by M. D. Thomas
“The ambulance is almost here, Lee. Hold on, buddy. Just another minute. Hold on… ”
Sarah’s screams had never really stopped as she tried to get free of her seatbelt, but they changed pitch as she fell to the ceiling just as Jon had and then struggled out of the car.
“Over here!” Jon called out, and she lurched upright and stumbled toward them.
Her screams changed to a wail as she fell to her knees on the other side of Lee and moved to pick him up.
“No,” Jon said, reaching out to stop her. “If his neck or back are hurt you could make it worse.”
Sarah brushed him aside, scooped Lee up and rocked him into her arms, still wailing. She had one arm under his neck, but his head flopped.
She made it to her feet despite Lee’s weight, stumbled up toward the road and the sound of approaching sirens. She passed the car, struggled to make it up the slope until Jon fell in beside her and kept her from falling, from dropping Lee, pushing her up the hill as much as he dared. They were almost to the top when Jon felt a puff of cool air brush past him in the darkness. Sarah’s hair fluttered in the moonlight.
Calm, Jon. Be calm…
They cleared the shoulder of the road just as flashing lights came into view in the distance, the wail of the sirens piercing the night.
Two
SARAH
She couldn’t remember the last time Lee’s face had been so calm, so placid. Her Lee was always so animated, always smiling or frowning or scowling at whatever in the world had gathered in his attention for that moment of the day. Usually baseball. But in the back of the speeding ambulance he looked so—
—no. Not dead. He’s not dead and he’s not going to be…
The ambulance had stopped before them on the road, blinding her with its lights, the sirens deafening. Less than two minutes later they were in the back, Lee strapped to the gurney, his spine immobilized by a strap across his forehead. The right side of his head was a bloody confusion of hair, torn skin, and dirt. She couldn’t look at the injury for long, afraid she would lose her mind.
Her head throbbed and she felt woozy, but she gripped his hand, held on as if letting go would be the end of him.
…he won’t die… he won’t, he can’t…
“You can’t let him die, do you hear me?” she shrieked at the paramedics who hovered over him, poking and prodding, inserting needles and fluids, measuring pulses and pressures, monitoring his breathing. One of them bumped into her arm but didn’t ask her to let go of Lee’s hand. She wouldn’t have anyway. Nothing would take her from him or him from her. Not her Lee. Nothing.
The ambulance drove to INOVA Fairfax in Falls Church, a run of less than ten minutes from where they’d been hit on the Accotink Parkway.
If only Jon hadn’t turned. If he’d stayed on the main road we wouldn’t be here right now. My son wouldn’t be unconscious, his head a bloody mess…
The paramedics threw open the rear doors as soon as they halted in the ambulance bay, pulled the gurney out, then hurried toward the entrance. Sarah followed alongside, holding onto Lee’s hand. The medic in front waved a security card over a sensor and the sliding doors parted to reveal a wide hallway, occupied by a few people who started moving as soon as they entered. One of them—a tall, wiry woman with her long red hair in a ponytail—intercepted Sarah as the medics steered the gurney through another set of double doors.
“Ma’am, you need to come with me, okay?” the woman said as she put a freckled hand on Sarah’s arm.
“I have to stay with my son,” Sarah said without stopping.
“I understand, Ma’am,” the woman said, gripping Sarah’s arm harder and peeling her away from the gurney, “but if you want your son to get the care he needs, the staff has to be able to focus on him and they can’t do that if you’re in the room.”
“I’ll be quiet, I promise,” Sarah said as she tried to pull away. The inside of the room was full of people and equipment, all centered around a large, overhead light that shone down on an empty hospital bed. The ambulance gurney was wheeled next to the hospital bed and Lee was quickly transferred, people already cutting away his clothes and shouting orders. “Just please don’t take him away from me.”
The woman grabbed Sarah’s upper arm with her other hand and started dragging her away. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, you can’t. Besides, you’re injured too, so you have to be checked out as well.”
“I’m fine,” Sarah said as she tried to break free. But the woman had an iron grip and she pulled Sarah out of the trauma bay and back into the hallway. “I love you, Lee!” she screamed as the doors closed away the sight of her son.
Sarah fell to her knees, sobs wracking her body. My baby… how did this happen to my baby?
“How long until I can leave?”
The short Latina nurse sighed. “It all depends on how quickly we can get your CT scan done, Mrs. Young. Maybe an hour if everything goes well. We haven’t been too busy tonight, but that can change in a heartbeat.”
“Have you heard anything else about my son?”
“No, Mrs. Young. As I told you before, he could be in surgery for hours. I’ll try to find out more when I’m done checking you in. Assuming you’re fine, I’m sure we can get you over to the surgery wing before the doctors are done operating.”
Doctors. It’s so bad he needed more than one of them. He could be dead already. My son, dead on some cold operating table…
No! He’s not dead! He’s not. They would’ve told me…
The nurse looked up from what she was doing, a slight smile on her lips. “I almost forgot. Your husband is just down the hall getting the laceration on his head sewn up. He’ll probably need a CT scan as well, but for now he seems to be fine.”
