First Few ICU Days

 Now that I have alone time for the first time in 20 years, I have time to write all the thoughts that clutter my warped little head. While I'm in Florida I decided to work on something other than just my tan.  Below you will find my thoughts from those first couple of ICU days. As much as I hate to remember,  it is important that I do, especially when I feel the road ahead is just too long for me to take another step, its good to look back and see how far we have come. Please excuse some of the language as I want to be true to how I actually felt.

That dreaded phone call on April 19^th 2013.  I WAS SUCKER PUNCHED. I was driving down highway 40 and listening to a promotional video newly posted on facebook on my phone about an upcoming Club Med Fan vacation for Rick Springfield. (I know I’m weird) My video was interrupted by a phone call that came across as  Private Number. I’m not sure what made me answer as I normally wouldn’t answer a call that was Private but on that day, I did answer. I often wish I had never answered the call. Logically I realize the phone call wasn’t the issue, it was the accident. To me it all started with the call. What if I wouldn’t have answered? My perfect world would still be in tact. But I did answer, and my perfect world fell apart.

I arrived in LA well past midnight. The flight was awful; I couldn’t get there fast enough. We flew into Chicago first. I remember standing at a phone charging station in Chicago surrounded by several people when I received yet another call that was a Private Number. This time it was my pastor, a close friend had called him and let him know about the accident. He asked what had happened and I explained as best as I could in between sobs. I had just found out before we boarded the plane in St. Louis that Lauren had a portion of her brain removed. My obvious question was “will she be able to live a normal life?” They could not give me an answer. At this point our main focus was to try and get her severely damaged brain to stop swelling. I am sure I was quite the sight to the other travelers sharing this phone charging station. I believe we said a couple of prayers together over the phone. It was not a very long conversation and he let me know that Lauren would be in his constant prayers.  We boarded the plane shortly after that and were able to get updates via email from  my oldest daughter Sam. She was in direct contact with Lauren’s nurse. By this time word had gotten out via social media. My facebook as well as email were beginning to blow up with messages. I read them all but could not bring myself to respond, I was still in shock.....or was it denial?

I knew how severe her injuries were after talking to the social worker at the hospital. I was fully aware that her chances of living were very slim. Even though I explained the severity of her injuries, I don’t think Dave really knew how grave her condition was. On the plane I was actually preparing for the worst. My mind was wandering and I was mentally preparing her funeral complete with whom I should ask to be her pallbearers. Who does that? I am still angry with myself for not staying positive. The family sitting behind us was going to Disney Land. The kid was so excited he couldn’t stop talking about it. Normally I would think that was really cute, that day I was less than amused and was ready to throw the kid out the emergency exit.

One we got our rental car we were headed to the hospital. We had about a 30-minute drive. I don’t know how Dave was even able to drive because I was struggling with the simple act of breathing. The charge nurse asked me to call her when we arrived so she could walk us up to the unit. She actually met us in the parking lot. I thought wow; this place really treats their patient’s families well. I was so stupid… the reality was because Lauren was so critical. I can’t remember the charge nurses name but I will never forget her face or her warmth. She had a crazy Afro, I don’t even know if you could call it an Afro, it had many different sections sticking up in every direction. What I remember most was her kindness. (Then I remember that crazy hair. )We had to sign in at the desk in the lobby of the “Saperstein Critical Care Tower”. I remember her telling the guard that we were the parents of foxtrot followed by a series of numbers. I guess Foxtrot is a better name than Jane Doe. “Is this really happening?”  My daughter is registered as a Jane Doe AKA Foxtrot? 

We passed several signs on the way  to the lobby that directed us, each time I read the words “Critical Care Tower” I felt a little piece of my heart dying. The charge nurse tried to make small talk the whole way to the tower, we were all eerily quiet and somber.

Once we arrived to the correct building, we got on the elevator to head up to the neuro unit. The elevator stopped on every floor. Something about Saturday being the Sabbath.(We were at a Jewish hospital) Seriously…every floor, I needed to get to my kid. I believe the neuro unit was on the 10^th or 11^th floor. I remember stopping at every floor and thinking, “Don’t they have a Catholic elevator?”

I will never forget the look of sorrow on the faces of the staff as we walked down that hall for the first time toward Laurens room. Once we arrived in her room there was no turning back. This could no longer be a bad dream or a sick joke. This was real life and my girl was in trouble. Lauren was pretty much unrecognizable. Tubes everywhere, a big plastic neck collar to make sure there were no spine fractures, bags of fluid going in, bags of fluids going out.

Her nurse Bridget immediately started explaining all the monitors and what the numbers meant, heart rate, breaths per minute, ICP (Inter Cranial Pressure) etc. I think she was just trying to fill the time as she was waiting for the resident on call to answer his page so he can deliver the rest of the bad news to us.

The doctor arrived shortly after we did and very somberly and matter of factly let us know how serious her injuries were. He stated that she had severe head trauma and “IF” she lived, we were looking at months and months of recovery, possibly even years. He ended his flowery little speech informing us that she was the sickest patient in the whole hospital. Well thanks for that asshole!

While the doctor was talking, Dave felt faint and had to sit in a chair. That was the exact moment that I saw my rock of a husband crumble. I was helpless; there was nothing I could do for either of them.

The first two days were filled with nothing but grief and despair. All I could do is pray and cry. I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t sleep. I was so nauseous. Mainly because I hadn’t eaten or slept but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other than cry. My private conversations with God were pretty dark and desperate in those days. I couldn’t help shaking the feeling that somehow I caused this? Why is it that as mothers we blame ourselves for all the bad things that happen to our kids but don’t take credit for the good things?

Lauren’s roommate Courtney arrived on that Sunday. Her first plane was grounded due to storms in NYC. She was the breath of fresh air that we needed. She walked in with her positive attitude and filled that dark room with light.

 Lauren’s brain swelling was still a big concern. I knew that if her pupils were “blown” that she was essentially brain dead. Due to her continued brain swelling, this was a possibility that we had to face. They checked her pupils on a regular basis with a little pen flashlight. Each and every time they checked her pupils it was if my heart was being squeezed by a boa constrictor covered in thorns. I was absolutely terrified; I wasn’t ready to let my baby girl die. The little flashlight pen they were using had a bad connection. They had to keep shaking it or tapping it on the palm of their hand to get it to work. I wanted to scream, “For Gods sake, get a different fucking flashlight.” Instead I just sat in the corner quietly, terrified of what they may find.