“Thank you. For the ride and the kind words. We are going to need them.”
“You’re welcome. And ma’am?” he adds, stopping me again.
“Yes?”
“A wise person once said, ‘When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on so long in the first place.’ Don’t let go when things get tough. Everything happens for a reason.”
He says nothing else after, he only tips his head with a kind smile, and then he pulls away. I watch him leave for a moment, and then I take off for the doors, stopping long enough at the information desk just inside them to ask where I need to go, before going straight to the elevators.
As soon as the doors open, I follow the signs leading to the ICU. A left, a right, and then I jump out of my skin when a lullaby starts playing over the speaker system, announcing the birth of a child.
With every life lost comes a new life gained, my brain says to me. I have to shake that thought out. Chase isn’t dead. He’s not.
“Allie!” Cody calls from a seat just to the side of the closed, handle-less doors.
“Where is he? I have to see him.”
“You can’t right now. They took him for scans and tests. They said they’d come get us when he’s back in there.”
“Then let me go to his room and wait.”
Cody shakes his head no. “You can’t go back there right now, Allie. This is a secured unit. They won’t let you in. Come sit with me. We’ll wait. He’ll be back soon.”
“I need to see my husband, please, just let me see him.” What little strength and hope I’d mustered up during my short flight and drive is dissipating by the second with the news I can’t see Chase. That I can’t check on him myself.
Cody walks up and wraps his arms around me. He holds me tight and mumbles into my hair, “I know you do. I know.”
I slip my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life, letting go of the dam that was holding back all my tears. I sob into his chest. My legs go weak. I feel like all the strength in me has been let out. Cody’s grip around me tightens and he holds me up, letting me cry against him.
Once I’ve stopped sobbing, and my body has stopped shaking, I ask him what I really need to know. “Wha-what’s wrong with him? What happened?”
“Come sit. I’ll explain all I can.”
He guides me over to two chairs with his and Chase’s bags in front of them. I look at Chase’s on the floor, and he says quietly, “They just dropped those off for us. I came here with him, left all my shit there. I’m sorry I missed your texts and calls. I wasn’t even thinking about my phone.”
I shake my head, hoping he understands I’m not mad about that. I pull Chase’s bag in front of me and run my fingers along the zipper.
“What happened, Cody?”
He lets out a deep breath and starts to explain, “He made his eight and went to let go, but his hand got caught, and then the bull bucked him. He was focused on his hand. He went ass to head to horns on the bull before he hit the ground, and then—” He stops speaking and closes his eyes, shaking his head. “The fighters tried to turn the bull, Allie, but he was hell-bent on getting to Chase. He reared up and came down right on Chase’s back.”
My hand flies to my mouth and fresh tears stream down my face. The only thought I have at this point is it sounds like there is a good chance I will be losing my husband.
“Is he going to live?” I risk glancing to Cody, even though I’m terrified the look on his face will say more than he will actually speak. There’s pain and fear there as he nods his head lightly.
“They think he will, yes. But Al, they aren’t sure he’ll be able to walk again. They don’t know for sure, he was unconscious when we got here. He hit his head somewhere in it all, too. There was a nasty gash there. They don’t even know if he’ll have swelling or bleeding in his head yet. They don’t have many answers at all.”
“What do they have, then?” I snap.
“They have the fact he’s alive. That’s what we have, too. We have to hold onto that.”
I nod once and rise from my seat, starting to pace back and forth across the small, quiet waiting room. Thoughts I can’t stop continue to fill my brain.
What if he’s paralyzed?
What if he has brain damage?
What if he never gets to tell the girls he loves them again?
What if I never get to hear him tell me?
Those and so many other thoughts like them keep rolling through my mind on a loop. The longer we wait, the worse they get, until I have to stop walking because it feels like I have a two-ton bull sitting on top of my chest, keeping me from drawing air into my lungs.
I brace my hands on my knees and hang my head, trying to catch my breath. The thoughts keep plaguing me though. And my ability to breathe gets harder and harder.
“Allie, stand up,” Cody commands, walking over to me.
“I-I can’t.” It’s all I can manage to get out as panic starts to set in. This can’t happen. My girls can’t lose both of us.
“Allie, stand up,” he says again, taking my hands off my knees and forcing me to stand up right. “Look at me.”
Each breath is a struggle. My hands are shaking. My heart is racing. But I try to do as he says, looking at him and trying to stay there.
“You’re having a panic attack. You need to try to breathe with me.”
I shake my head no. I can’t breathe. Doesn’t he understand that?
“Yes. Watch me. Breathe in when I do, and out when I do.”
Cody starts to breathe in and I watch him, wishing I could do that. But I can’t. I know I can’t.
“Allie, you need to breathe with me. Now.”
He takes in another breath and waits for me to do the same.
It hurts. It’s hard. But I can feel my chest start to expand outward as I watch his do the same.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now let it out, slowly. Then we’ll do it again.”
I exhale slowly and then breathe in with him again. His chest expanding just as slowly as the breath I take in. And then we exhale.
It’s getting easier. Maybe I’m not dying.
