Page 91 of Dr. Brandt

“Do you think you may move forward with the surgery with him in the coma?” Collin questioned.

“Not sure,” Cameron said. “I need to see the scans and go over labs and bloodwork. Fuck, I hate that I’m not there!” Cameron growled.

I pulled my face out of my hands, my rage matching Cameron’s.

“What the fuck were we thinking to leave the country with my son sick like this?” I questioned Cameron accusingly.

“Because he wasn’t sick like this,” Cam seethed. “If I saw this shit coming, I would’ve pressured you both to go through with surgery after I saw his first scans.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped back.

“Jessa,” Collin interrupted us as we escalated the conversation in the back of this SUV. “If Cameron were God, he would’ve known. Honestly, this happened, and it will be fixed. You have every right to be pissed, but please understand that the brain is a mysterious entity. We can’t predict everything that will happen. We just can’t. We can only control what we can control.”

“If I saw Jackson’s left hemisphere acting out of character and could have predicted an anomaly with his epilepsy, yes, you damn well better believe I would have mandated this surgery as his physician and as his father who loves him.”

“I just don’t understand,” I answered, furious at myself and becoming angrier at the world by the second.

Cameron’s hand covered my fidgeting ones. “I understand that more than you know,” he said to me. “I need to see why he took such a harsh turn so suddenly,” he returned his attention to Collin. “But, to answer your question, Col, I don’t know if I’ll operate on him and perform the surgery at this point. I can’t be sure.”

“I have operated on comatose epileptic patients before,” Collin said, “and my surgeries were successful. If you need my input on anything, please know that I will happily advise.”

“I appreciate that,” Cam answered. “I’ve assisted on two other surgeries in such conditions, but the patients were stable. I need to see those scans.”

“All right. If I hear anything, I’ll call, but I’m sure you’ll hear from Jakey first. Both of you stay strong. We’re all in this together for Jacks.”

“We’re just arriving at the airport,” Cam said. “We’ll be there soon.”

“I’m calling Warren, and I need to call my parents,” I finally said, having had enough of hearing about this shit and knowing we had a minimum two-hour flight before we got to my comatose son.

This was an absolute worst-case scenario, and half the reason we hadn’t put any stress on Jacks for the surgery was that I’d been fucking around with Cameron.

It was the entire fucking reason, actually. Cam and I were out here living it up billionaire-style, high on life without a care in the world, and that was why my son was in a coma instead of recovering from a surgery he should’ve had a month ago.

All this happened because I started screwing off and letting my responsibilities to my son slide. I’d permitted myself to let go of my burdens and unwind while my son’s condition progressively worsened. What kind of mother does that? And what kind of a man lets her?

This was all the product of me acting irresponsibly. I was ashamed of myself and took full responsibility for my son’s condition.

When my son needed me most, I was gone, and I’d never forgive myself for that.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Cam

I could tell Jessa internally cursed the ground I walked on, but no more than I did now. Regardless, I wouldn’t allow her or my emotions to interfere with the medical emergency facing us.

Although these jets flew higher and faster than a commercial airliner, the fucking thing couldn’t get to LAX fast enough for me.

“Fuck, Fremont,” I growled at my phone, wanting to know Jackson’s official Glasgow score and what was being displayed on his scans.

Jessa remained quiet while I went through a hundred different scenarios in my mind of how this might play out, but once we were at flying altitude, she’d gone to the back bedroom of the plane and hadn’t emerged since.

Ring!

“Dr. Nguni,” I said, answering the Chief of Pediatrics’ call before the second ring. “I’m on my way. The captain said we’re thirty minutes from descending into LAX.”

“Very good. I need to know where things stand with this patient,” he said.

From the tone of his voice, I could tell he was referring to my relationship with Jackson. I felt a jolt of fear strike me like a lightning bolt. How could I fix Jacks if I couldn’t be his physician?

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