Page 20 of Tough Love
How she can go from being able to speak a few words when I saw her Friday night, to a near vegetable on Sunday … I can’t understand it. But I guess the bleeds on her brain were really that bad, and perhaps if I hadn’t been such a stubborn bitch and had gone to see her myself, I might have realised that.
But what’s done is done, and I won’t feel bad for putting Briar’s needs first. I just won’t.
I can’t.
I follow my parents into the elevator, aware they know where to find Kath and I don’t. Briar watches the numbers change on the display as we ascend to the second floor, fascinated by the movement of the car as it comes to a stop.
The sterile odour hits me first as we exit into the waiting room. It’s the smell of cleanliness, and death. Of finalities and nightmares come true.
“I’ll go ask if she’s had her tests again.”
Something in the way Mum talks about Kath, as though she’s coherent and likely to walk away from this, irks me. Not that I expect her to treat Kath like an object, but the tone still grates at me as I watch her cross the patterned carpet to the nurses’ station.
“Should we sit?” I ask Dad.
He looks around the space as though he’s lost, like he’s woken from a dream and he’s still trying to work out if where he is, is real or not.
“She might not be long.” He shifts his gaze to Mum.
I squat down to Briar’s level. “You okay?”
“Why are we here?” He reaches out and takes my hand, clutching it tight as he shuffles in closer.
“This is where your mum is, buddy. Remember?”
“I don’t like it.” Tears prick his eyes, and I pull him closer as Mum returns.
“They’ll take us through to talk with the doctor.” She indicates we should follow the nurse who’s opened the alarmed doors for us.
Pale blue walls give way to cream, as though colour doesn’t matter anymore when your prognosis isn’t all that flash. I keep Briar’s hand in mine as the nurse brings us all to a stop outside a tastefully decorated office. The plush sofa on one wall and decorative vases with fake flowers give it a definite feminine softness. A comfort, I guess, when your days are spent in sterile confinement.
“I’ll wait outside with Briar,” I say as Mum and Dad enter.
“The doctor will want to speak to the whole family,” the nurse reassures softly before leaving with a gentle smile.
I take a seat on a plain stackable chair beside the two-seater sofa that Mum and Dad fill. Briar keeps close, tucking himself between my legs, seeking comfort. Setting my own inhibitions aside, I place both hands on his waist and pick him up, settling the kid on my lap.
I don’t miss Mum’s curious gaze.
Our focus is drawn to the door as who I assume to be the doctor enters. “Harris family?” She clutches a folder to her chest, dressed impeccably in a knee-length skirt and silky blouse.
Her warm brown eyes assess Briar, the curls in her dark blonde hair bouncing as she turns abruptly to my parents.
“Dr Carlson.”
Dad shakes her hand. Mum clutches her purse in her lap tighter.
“I’ll do my best to explain,” the good doctor says as she takes a seat at the laminate desk, “but if you need me to elaborate, please interrupt.”
The following ten or so minutes is spent with the doctor doing everything she can to break the medical terminology down so everybody can understand what she’s saying, whilst also avoiding too many details, presumably so as not to upset Briar.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know there’s no coming back from this for Kath. Soft tissue isn’t so forgiving on blunt force trauma.
With each complication the doctor ticks off on her list of things to explain, I find myself naturally pulling Briar tighter. He watches the woman with unhindered interest, his eyes wide, and that shock of dark hair unmoving on his still head. The kid never flinches, absorbing, processing, blocking.
We’re given the options: keep her on life support and hope for a miracle, or take the situation for what it is. Being the realists they are, my parents ask for the stats. What are the odds of her regaining consciousness? What are the chances that she’ll be able to communicate if she does? What does her future hold?
Does she even have one?