We continue to breathe, in and out, with my hands locked in Cody’s, until a short, brown-haired nurse with a pixie cut steps into the waiting room.
“Are you Mr. Canton’s family?” she asks.
Cody lets go of one of my hands, but keeps the other firmly in his grasp as we each turn to her.
“I’m his wife, this is…um, this is his brother.”
She gives a slight pity-filled smile. “Perfect, I need you to follow me. Mr. Canton is back in his room and his doctor would like to speak to you. His brother can wait here, if you’d like.”
I look from her to Cody and then back, shaking my head. “I want him with us. I need another set of ears.”
“Very well,” she says, “you two can follow me now.”
Cody puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “He’s going to be okay. You know Chase.”
We follow the nurse to the locked, handle-less double doors and watch as she swipes her badge over the reader, releasing the doors with a gentle click. “While your husband is here, anytime you want to get back here, press the doorbell on the wall just back there and give his name and room number. We will buzz you in from the desk.”
“Okay, thank you.” I look up at Cody and he gives me a nod, and we follow her through the doors.
Immediately to our left is a door indicating it’s a bathroom and shower, and to our right is the first patient room. It’s got a long, clear sliding door with curtains hanging just inside it, offering a little privacy to the otherwise very small room.
“If you’re staying here, and you need a shower, you can talk to Micha. She’s the key keeper.”
Her words hit me with the force of a bomb. Will we be here long enough that I’ll need to shower here?
“Mr. Canton is in room eighteen,” she says, as we continue to follow her.
It’s the wide-open doors that have my heart racing and palms going sweaty. In those rooms are people, young and old, hooked up to machines with tubes sticking out every which way, and family surrounding them.
Oh my God. Is that how Chase is going to look?
Cody looks into the same room I am and he holds on a little tighter, guiding me away and keeping up with our nameless tour guide.
“Ah, here it is. Room eighteen. Mr. Canton is in here. Dr. Montgomery will be right back with you. But it looks like his nurse, Breeze, is in with him now.”
“You aren’t his nurse?” I ask her.
“Oh, no ma’am, I’m a CNA on the floor. Maddie. I’ll be in and out if you need anything.”
“Oh. Okay.” I look up to Cody, brows drawn together in confusion, and he just shrugs.
Maddie smiles at us and pokes her head in. “Hey, Breeze, Mr. Canton’s wife and brother are here.”
“Fantastic,” I hear a voice say from inside the room. “Give me one second to check his catheter and then I’ll be right out.”
Maddie turns to us and smiles again. “She’ll only be a minute or two, you can wait right here for her.”
“Thank you, Maddie,” Cody says, giving her a tight, polite smile back.
She looks down and blushes a little then scurries off, and I look up at him, expecting to see him watching her move down the hall.
But he isn’t. He’s staring straight ahead, through the little crack in the door, fixated on the heavy curtain obstructing our view of Chase.
“No matter what we see, how he looks…” Cody whispers so quietly I have to angle my head so I can hear him better. “We have to be strong for him. I’ll do what I can for you, but he’s going to need us strong and fighting for him.”
I swallow past the lump his words just put in my throat and give him a little nod.
“Mrs. Canton, Mr. Canton?” the nurse says, as she steps past the curtain still hiding Chase from us.
“Cody, you can call me Cody.”
“And Allie, please,” I add.
“Cody and Allie, I’m Breeze. It’s nice to meet you both. Before I let you in to see Chase, I’m going to explain a few things to you.”
“Is he okay?” Cody asks right off the bat.
“Well, that’s a hard question to answer. He is stable right now, and that’s a good first step. But he’s by no means out of the woods. He is still unconscious. We’ve got IVs in place, we are monitoring his vitals, and we are keeping a close watch on the pressure in his brain.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, trying to make sense of everything.
“It just means that since he isn’t awake yet, and we can’t predict why or how long he will be unconscious, we want to make sure if any swelling or increase in pressure occur, we can get it taken care of as soon as possible.”
“So you’re not saying it will happen? It just could?” Cody clarifies.
“That’s correct. We are keeping an eye on it, but he could just as soon wake up as have it go the other way.”
That’s good news. It has to be. A small win. But I’m sure the other shoe is about to drop, because it’s in this moment I remember Cody saying they feared Chase may be paralyzed.
“But his back?” I ask, looking to her.
She lets out a small breath and nods. “His back is trickier, and his doctor will be speaking to you as soon as he’s able to get away from the patient he was called to in an emergency.”
“Can you give us any idea how bad it is?” Cody asks her, rubbing my arm gently as he speaks.
“Well, I can tell you he did suffer some bone fragmenting and there is swelling in his spinal cord. But beyond that, I really can’t comment on prognosis or what to expect going forward. Dr. Montgomery will absolutely be able to answer those questions better, though.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling dejected and fearful. There is so much wrong. He’s unconscious. His spinal cord is swelling. What else could be wrong?
“You can go in and see him. Maybe your voice will help rouse him a little. I must warn you with all of the tubes and machines, the tape, he will look different. It may even be scary. Just know those things don’t necessarily mean worst case, they’re all in place so we can monitor and help him get better.
