She Don't Got a Lot to Say - Book Excerpt 3

“What do you think of this green Jeep Wrangler, David?”  My dad says as we peruse through the car dealership on Wadsworth.  It’s just after nine am, and the sun is starting to bounce heatwaves off concrete in the mile-high city.

            I had dropped my girlfriend, Kaitlyn, off at her promotional gig earlier in the morning.  Things were going great in our relationship.  A couple months ago I got to meet her parents in Oregon and am considering proposing soon. But the time hasn’t seemed right yet, and it must be perfect.

So here we are, shopping for a new car.  The salesman is running back to the office for keys to give us a test drive when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.  Looking to see who is calling, I don't recognize the number and it’s out of state.  I hesitate to answer but decide I might as well.

“Hello,”  I say in my usual optimistic tone.

“Hi, David, this is Kaitlyn’s Dad, Wayne.”  He says with a serious voice.  “Kaitlyn has been in a car accident.”

“That’s impossible! I just dropped her off at work a couple hours ago.  She doesn’t even have a car.  Is this a joke?”  I reply, with shock beginning to register on my face.

“This is not a joke,”  Wayne replies.  “She is at the big hospital in Denver.  Can you get to the hospital and be with her until Alison and I can get there?

“Of course,”  I reply as if called to duty.

“How long will it take you to get to her?”  Wayne says as I mouth to my dad “we have to leave, now.”

“No more than twenty minutes,” I respond.  My body begins shaking as if an earthquake is sending seismic waves from my heart.

“Thank you, David,” Wayne says, his voice cracking.  “Call us when you get to her.”  

We hang up.  There are so many questions on my dad's face, he knows something serious has happened and follows my lead.   We both move swiftly to the car.

“Kat's been in an accident,” I say, feeling jarred into an alternate reality.  

My hands are shaking as I reach for the car door.  I climb in on the passenger side; with fear and confusion colliding inside me.  I think we both know, without saying, that in an instant everything has changed.

“Where do we need to go?”  My Dad asks directly.

“Denver Health," I say in shock. My whole body trembles as I try to process what is going on.

“Why don’t we say a prayer for Kaitlyn?”  My dad says, as if in offering. 

"Sure,"  I respond, emotions fizzing through my veins.

"God, we lift up Kaitlyn and her family into your arms.  We pray for her well-being and that her mom and dad can make it here safe."

My dad's words soften the silence. But anxiety still hangs in the air like a fog is a loft.  I've been trying to quit smoking, but a cigarette seems like the only thing that could suspend my anxiety.  My bones rattle with fear for this woman I love.  My dad keeps asking questions and offers words of encouragement.  But I don't really want to talk.

We pull up to the hospital and I hop out.  

“Go find Kaitlyn while I get parking,” my dad says.  

I run through the automatic sliding doors and to the front desk.

"Where Kaitlyn Stoll?"  I ask assertedly.

The clerk tells me she is in surgery and I have to wait.  This is the worst suspense of my life.

I sit down in the waiting room and call Wayne and Alison.  

"We made it to the hospital," I tell Wayne.  "She is in surgery right now, but I will call you when I see her."

"Thank you, David.  This means a lot."  Wayne replies emotionally.

Just after I hang up, my dad finds me in the waiting room.  He sits down next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't understand,"  I say to my dad, with tears gathering.

"Well, all we can really do at this point is pray."  My dad says heavily. 

After over half an hour of waiting, a woman comes up to me.  

“Hi sir,” she says.  “My name is Mary and I am a chaplain here at Denver Health.  Are you here to see Kaitlyn?”

“Yes,” I reply, anxiously.  “Is she out of surgery?  Can I see her?”  My throat tightens and chest feels heavy.

“I know this is a really difficult time.  May I ask what your relation to her is?”  Mary inquires.

“She is my girlfriend,”  I say with tears pooling in my eyes.

“They usually only allow family to see patients,”  Mary says

“I'm going to marry this girl,”  I say with salty tears dripping from my face, beginning to soak my shirt.  “She has no family here.  They are flying in tonight.  Please let me be with her.”

“Okay," she says.  "Follow me."

The hospital lights are almost blinding as we make our way down the sterile hallway.  People are bustling back and forth and monitors are beeping everywhere.

As we walk into the room, I feel paralyzed when I see her.  But I rush to the bedside.  She is unconscious with fifteen tubes jutting in and out of her body. Supported on a breathing tube, with a neck brace, and full arm cast, I kiss her forehead.  Her skin is warm on my lips and a couple of my tears splash on her cheek.  I just want to help her.  

Mary offers a few words of encouragement, and after a prayer leaves the room.  I pull up a chair to her bedside and sit.

            Nurses and doctors pour in and out of checking vitals and discussing protocols.  Noises overwhelm this place in the cacophony of hospitals: The steady BEEP BEEP BEEP of a heart rate monitor, the hiss of oxygen from the ventilator, the repetitive puffs from a blood pressure machine, and countless other sounds I cannot identify.

I decide to call Kaitlyn’s parents to let them know I am by her side as if I can offer an infinitesimal amount of relief.  She is alive.  They tell me their flight will be in around 7 pm that night.

While waiting, my own mom, dad, sister, and brother-in-law visit the hospital for support.  

After many prayers, songs, and conversations about life and death with my family, Kaitlyn’s parents arrive.  It's around 8 pm, which is past visiting hours for the Intensive Care Unit. But the nurses make an exception and allow Wayne, Alison, and me into the room.  

We walk in and Alison rushes to her side.

"Mom and Dad are here, Kaitlyn.  We love you and are here with you."  Alison says softly, her voice cracking as tears fall like rain.

Wayne gently cups her right hand.

"She will get through this,"  I say to her parents confidently.  "Kaitlyn is strong, and I know she will be okay."

They look at me and each other and all of our eyes shift to the monitors all around.

A doctor steps in the room.  "Hi, you must be Kaitlyn’s parents, I'm Doctor Radley, Kaitlyn's neurosurgeon."  

We all shake hands, and he continues.

"Her vitals are fluctuating drastically.  Her brain pressure is steadily increasing, along with her temperature.  We have to give her some specialized treatments and medications." 

"We trust you will give her the best care possible," Wayne says hopefully.

         A nurse asks us to say goodbye and leave, so Wayne and Alison kiss her forehead and say a prayer. Then I walk to her bed, with tears dripping and I swallow deeply.   I remember that she would always ask me to sing to her, so I begin. ”There you see her, sitting there across the way, she don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her.  And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try, you’ve got to kiss the girl.”

And suddenly, her brain pressure begins descending.