Page 65 of Love on the Brain
“We got it all.” Dr. Moreira spoke directly to Jane.
Ryan was aware of the tears streaking down his cheeks. Tears of joy, a release after all the pressure that had weighed on his shoulders for months. The procedure progressed as planned, and Ryan felt a wave of relief after his colleague reported that after the final scans, the oncological surgeon declared all traces had been removed. Noah’s vitals remained stable throughout, and there hadn’t been any unexpected complications.
He couldn’t imagine how much heavier Jane’s weights had been and still were. God knew he wanted to help her carry them.
Ryan wasn’t alone in his weeping. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. How loved this little boy was. He mustered his voice to provide a brief summary of the procedure and what to expect when Noah woke up.
“It’s common to experience pain, loss of memory, difficulty with certain functions, vision impairment. We won’t know the extent until he wakes up,” Dr. Moreira said. It was a line Ryan had spoken thousands of times, almost word for word.
He tuned out the rest as he and Jane followed the doctor to Noah.
Praise Jesus.
* * *
Jane clungto Ryan as they waited for Noah to wake up, praying for the best. After what seemed like an eternity, the little boy’s eyelashes fluttered and his brow creased. His face scrunched up in the way that usually preceded a loud scream, but no sound came.
“Noah? Can you hear me?” Ryan asked.
Then a whimper. “Dah-dee?”
Ryan leaned back from the bed, his expression unreadable. Jane wondered if they were thinking the same thing. Was Noah seeing something—or someone—they couldn’t? Her heart pounded at the prospect.
“No, sweetie, but Mommy’s here.”
“M-mo-mmy?”
“Yes, Noah. Can you see me?”
“Buh-y.”
Jane glanced at Ryan.
“Blurry,” Ryan said. He removed his pen light from his pocket and returned to his former position leaning over Noah to inspect his eyes.
“Biii! Biiiiite!”
Jane gasped at Noah’s obvious distress from the light. Ryan flicked off the light and laid his calming hand on her shoulder. She leaned into it.
“Sorry, bud,” Ryan said. “I had to check. Can you hear me okay?”
Noah squinted. “Huts.”
“What hurts, baby?” Jane asked, trying to keep her voice even and calm. On the inside she wanted to scream, weep, throw things.
“Heh-duh. I-sss.”
“Your head? Eyes?”
“Yah. And froat. Burns.”
“Your throat is burning?”
“Yah.” His face crinkled in agony.
“Can you give him more for the pain?” Jane’s voice was hoarse, and she hated how desperate she sounded. But Noah was her baby. She couldn’t stand to see him in pain.
Ryan nodded. “Let me finish examining him.” Jane moved up the bed and laid her hands on Noah’s shoulder while Ryan checked his reflexes, heart, and lungs. “It’s okay to feel pain, Noah. Helpful, even. Think of pain as the bad stuff leaving your body so it can get stronger. Pain alerts us when something is wrong so we can fix it. And sometimes, the fixing and the healing hurts. That’s because our bodies have to work really hard to heal and be strong again.”
