The Conduit The Gryphon Series - By Stacey Rourke Page 0,61
there long when a short, balding gentleman in bright blue scrubs strolled in.
“The Garrett Family?” He said directly to us. We were the only people with the misfortune of being in the ICU waiting room at the moment. We rose in unison as he approached.
“I’m Dr. Allen.” He extended his hand to each of us. “I’ve been treating your grandmother. She is your grandmother, correct?” We all nodded in agreement.
“How is she?” Gabe shoved his fidgety hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts.
Dr. Allen’s face gave nothing away. No shadow of sadness, no glimmer of hope in his eyes, nothing but a strong expression of knowledge and understanding. “Your grandmother has been through quite an ordeal, but we were able to get her stabilized. To start with, she had numerous abrasions to her face and torso that had to be stitched up. Her right arm was broken in two locations. Both were clean breaks, so we set them and they should heal nicely. With her age, she may require some physical therapy to retain full mobility of that limb. The biggest concern right now is from the blunt force trauma to her head. Very likely she has some swelling to her brain. We don’t yet know the severity of it. We performed a spinal tap and a CAT scan to get some solid answers. She’s conscious now, which is a good sign. But we won’t know exactly where we stand until we get the tests back. Right now things could still turn on a dime.”
“What are the best and worst case scenarios?” I inquired crossing my fingers behind my back that the word “death” didn’t come out of his mouth.
“There are numerous outcomes all having to do with the severity of her injury.” Dr. Allen explained. “If the swelling is minimal, she could just have a mild concussion and nothing more. Obviously, that’s what we’re hoping for. If the pressure on her brain is at a moderate level, she could have problems with her memory. She may have difficulty with her speech, walking, hand to eye coordination, things of that nature. With a high level of swelling, she’s at risk of slipping into a comatose state. There are measures we can take to try to alleviate the pressure. But it would become imperative we get it under control.”
“When will we know more?” Kendall’s voice cracked.
The doctor laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I put a rush on the results, so it shouldn’t be long. The minute I know something I’ll report back to you. You let me do the worrying about her, okay? After all, it is my job.” His warm smile reminded me of my grandfather, which made it only seem right that he was looking after our Grams.
“Can we see her?” Kendall asked, her eyes red rimmed and teary.
“I’ll let one of you go in.” The doctor’s eyes shifted between us. “Just for a little while. Then she needs to rest.”
“Who should go?” I asked.
“You.” Gabe and Kendall answered in perfect unison.
“Why me?”
“Because Kendall won’t be able to control certain impulses,” Gabe said with the raise of his eyebrow to express his hidden meaning. “And I…don’t handle stuff like this well.”
“Okay.”
I followed the doctor down the brightly lit hall to a private room with the door shut.
“This is her room. Go on in. I’ll give you two some privacy.” He gave me the compassionate doctor face again, then turned and strode to the nurses’ station. I took a deep breath before I pushed the door open.
I gasped at the battered and bruised version of my much—adored Grams lying on the hospital bed. Deep black and purple bruises covered every inch of exposed skin. Stitches held together a wound on her cheek and another on her forearm. The opposite arm was wrapped from wrist to shoulder in a heavy cast. Tubes and cords plugged into her all over. She looked aged, frail and not at all like my spry, feisty grandmother. Barnabus would pay for this. He could count on that.
I hesitated at the door. She seemed to have gone back to sleep. I didn’t want to wake her. I thought about going back to the waiting room and letting her rest. Before I had come to a decision her sleepy eyes fluttered open.
“Celeste,” she rasped in a drowsy, medicated voice.
I put on a big, reassuring smile and approached the side of her bed. “Hey there. How are you feeling?”