Page 11 of Sparking Sara

Joelle looks at him with eyes glazed over. “You might as well be speaking Chinese,” she says.

“Essentially, the brain is nothing more than a marshmallow floating in a cup that’s just a bit bigger in diameter than the brain itself. When you’re in a vehicle that suddenly crashes, the brain will rush forward, hitting the front of the skull, and then bounce back to hit the rear of the skull. This causes damage to both the frontal cortex and the posterior of the brain.”

Joelle’s hand covers her mouth. “Oh my God. What does that mean?”

The doctor sighs. “Well, that we don’t know. And we won’t for some time. Maybe days or weeks. Sara has a lot of blood and swelling in the brain.” He points to a wire coming out of her skull. “See this? This measures ICP. Intercranial pressure. We need to try and keep the ICP down or we may have to drill another hole and remove part of her skull to relieve the pressure.”

Joelle sits down in the chair next to the bed and looks at her cousin. “This sounds bad. Is she … is she going to die?”

“At this point, we don’t know. Anything is possible. With brain injuries, we could be looking at death or complete recovery or anything in between. We’ll know more in a few days when we can do another MRI after the swelling goes down. But right now, the swelling is only getting worse, and it will continue to do so for about the next twenty-four hours.”

“And the tubes down her throat?” Joelle asks.

“One is the ventilator. It’s breathing for her. The other is a feeding tube for nutrition.”

“She can’t breathe on her own?”

“Not right now she can’t. Her brain needs to heal before that can happen. Assuming the brain damage didn’t go all the way down her brain stem, she may eventually be able to breathe on her own.”

Joelle looks at the doctor in horror. “She mayneverbe able to breathe on her own?”

As they continue to discuss Sara’s condition, I look over at the hospital bed. She looks a little better now. At least the blood is gone. Her face is easier to look at, and I can tell that she’s a beautiful woman. But there are still tubes and wires everywhere. I can’t imagine what her boyfriend will think when he sees her.

The doctor puts a hand on Joelle’s arm. “You need to prepare yourself for the worst. With this kind of brain injury, almost every body system can be impacted. It’s possible she may never walk or talk. It’s also possible she could make a full recovery.”

“What are the chances of both of those scenarios? What are the odds she’ll die?”

He shakes his head. “I really can’t say. It’s different for everyone. But Sara has youth on her side, so for now, we sit back and monitor her and hope for the best.”

“I can’t be here much,” she tells him. “I have twin toddlers at home.”

“I can stay,” I tell them. “Until her boyfriend gets here.”

The doctor nods. “Do I have your permission to discuss Sara’s case with, uh …”

“Denver Andrews,” I tell him.

“Do I have your permission to discuss it with Mr. Andrews in your absence?”

Joelle nods. “Yes, and with Oliver—that’s her boyfriend. We’re trying to get ahold of him.”

“I’ll keep you updated as much as I can. And feel free to call the nurses’ station at any time.”

“Thank you, Dr. Miller,” she says.

Joelle and I sit with Sara for a while, but we don’t talk much. She calls her husband and explains everything to him. Then she stands up. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. John—that’s my husband—said he’ll try to find Oliver, but we just don’t know much about him. Except that he does a lot of traveling.” She nods to Sara. “They both do.”

Joelle and I exchange numbers before she leaves.

“You’re really a very kind person to sit with her,” she says on her way out.

“It’s the least I can do.”

She flashes me a sad smile and then walks out.

Sometime later, I’m startled awake by a loud beeping noise. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the chair next to Sara’s bed. The night nurse comes in and looks Sara over. “Her fever is getting worse. I’m going to put some cooling packs under her armpits.”

“Does she have an infection?” I ask.

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