She couldn’t think about Jon. Not when Lee was alone somewhere in the hospital with a bunch of people trying to put him back together. Just thinking of her Lee on a surgery table under bright lights made Sarah feel like she might faint.
So she tried again to piece together what had happened. What confused her the most was how Lee had come free of his seatbelt.
Did he take it off and I didn’t notice?
Surely he’d begun the trip with it on. Had he come free somehow anyway? She tried to remember if the seatbelt had still been buckled after the accident, but in her memories they were driving along the Accotink Parkway one moment and the next she was walking down the roadway with her son’s limp body cradled in her arms, the ambulance and police lights flashing as they approached. The emergency physician had told her their car was hit and then rolled over, but she had no recollection of it.
Maybe Jon knows. Maybe he saw whether the seat belt was still buckled or not. But did he even check Lee’s seat belt? That was his side of the car. He should’ve checked…
An hour and a half later her CT scan came back negative for any internal bleeding and they cleared her. She ran through the hospital to the surgery wing, was panting and dizzy by the time she reached the family waiting area. The reception desk was staffed by a young man.
He looked up when she approached and cocked his curly head to the side, lips parting to reveal teeth that were too white. “May I help you?”
“My name is Sarah Young. My son Lee is in surgery and I’m trying to find out how he’s doing?”
“Hi, Mrs. Young,” he said. “My name is Benton.” He stood and offered his hand and after they shook he remained on his feet. “I’ve been expecting you. Your son is still in surgery right now, but I’ll let the staff know you’ve arrived and see if someone can update you on his condition. In the meantime, it would help me tremendously if you could fill out some paperwork. Is that ok?”
He’s been in surgery a long time… that can’t be good…
“Paperwork?” she said, trying to ignore her thoughts, trying to decide if he’d actually told her anything that mattered.
“Just basic stuff, Ma’am. Insurance coverage, your son’s medical history, drug allergies. Nothing unusual. I know
it’s the last thing you want to deal with, but better we get it done now before the surgery is over. You won’t want to leave your son’s side to do paperwork later.”
She wanted to reach across the desk and shake the man. “Can you tell me anything about how he’s doing?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask if he would live.
Benton held up empty hands, his face apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Young. I know the uncertainty is hard to deal with, but I really don’t know any more than you do at this point. We just have to wait I’m afraid.”
He’s just too scared to tell you what’s happened…
Benton picked up a clipboard as he walked out from behind the desk and then escorted Sarah down the hallway to a small waiting room. He opened the door and held it for her, handed her the clipboard which held a thick sheaf of papers to be filled out. “Make sure you sign everywhere that’s highlighted in yellow.”
Was there a click from the back seat before we left the ball field?
She couldn’t remember. Nothing to do with the accident, she just hadn’t been paying attention because Lee was on Jon’s side of the car.
Jon’s side.
Maybe he put the seat belt on and then took it off. Maybe he dropped his ball and couldn’t stretch far enough to reach it…
Except that Lee never dropped the ball.
You’ve got to let it go… it doesn’t matter…
But was there a click?
“Mrs. Young?”
Sarah twitched and looked at the door. The man wore navy scrubs above brown clogs. He was a little older than Sarah and handsome, his hair jet black and wavy, his eyes dark.
“I’m Dr. Takeda, your son’s surgeon,” he said as he entered the room and took a seat caddy-corner to hers before she could stand.
He held out a hand and she took it, his flesh warm and strong. He oozed that air of confidence every surgeon possessed. If the doctor expected her to speak, he didn’t let on, no doubt used to such a situation. He let go of her hand but remained close, leaning toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. “The most important news I have for you is that your son has been stabilized. He didn’t lose much blood, he never had any cardiac or respiration issues, and his spinal column wasn’t injured. However, he did sustain severe trauma to the right side of his head. His brain is swelling due to the injury, which can be dangerous. Because of that we had to perform a decompressive craniectomy, which just means we removed a piece of his skull so that his brain could expand without causing more damage. We placed the skull fragment in a pouch in his abdomen, between the muscle and fat. The bone cells will be kept alive that way, will stay sterile, and will make for a better cosmetic result when it’s reimplanted later.”
“A piece of his skull?” Sarah felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. “What does that even mean? Is he awake?”
Dr. Takeda shook his head, his hair momentarily catching the overhead lights. “He isn’t awake right now. The best treatment in a case like this is to place the patient in a drug-induced coma to increase the chances for a full recovery. He seems to be breathing okay on his own, but while he’s on the drugs he might not be able to swallow safely or protect his airway, so we put an endotracheal tube in his mouth that will be attached to a ventilator just in case he needs help breathing. We also put in a nasogastric tube to keep him fed and hydrated. When the worst of the swelling is gone, we can stop giving him the drugs, try to get him off the ventilator, and hopefully he’ll wake on his own. However, he may not. You can never tell with injuries like these.”
Sarah could only find one word to latch onto. “Hopefully?”
Dr. Takeda nodded, his lips pursed. “It’s possible he could be in a coma for some period of time.”
“How long?”