“Is he—” I stop and take a deep breath of my own before continuing, “Is he breathing on his own?”
Breeze nods her head. “He is. That’s a positive sign, but we will continue to monitor that closely as well.”
I let out a little sigh of relief, and then take another breath in and open it when Breeze says, “You both can go in to see him now.”
We follow her beyond the sliding doors and past the curtain and I freeze in place, my hand flying to my mouth. “Oh my God,” I mumble into my hand. A fresh wave of tears hits me as I take my husband in.
He’s still. Too still. There’s a neck brace holding his head steady. And there’s a little wire coming out of his head, with evidence of a shaved patch around it. He’s got tubes coming out of his arms, and another coming out from beneath the blankets covering his legs, hanging over the side of the bed connecting to a bag filling with yellow fluid.
His hands are still at his sides.
His eyes are closed.
The strongest, most vibrant and virile man I know looks weak and broken. He has the face of my husband, but he’s not the Chase I’ve known for almost half my life now.
“Allie,” Cody whispers, making me look at him. The look on his face matches how I feel. He’s never seen Chase like this, either. “Come talk to him, it’s okay. Breeze said we should. And the doctor will be right in.”
I look back over my shoulder and Breeze is gone. I didn’t even notice her walk out. I didn’t hear her tell us to talk to him.
“Cody, he’s…”
“I know. He needs us right now. He needs you.”
I step up to his bedside, trying to push everything I see now aside to focus on the Chase I know. I take his hand in mine and it’s cold. Too cold. The weight of it is heavy between my fingers as I raise it up and kiss over his knuckles. The smell hits me hard. It smells like sweat and his leather glove still. They must not have washed it when they took his riding glove off.
“Hi, Cowboy,” I whisper. “I’m right here, and I won’t leave your side until you’re awake and tired of me hovering. Okay?” I stop to try to wipe my eye on the shoulder of my shirt and sniffle back more tears. “But you have to wake up. I need to hear you tell me you’re okay.”
“She’s right,” Cody adds. His voice is thick, chock-full of emotion. I don’t need to look up to know he’s crying, too. “We need you awake, brother. Who else is going to give me shit for not making my eight today?”
I laugh a little around my tears and then look up at Cody. “I’ll give you shit for other things. Who did you hook up with last night?”
Cody laughs, too, and he shakes his head. “No hooking up, I spent the night with him, talking.”
“Your bromance is so sweet,” I tease, then look back down at Chase. Even picking on Cody right now just doesn’t feel right without Chase’s input.
“Mrs. Canton, Mr…?” a deep voice interrupts us, and my thoughts. I look toward the door and see a man standing there. He’s wearing a white coat over the top of blue scrubs, and he still has his hair covered, but I can tell he’s older. Streaks of silver hair peek out from beneath his hat as he steps into the room.
“Yes?” I respond, angling my body toward him but keeping Chase’s hand between each of mine.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Montgomery. I’m the head of neurology here.”
“I’m Allie, please. And this is Cody.”
He gives each of us a tight nod and steps farther into the small room, stopping at t
he foot of Chase’s bed.
“How bad is it?” I ask him off the bat. I want to rip the Band-Aid off at once, because I know it’ll hurt less if we get it all out now, than if we go through small chunks of pain.
“Well,” he says, looking down at Chase. “We’ll work from the head down. Based on our preliminary tests, and based on the scans we’ve done, we are pretty sure Mr. Canton has a moderate TBI. We are monitoring his intracranial pressure because his CT scan showed a brain contusion, likely from contact he had with the bull during his fall, based on what we’ve seen and heard.”
“TBI?” Cody asks, and I’m grateful for it.
“Traumatic Brain Injury.”
Those are words you never, ever want to hear. TBI sounds so much better. Less scary. Not as serious.
“Does that mean he’s, he’s…” I close my mouth while I search for the right words, not knowing how best to ask what I need to know.
Doctor Montgomery shakes his head, seemingly understanding what I’m unable to say. “I have every hope he will wake up sooner than later. Right now, the pressure in his brain is where we want it to be, which means it isn’t swelling. He will likely have some memory loss, as is very common with these sorts of injury.”
“But you said it’s traumatic,” Cody interjects.
“I did,” Dr. Montgomery agrees. “An ordinary concussion is technically classified as a TBI, as well. But concussion is a far less scary word. It’s a much milder form of injury, and there are typically no worries it’ll get worse. With Mr. Canton, it could get worse. Given the circumstances surrounding his injury, over the next twenty-four hours, his pressure could increase, and we may need to take further steps to prevent brain damage.”
“But you don’t think that will happen?” I ask. My hands are clammy and damp over Chase’s now.
“I’m hopeful it won’t. But each person is different, and I can’t speak in guarantees. With any of your husband’s injuries.”
I nod my head, in understanding, and trying to clear the web of thoughts forming. “What else is wrong?”
“He’s got a vertebral injury, and we also fear he’s got a spinal cord injury.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, holding my breath.
Hold on Tight (Cowboys & Angels Book 1) Page 17
