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 19th 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 10th
or 11th 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.
