Till Death Do Us Part

by Lari Smythe

  * * *

  It had been over an hour—more than one-thousand breaths since Jason's surgery. The doctors had removed his spleen and done some other repairs and successfully stopped his internal bleeding. His lung was completely re-inflated and they set his broken right leg. Jason was on some type of pain med that gave his breath a sweet, citrus smell. They were unable to get him to breathe on his own though they tried several times—for now, I was his lungs. The drape over me had been removed, and beyond my self imposed isolation with Jason the room was quiet except for a slight sobbing. With my next breath I realized it was Jason's mom. During the surgery, they made no attempt to do anything about his spine, but I vaguely remember them saying something about a specialist—so, we would wait. The door swooshed open.

  "How are you holding up, Nancy?"

  She sniffed and then blew her nose before answering. "I think they're the same."

  "Well, that's a good thing." Nurse Greene said.

  "Is there any news?"

  "No, not yet." Nurse Greene's voice was closer this time. "I'm sure the doctors are just trying to figure out their best option. I know the waiting is difficult. Izzy, how are you holding up? Are you thirsty? Can I get you some water?"

  I wasn't thirsty, not even a hint of thirst and I knew that was wrong. After so much time, this close—touching—breathing for him, my throat should be on fire, but there was nothing. I blew another breath into Jason's lungs. "He's slipping." I mumbled as her footsteps started away.

  "Izzy?" Jason's mom said. "I think she said something." She joined Nurse Greene at Jason's side.

  "What is it, Izzy?" Jason's mom pleaded.

  "He's slipping." I barely forced out.

  "Are you losing your grip?" Nurse Greene asked.

  "No, he's colder, fading—I'm trying, but I'm losing him."

  "I'll get Doctor Diaz." Nurse Greene's footsteps raced away and disappeared behind the swoosh of the door.

  Jason's mom ever so gently lay her hand on my arm as her face came into focus. She didn't seemed alarmed at the temperature or rigidity of my skin at all. She smiled, warmly.

  "Talk to him."

  "We have a connection that—"

  "I know, there's an even deeper connection between the two of you, but I bet he needs to hear your voice—to know you're alright—for you to tell him he's going to be alright."

  As my breath escaped from Jason's lungs, I whispered in his ear. "I love you." I took another breath and filled his lungs. "We're going to get through this. Your Mom's with us—she's here to help." I blew another breath into his lungs. "I love you."

  "That's it." His mom's face faded from focus and she let go of my arm as she stepped back.

  "It's working." I could feel his warmth growing. "I love you." I blew another breath into Jason's lungs.

  What sounded like a moan escaped as he exhaled.

  "Was that Jason?" Doctor Diaz said.

  "Yes." I filled his lungs again, but there was no sound as he exhaled this time.

  "See if he can take a breath on his own." Doctor Diaz said as she and Nurse Greene approached from either side of the bed.

  I inhaled another breath, but hesitated. The room was dead silent. "There." I said as Jason's chest rose with a shallow breath before he exhaled.

  "Let's get some oxygen on him." Doctor Diaz ordered as she placed her stethoscope on Jason's chest.

  Nurse Greene pulled a clear tube from the wall and placed it under Jason's nose, gently securing it with translucent, white, surgical tape. We all waited and watched as Jason took another breath, and then another. I looked up—Jason's mom was crying—happy tears.

  "That's good, right?" I said.

  "Yes." Doctor Diaz said. "It's a very good sign." But her words lacked the conviction they should have. There was something more—something she wasn't saying. "You still may have to help him, are you still able to continue if he needs you?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "See this number?" Nurse Greene said, pointing to an illuminated red 90. "Try to keep the number above ninety—it's his blood oxygen level—above ninety is good." She flopped a cord over the side of the bed. "Push this button if you need anything." On the end of the cord was a large red button embossed with the word CALL.

  "I can do that." Jason's mom said.

  "Good idea."

  I lowered my face back down to Jason's so I could feel his breath against my cheek.

  Doctor Diaz hurried out of the room—presumably to update the specialist. Nurse Greene went over to Jason's mom.

  "There are two people from Jason's school in the waiting area." she said. "I told them I would let you know that they are here."

  "I couldn't leave him."

  "I understand as I'm sure they do as well. They just wanted you to know that they're here for Jason—for you."

  "Have you told them anything?"

  "No, the hospital policy is family only."

  Jason's mom looked back at me.

  "Go ahead if you feel up to it, I'll watch over him."

  "Like the angel you are." she whispered so quietly even I could barely hear her. "I won't be long."

