Liam shows up in the middle of the night. I’m asleep on a fold-out chair, next to Natalie’s bed when he walks in. He wakes me up just long enough to let me know he’s here, and then I’m out again.
When I wake up this morning, it’s to one of the nurses coming in. I first look over to Nat, hoping she’s awake, but my hopes crash down again. Then I look for Liam.
He’s standing on the other side of the bed, holding her hand, looking into her pale, expressionless face.
He must have stayed awake all night. His lips are pinched shut and black, purple bags line his eyes. I lay there on the green fold-out chair, sprawled all over, watching him.
Anyone with eyes can see that he has a strong connection with Nat. He cares for her deeply; his heart is on his sleeve, and his emotions are flowing out as freely as a river.
Part of me is glad that someone other than me seems to give a shit about her well-being. Another part of me is jealous; it’s a connection that only Nat and I have shared for years.
Liam glances at me and notices I’m awake. He tells me that the doctors haven’t been in yet to give us today’s news; if something might have changed throughout the night.
My fingers are still crossed, and my prayers are being sent repeatedly.
I haven’t showered or changed my clothes in days, and I don’t care. Hopefully Liam doesn’t mind either. I stand up out of the bed and shove the cushioning back in, making it a chair once again.
Deciding I should give Liam some time alone with her, I tell him I’m going to head to the cafeteria. That I’ll grab us some coffee and breakfast.
By the time I come back in, Liam has already pulled a chair to her bedside. I pull a chair up to the other side of her, careful not to disrupt the machines on this side of the bed.
I hand him his coffee and breakfast sandwich I picked up on the lower floor before I take a seat and start eating.
We’ve now sat in complete silence for more than three hours, still waiting on her doctor. We sit listening to the unceasing beeping of the machines hooked up to her.
She has tubes pushing oxygen into her lungs with the use of a respirator, breathing for her. An IV inserted into her hand, shoving fluids into her body so she stays hydrated.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was lifeless.
Nurses come in throughout the day checking Natalie’s stats. Lifting her limbs and stretching them out. Rolling her to one side then the other. All to prevent her muscles from stiffening and bedsores.
They change the bags of fluid and take samples of her blood, to run even more tests.
Sometime not long after the sun has set, a doctor knocks on the door. “Layla? Can I please speak to you for a moment outside in the hall?” Obviously, he means in private.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say freely in front of Liam,” I reply sternly.
I don’t want to leave Natalie’s side to hear what he has to say, and frankly, Liam rushed to be here and canceled a show. He has a right to know as well.
What comes out of his mouth next floors me. It’s like the floor drops beneath me and sucks me, chair and all, in.
“Well, as you are aware, the patient, your friend Natalie Wright, took an extreme amount of the opiate Oxycodone. This resulted in an overdose.”
“As of right now, the respirator is still breathing for her and she is still showing very little brain activity. It’s been seventy-two hours and there is still no change.”
“If she is to wake up, there is a very high chance she will have severe brain damage.
“She would be very lucky if she were able to speak or walk. She has a possibility of having no use of her motor skills. Again, these things are not guaranteed.”
“I am only advising you, with my experience in these types of situations, that maybe you should consider saying goodbye.” He says in a cruel, impassioned, insensitive way.
Ignoring the doctor, I glance at Liam and see that there are tears rimming his eyes, threatening to fall. I feel the same way.
Does he want an answer right now? I don’t know if I would ever have an answer to that. I look back to the doctor, and he is giving me an expectant look.
“I don’t know. I am still holding out hope that she will wake up. She will be okay. If you came here for an answer, you are not going to get one today,” I say.
I need time; we need to give her time. There is no way I could make a decision as serious as this in a minute.
The doctor reiterates what he had just said, like I didn’t hear him the first fucking time. Then he finally makes his departure.
I open my mouth to discuss what happened with Liam, but freeze.
For four long, emotionally brutal days now, we have sat here.
Taking turns in shifts watching over her, holding our hope strong, while doctor after doctor relayed the same news, that there was very little activity in brainwaves.
That if she is to survive, there is a chance that she wouldn’t be the same person. She could remain in a coma for the rest of her life.
Or if she were to miraculously wake up, she could and would have major motor skills issues. That we should give up, let her go in peace.
When we hit eighteen, she made me her healthcare proxy. She was advised to choose someone she trusted because she had such a large trust of money left to her by her parents.
Her lawyer had strongly suggested it would be in her best interest, were some freak accident to happen to her. I just hadn’t expected to have to ever make such a choice.
Liam and I decided it would be best if we went home last night, before taking on such a big decision; a decision that could never be changed. It would be irrevocably permanent.
He suggested we sleep on it. That it wasn’t something I should take lightly. He asked to sleep in her room and as much as I wanted to call dibs for her bed, I couldn’t.
She’s been a part of my life for longer than he has. I know that if they’d met, he would have felt the same connection to her that I do.
After a six-hour sleep, I wake up with the realization that I’m a selfish person. I don’t want to let her go. Not now. Not ever.
This morning, after a quick shower, Liam and I decide to grab breakfast before heading to the hospital.
He’s behind the wheel of my car, and I’m still wrestling with what I’m going to do. I’m not ready to let her go, to let her leave this world, to let her leave me.
I trail behind Liam through the hospital corridors, my body on autopilot. But what I really want to do is turn around and run as far away from this as possible, to keep her in my life for just a little longer.
I don’t want to face the judgmental stares of the doctors, their silent accusations that I’m a monster for wanting to keep her alive like this.
When we step into her room, I brace myself to see her lying there, unresponsive. But she’s not.
She’s awake.
