereisdamage?”
“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 hotelfor an extended period, but until she had a better handle on her sister’s prognosis, a forty-five-minute commute was too long.
