“Ain’t she already in a coma?”
“Technically, yes. But putting her in a medically induced coma gives us control—not her body—and with the drugs we can bring her out of it at our discretion. It also allows time for the brain swelling to decrease, which hopefully will limit the amount of permanent damage to the brain tissue.”
“This isn’t an experimental procedure? You do this all the time?”
Dr. Vincent nodded. “It’s the best possible way to deal with the altered metabolism in the brain that’s caused by injury. With pharmaceuticals we can keep the brain from shutting down and maintain other important body functions. But that also means your wife will be on medication to keep her heart pumping and medication to keep her blood pressure steady. Plus we’ll put her on a respirator to mechanically control her respiration rate.”
Dr. McMillan rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer. “We’ll keep her chemically sedated only as long as we have to. There are other risk factors with this treatment. Pneumonia and blood clots being at the top of the list—muscle paralysis is a possibility too.”
Carson’s head spun. He had to remind himself they were talking about Carolyn, the woman he loved, being hooked up to all sorts of nasty machines with chemicals being pumped into her body.
“We’ve conferred with our colleagues at the neurosciences department at Denver General Hospital—getting a second and third opinion—and they’ve agreed our proposed treatment has the best chance of success. If you agree we’ll need to get this underway immediately.”
“Is there another option?”
“If we do nothing there’s a chance—albeit an infinitesimal one—that her body will spontaneously heal.”
“Or she might never…” Recover. Carson closed his eyes. No f**king way. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—accept that.
“Is there someone else you need to discuss this with before making a decision?”
He thought of his kids. Carolyn was their mother, but she was his wife—his entire damn life—so this decision rested solely on his shoulders. “No. Go ahead and treat her.” He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. “How long will she be…?”
“A minimum of five days. Most likely a week to ten days. Since she has an open wound on the back of her head and the brain used it as a conduit to try and dump excess fluid, the risk of infection is extremely high—much higher than normal. As soon as we have your consent, we’ll dress the wound and put her in a sterile environment.”
The docs exchanged another look.
“What aren’t you tellin’ me?”
“After she’s hooked up to the respirator and EEG, we’ll move her to ICU. Visitation will be limited.”
His eyes narrowed. “How limited?”
“We’ll allow…five minutes an hour.”
“That time is allotted for other family members. Not for me, right?”
Dr. McMillan shook his head. “That includes you. To be completely honest, we’re mandating no visitors for the first twenty-four hours as we’re adjusting her medication levels and when the risk of infection is highest. I cannot emphasize this enough. Your wife is highly susceptible to infection.”
“Make no mistake; I ain’t leavin’ her side even in the twenty-four hours she don’t know I’m here. I may only get five minutes an hour with her, but the other fifty-five minutes of the day I will be right outside her door.”
“Mr. McKay, I’m not sure—”
“I am one hundred percent sure that I will not leave my wife alone in this state. If that’s gonna be a problem for you, say so now.”
“As long as you know the only reason we’re putting these restrictions on visitation is to protect her.”
Carson nodded. Then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Other questions?”
“Not right now, I’m still tryin’ to get a handle on all this.”
“Understood. It’s a lot to process. We have work to do, to get the treatment started.”
And he had nothing to do but sit around and wait.
“Mr. McKay?”
Carson glanced up at the nurse. “Yes?”
“Your wife has been moved to ICU.”
He pushed to his feet. “Any change in her?”
“I don’t know. I’m only passing along the information about the room change.”
“Thank you.”
The young nurse—her nametag read Lissa—waited for him by the door. “I’ll take you to where your family is waiting.”
Any time before when he’d had to deal with hospital visits or waiting around for any kind of news, he’d had Carolyn as his buffer. As his rock. When it’d been a prolonged wait, like when they were holed up waiting to hear word on Cam when he’d gone missing, they’d taken turns bolstering each other. Always in private. Not because he’d been ashamed of his fear and grief, but because he’d never had to explain it to her. Or she to him. They just understood each other on a level that defied logic.
Carson said, “It’d be a huge favor if you were there as I explain the situation because they ain’t gonna like it.”
“Of course.”
They rode the elevator from the second floor to the main level.
How was he supposed to deal with his kids’ upset over the situation when he hadn’t figured out a way to deal with his own yet? Especially when in doing the only thing he could to protect her, he’d piss off his kids and Carolyn’s sister by enforcing the “no visitation” rule.
She’d do it for you. If your life was on the line you can bet your ass she’d bar the damn door without apology.
But his sweet, wonderful Carolyn could get away with that. His kids would just think he was being an ass**le, because he’d been that man more than a few times over the years.
Carson paused outside the waiting room, taking stock of his family.
Cord paced. Colby sat in the corner with his head resting against the wall. Colt stared out the window. Cam studied the carpet. Carter twisted and untwisted a magazine between his hands. Keely prowled the perimeter. Carson’s brother Charlie watched TV, his wife Vi by his side. Carolyn’s sister Kimi sat beside his brother Cal.
Keely’s head snapped up. Then she was throwing herself into his arms. “Daddy! What happened? No one will tell us anything besides Mama’s been admitted. Please tell me she’s okay. Please.”