Dr. Takeda had the grace to look contrite. “There’s no way to know, Mrs. Young. He might wake up right away. He might be in a coma for a week. Possibly a month. All I can tell you is that most patients with these kinds of injuries wake up within three months.”
“Three months?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Dr. Takeda said. His gaze never wavered.
Three months.
Most patients.
She tried to wrap her mind around that and failed.
Dr. Takeda’s voice was compassionate. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Mrs. Young. For now what you need to focus on is that your son is stable. That’s the most important thing. If everything goes well, he’ll begin to improve soon. Regardless of what happens, he’ll need your support. All of it. Is that something you think you can do?”
Dr. Takeda looked expectant, but Sarah struggled to answer. She was still trying to digest what he’d said. “Yes. Yes, I can do that.”
“Good,” Dr. Takeda said. He reached out, put a hand on her shoulder that she assumed was supposed to be reassuring. “I know this is hard, Mrs. Young. Just take it day to day. Moment to moment. Okay?”
Sarah couldn’t speak, so she only nodded.
Three
JON
Jon stood in the middle of the Accotink Parkway and watched the ambulance doors close on Sarah and Lee, the darkness around him disrupted by the blinding lights of the emergency vehicles. They disappeared from sight and the terrible feeling spread through him that his existence had reached its zenith, that everything from that moment forward would happen to a lesser man, to a lesser life.
She didn’t even ask if I could come with them…
…she’s focused on Lee. That’s how it should be.
Calm…
“Let’s get you on the gurney, sir,” a voice said beside him. In the dark he hadn’t even noticed the approach of one of the paramedics. “Your head got pretty banged up and we need to get you to the hospital to make sure you’re okay.”
Calm…
Jon nodded and let the man steer him toward the remaining ambulance, whose doors stood open. The stark, cluttered interior was a bright square of light shining out into the darkness. As Jon and the paramedic approached, a police officer angled out of the shadows to intercept them.
The policeman was tall and muscular, with a thick, impressive mustache. Jon, whose own facial hair came in as thin and scraggly as the hairs on a rat’s tail, stared at the dark slash that hid the man’s upper lip and tried to convince himself that he would see his son alive again.
“How’s he doing?” The officer addressed the paramedic, but his eyes returned to Jon, considering what he saw.
“Hard to tell yet,” the paramedic said as he helped Jon sit on the rear of the ambulance. “Concussion probably. But with that much blood on his head he’ll need a scan to make sure he doesn’t have any internal bleeding. No choice but to take him in.”
“Sir,” the officer said, “can I get your name before they take you to the hospital?”
“Lee Jun-Young.”
The officer sighed. “I could guess, but I won’t. Can you spell that for me, sir?”
Jon opened his mouth then stopped. He hadn’t made that mistake in a long time. He raised a hand to his head, but the paramedic intercepted it and returned it firmly to his lap.
Calm… “I’m sorry. My name is Jon Young.”
The officer exchanged a glance with the paramedic, who’d taken out a small flashlight and was shining it in Jon’s eyes. “Which is it, sir?”
“Jon Young. My father Americanized his name when he immigrated. We only spoke English at home, but he always called me Jun-Young.”
“You live in Koreatown?” the officer asked.
Jon started to shake his head then stopped as the throbbing in his skull redoubled. “No. Grew up there.”
The officer nodded. “Can I please get your home address and your phone number, Mr. Young? We’ll need to talk to you about what happened, but it’ll have to wait until you’ve been cleared at the hospital. An officer will be in touch with you as soon as possible. ”
Jon recited the information as his mind replayed the sight of Lee on the ground, his head a mess of matted blood and hai
r. His seatbelt was on when we left the baseball field. I’m sure of it…
…are you though?
His thoughts were still muddled, but he remembered getting in the car because Lee had been babbling about that hit he’d gotten, that three-run homer over the right field fence. Lee couldn’t stop talking about it, had been bouncing around the back seat until Sarah had told him to quiet down and get his seat belt on so that they could get home before it was too far past his normal bedtime.
Sarah told him to get his seat belt on. He grabbed it and I closed the door…
He hadn’t waited to see if Lee buckled it. Had Lee, so excited by the home run, let go of the seat belt and never buckled it? Or had Lee put it on and then taken it off again later? Jon tried to recall if he’d heard the telltale click, but there was a gap in his memory—the next thing he remembered was hearing the woman’s voice outside the shattered window.
“Let’s get you on the gurney, Mr. Young,” the paramedic said as the officer walked away. “You’re still bleeding and we need to get you to the hospital.”
Another paramedic appeared out of the flashing darkness, a young woman with her hair cut short and shaved on the sides, with tattoos on her neck that made him think of the woman surrounded by light. The paramedics helped him into the back of the ambulance, each with a hand under one of his armpits, made him lie down on the gurney.
“We done here?” the female paramedic asked, one hand on one rear door.
“Yeah,” the male paramedic said, who’d sat on Jon’s left and was searching the drawers built into the walls of the ambulance. “The other two are already en route.”
The female paramedic closed the doors, shouted that all was clear, and sat across from her coworker as the ambulance started moving.