  "I know."

  Jason's mom and Nurse Greene walked out into the hallway and continued the conversation once the doors closed.

  "Did they say who they were?" Jason's mom said.

  "The school principal and Jason's football coach."

  "I want to bring them back to see him."

  "I'm afraid we don't allow visitors in the ICU."

  "One at a time? Just out here in the hallway?"

  "I don't know, it's still technically the ICU."

  "These two individuals are a very important part of my son's and Izzy's lives." She hesitated. "But honestly, between you and me, I'm being selfish."

  "How so?"

  "I think if Izzy can see them, it will give her strength to keep fighting for Jason. She has to be exhausted."

  "What she's done—what she's continuing to do seems humanly impossible. Do you really think it will help her?" Nurse Greene looked up and down the hallway. "It's late, except for your son, the ICU is empty—but just for a few minutes, and one at a time."

  "Bless you." Jason's mom hugged her and they both went off down the hall.

  A short time later, Jason's mom appeared at the window with Ms. Moore. When Ms. Moore saw us, she burst into tears.

  "I'm sorry," she wept, "I want to be strong for you."

  "Jason's stable as long as Izzy doesn't move." Jason's mom made a motion toward us. "She literally has Jason's life in her hands. The paramedics said that she called the shots at the scene and that if it wasn't for her, we would have already lost him. It's a miracle—there's no other explanation."

  Ms. Moore looked intently at me and I silently mouthed the words, 'Thank you.'

  She and Jason's mom hugged and then they left the way they came. While they were gone, Nurse Greene came to the window, but only to see how I was doing. When I forced a smile, she left.

  Jason's mom appeared at the edge of the window, motioning for someone to come closer. She backed away as Coach appeared at the edge of the window. He was wearing his Warrior blue jacket. The shoulders glistened with droplets of melted snow and he was sheepishly clutching his hat to his chest. His eyes were red and swollen, but he managed a composed expression.

  "Ms. Moore was just here." I whispered into Jason's ear. "Coach is here now."

  Jason's pulse quickened.

  I looked up to Jason's mom. "Open the door."

  She led Coach in front of the glass door and when she stepped forward, the door opened. As it did, I noticed the red numerals on the monitor drop to eighty. I blew a breath into Jason's lungs, and then another. The number came back up to ninety-one. When I looked back to the door, tears were streaming down both their faces.

  "He knows you're here, Coach, his pulse is stronger. Thank you."

  Jason's mom stepped back and the doors closed. As they turned to leave, I saw Nurse Greene b
ehind them—she was crying too.

  Doctor Diaz and a new doctor, with tight ringlets of graying, black hair that clung tightly to his balding head, were waiting in the hallway when Jason's mom returned.

  "Mrs. Whitaker, this is Doctor Hartman, he's the spine specialist we told you about."

  "Yes, nice to meet you. How's my son?"

  "There's a room down the hall where we can talk more privately." Doctor Diaz said.

  Jason's mom looked at us as I had to help Jason take another breath. "I don't want to leave him."

  "I understand, but—"

  "Just tell me what you have to do."

  "Very well." Doctor Diaz made a subtle gesture and Nurse Greene joined them, discretely easing closer to Jason's mom. This didn't look good.

  "Doctor Hartman, I'll let you explain."

  "Mrs. Whitaker, your son's cervical spine has been pulverized—in all my years I've never seen such a severe injury. I can't even contemplate how this could happen. Normally, there are seven distinct cervical vertebrae, C-1 at the base of the scull through C-7. In your son's case, we can only account for two of them. The remaining vertebrae have been reduced to more than a hundred lethally, sharp fragments. These fragments are suspended around your son's spinal cord." Doctor Diaz glanced at me as Doctor Hartman continued. "I have no idea—I can't even comprehend how—" He hesitated.

  "Izzy." Doctor Diaz said.

  "How Izzy managed to stabilize his spine." Doctor Hartman continued. "Quite frankly, it's impossible, like trying to hold a tube of sand together in water." He shook his head and held Jason's mom's hand between his. "If any one of those fragments touch his spinal cord, they would sever—"

  "So what you're saying, is my son is alive for as long as Izzy can hold him."

  "I'm afraid it's not that simple. Even if by some miracle she can continue to hold him still, the spinal fluid that's contained within the spinal column has been compromised. We can't stop the leaking without moving her hands and if we move her hands—well, I'm sure you can see the impasse."

  "Then there's nothing to be done?"

  "Benjamin?" I whispered at the sound of his voice.