Better Off Alone (Adopted by Brendon and Sarah Urie)

38. Brendon

I sat holding Callie's hand as machines breathed for her, took care of feeding her and dealt with her waste.  My parents had left to go home, feed the dogs and bring Sarah and me clothes and some food.

Throughout that whole first night, Callie struggled.  We were so afraid we were going to lose her. In fact, we almost did. At one point her vital signs, despite the machines, started dropping. At one point, her heart stopped and they called a 'Code Blue', kicked us out of the room and worked on Callie. 

The doctor came out, looking exhausted. They'd been in there for 15 minutes, almost 20. We were afraid to ask, but obviously, we needed to know. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Urie," he said as he came up to us in the waiting area, where I was holding Sarah, trying to hold in my tears as she sobbed into my shoulder. 

"Is Callie...?" I couldn't finish the sentence. I didn't want to know.

"She's stable. We got her back. She's still unconscious. She's still in a coma. I can't give you a timeline of when she might wake up and we won't know about any damage until she does. But, we did get her back. Right now it's a waiting game."

"She's alive?" Sarah asked. 

"It's machines, obviously right now, keeping her alive, but yes. She's alive.  You can go back in and be with her."

We rushed back to Callie's bedside.  The nurses and the doctors finished doing whatever they needed to do and left us. They looked at us with sympathy. I wondered if they knew something we didn't. Did the doctor not tell us something?

I sat beside Callie and looked at her intently.  Her skin was a little waxy looking, and her hair was matted. But she had been in the ocean, and it's not like the doctors and nurses were concerned about her hair. 

Her eyes weren't moving under her eyelids. I noticed that one thing as I watched her lay on the bed. And while her hand was warm, it was dry and felt so... lifeless. I couldn't help but wonder, were we losing our daughter? 

I stifled a sob, as my parents came back into the room. 

"Brendon, go change," my mom said quietly while handing me a bag with a change of dry and warmer clothes. 

"I don't want to leave her," I said, terrified that what had happened before could happen again while I was out of the room. 

"We'll be right here," my mom said. "You won't be gone long. Sarah's changing in Callie's bathroom. Go get into warmer clothes and have a sandwich. We brought them, they're on the table."

I shook my head. I couldn't leave Callie's side. Not now. 

Sarah came out of the bathroom, her eyes red-rimmed, but dressed in jeans and a warm hoodie. She had her hands wrapped in the sleeves and she looked so lost. I took the bag from my mother, got up and went over to Sarah. I wrapped her in my arms, without saying a word. She broke down into sobs and grasped onto my t-shirt. 

"Are we losing her?" Sarah asked me. I couldn't answer.  Tears flowed silently out of my eyes. "Brendon, I can't lose her."

I shook my head. I couldn't lose her either. It would destroy us. 

Sarah wiped her face, looked up at me and smiled sadly. 

"Go change. It won't make things better, but you'll feel better being warm."

I nodded, went into the bathroom to pull off my bathing suit and t-shirt, and put on the sweatpants and t-shirt, socks, underwear and sneakers my parents had brought.  I pulled out the hoodie they'd brought and tossed my dirty clothes into the bag. 

Back by Callie's bedside, I returned to holding her hand. My mother brought over a sandwich and implored me to eat. I did, but I didn't taste anything. 

I hadn't noticed when it got dark, but my parents said they were going to go back to the house to sleep and to please call if anything happened. Absolutely anything. We agreed. 

Callie stayed stable throughout the night. In the morning, there was no change whatsoever. Callie looked the same, the nurses came in and did the same things they'd been doing all night, checking her temperature, checking her IV, checking her catheters, changing out what needed to be changed out. 

Around nine, my parents came in and at 10, the doctor came in to do rounds.  We had to leave the room. Every minute away from Callie terrified me. 

My parents managed to force Sarah and me to go down to the cafeteria to eat something. I wasn't hungry, but I ate some yogurt and fruit, had a cup of coffee and got another one for when we went upstairs. 

Just as we were throwing out our garbage we heard an announcement for a Code Blue in the pediatric ICU. Room four. Callie's room. Sarah and I ran. 

As before, we were kept out of the room.  The four of us sat in the waiting room, holding each other and crying, not knowing what was happening. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Urie?" a nurse said, coming into the room. We looked up. "You can come back into Callie's room now."

"Is she?" I asked, again. 

"You should come back into Callie's room. Now," she said, adamantly. Was Callie, was she dead? Had we lost her? 

Holding on to Sarah, as she held on to me, and my parents holding on to each other, we went into Callie's room. 

Callie's eyes were still closed. The ventilator tube had been taken out of her mouth/throat. I sobbed. I rushed to her side and grabbed her hand. I wrapped my arm around her and held her body. 

I felt a hand on my arm and looked up. But Sarah, my mom and dad, none of them were close to me. I looked down at Callie, whose eyes were open.

"Callie?" I said, then realizing my mistake, signed her name. She nodded. I started sobbing again. But this time with joy. Callie was alive. Callie was awake!