rises. “Less damage means he’ll be okay.”
“Less damage means fewer functions lost.”
His words strike fear into me. I hadn’t given much thought to the long-term effects of a bullet ripping through Daniel’s brain. “What are the functions that might be affected?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
“The bullet entered the right side of his brain, which will cause muscle weakness on the left side of his body. He’ll have some trouble with spatial perception, and his balance will be affected. There will be memory loss, with his short-term memory being affected the most. He’ll be able to recall certain things that happened a long time ago, but not others. He may not be able to remember some of the events that occurred prior to the injury. His memory loss may be subtle or it may be profound. It’s too early to tell. Gunshot wounds to the brain are a lot like snowflakes. Every one of them is different and unique. But we have some major obstacles to get past before we can assess his memory. He needs to wake up and be able to breathe on his own first. He’s got a long road ahead of him.” Dylan and I must be wearing matching terrified expressions because the doctor adds, “Returning to a near-normal life after suffering an injury of this nature is very possible. I’ve had patients who were able to return to their lives with minimal problems after several months of rehabilitation and recovery. Daniel is young, healthy, and strong. Those are factors that all bode well for his recovery.”
“So what will happen next?” I ask.
“We wait for him to wake up. In the meantime, keep talking to him. Let him know you’re here and that you’re supporting him. Let him know that you love him.”
CHAPTER THREE
JESSIE
Dylan receives a call from Mimi at eight thirty. He leaves Daniel’s room, and I can hear him trying to calm his mother down as he walks away. I can only imagine how helpless Mimi and Jerry must feel.
A nurse comes in and replaces one of the empty bags hanging from the IV pole. “There’s coffee down the hall, Mrs. Rush. It’s the second door on the left after you leave the ICU area.”
When they call me Mrs. Rush, I’ve stopped looking around to see who they’re speaking to and roll with it. It seems petty to stop and correct the doctors and nurses, especially as they’d probably boot me right out of here if they knew the truth.
“Thank you. I’ll get some in a little while.”
I don’t want to leave Daniel’s room until Dylan comes back. Returning to his bedside, I hold his hand and speak softly, telling him that he’s getting better.
Telling him that everything will be okay.
When Dylan returns, he says that his parents are just outside Albuquerque and it will take them approximately twelve hours to reach the hospital. “They’ll be calling hourly for updates. If anything…goes wrong, I’m to call them immediately.”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
“You don’t know that, Jess.”
“It’s what I choose to believe.” I gather up my purse. “I need to make a few calls. Do you want me to bring you back some coffee?”
He sits down in the chair, looking as morose as I’ve ever seen him. He glances at Daniel and exhales. “No. I don’t want anything.”
Out in the hallway there is a cluster of uniformed police officers.
Officer Spinner strides up to me. “How are you doing?” he asks, his expression gentle yet concerned. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you. Have you been here all night?”
“Yes. Daniel is more than a coworker to me. He’s also a friend. I’ll be leaving soon, but there will be someone coming to take my place, and I’ll return in a few hours. Our role is to provide ongoing support to the families. There will always be someone here.”
His statement confuses me. “Families?”
“There was a reserve officer riding with Daniel. He was also shot and is in
“Less damage means fewer functions lost.”
His words strike fear into me. I hadn’t given much thought to the long-term effects of a bullet ripping through Daniel’s brain. “What are the functions that might be affected?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
“The bullet entered the right side of his brain, which will cause muscle weakness on the left side of his body. He’ll have some trouble with spatial perception, and his balance will be affected. There will be memory loss, with his short-term memory being affected the most. He’ll be able to recall certain things that happened a long time ago, but not others. He may not be able to remember some of the events that occurred prior to the injury. His memory loss may be subtle or it may be profound. It’s too early to tell. Gunshot wounds to the brain are a lot like snowflakes. Every one of them is different and unique. But we have some major obstacles to get past before we can assess his memory. He needs to wake up and be able to breathe on his own first. He’s got a long road ahead of him.” Dylan and I must be wearing matching terrified expressions because the doctor adds, “Returning to a near-normal life after suffering an injury of this nature is very possible. I’ve had patients who were able to return to their lives with minimal problems after several months of rehabilitation and recovery. Daniel is young, healthy, and strong. Those are factors that all bode well for his recovery.”
“So what will happen next?” I ask.
“We wait for him to wake up. In the meantime, keep talking to him. Let him know you’re here and that you’re supporting him. Let him know that you love him.”
CHAPTER THREE
JESSIE
Dylan receives a call from Mimi at eight thirty. He leaves Daniel’s room, and I can hear him trying to calm his mother down as he walks away. I can only imagine how helpless Mimi and Jerry must feel.
A nurse comes in and replaces one of the empty bags hanging from the IV pole. “There’s coffee down the hall, Mrs. Rush. It’s the second door on the left after you leave the ICU area.”
When they call me Mrs. Rush, I’ve stopped looking around to see who they’re speaking to and roll with it. It seems petty to stop and correct the doctors and nurses, especially as they’d probably boot me right out of here if they knew the truth.
“Thank you. I’ll get some in a little while.”
I don’t want to leave Daniel’s room until Dylan comes back. Returning to his bedside, I hold his hand and speak softly, telling him that he’s getting better.
Telling him that everything will be okay.
When Dylan returns, he says that his parents are just outside Albuquerque and it will take them approximately twelve hours to reach the hospital. “They’ll be calling hourly for updates. If anything…goes wrong, I’m to call them immediately.”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
“You don’t know that, Jess.”
“It’s what I choose to believe.” I gather up my purse. “I need to make a few calls. Do you want me to bring you back some coffee?”
He sits down in the chair, looking as morose as I’ve ever seen him. He glances at Daniel and exhales. “No. I don’t want anything.”
Out in the hallway there is a cluster of uniformed police officers.
Officer Spinner strides up to me. “How are you doing?” he asks, his expression gentle yet concerned. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you. Have you been here all night?”
“Yes. Daniel is more than a coworker to me. He’s also a friend. I’ll be leaving soon, but there will be someone coming to take my place, and I’ll return in a few hours. Our role is to provide ongoing support to the families. There will always be someone here.”
His statement confuses me. “Families?”
“There was a reserve officer riding with Daniel. He was also shot and is in
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