Deal With It

forty three

Chapter 43

coma

/'kəʊmə/

noun

• a prolonged state of deep unconsciousness, caused especially by severe injury or illness.

So that was the definition of a coma. But it was so much more than just that. It sounded so technical, but what about everything else that accompanied it? What about how much the patient misses out on? What about the agony we, as family and friends, go through as we wait for the patient to awaken?

It was nearing the end of the fourth day since we were informed. The sky outside was dark, clear of any clouds, with only a bright full moon alongside some tiny stars. The window was opened, allowing a refreshing cool breeze to enter and circulate the entire room.

I crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, resting my head on the slightly uncomfortable chair and closing my eyes as I began to hum, the only other sound around me being the steady beeps of the cardiac monitor.

Everything was going from bad to worse and I was losing hope with each day that passed. The people I surrounded myself with kept telling me to keep faith, to believe that everything would be alright. But would it? That was what I had been hearing since it all began but I had seen no change at all. I started to realise that they were just being sympathetic, trying to comfort me, but their defeated eyes told another story. They, too, were becoming hopeless and were desperate for any sign of Tyler recovering.

I opened my eyes and gazed at the man lying before me, unsure of whether he could even sense my presence. In these few days, the radiant glow of his face had disappeared, his skin much paler, his body so thin in comparison to his old muscular self. I needed him to wake up and hug me and tell me he was okay. The more I wished for it, the more I realised it wasn't going to happen.

The day Daniel dropped that bombshell on me, saying Tyler killed someone was the same day the operation on Tyler's liver was completed. I was ecstatic, thinking I'd be able to tell him I loved him and that he could say it back. But I was wrong. Nothing of the sort happened.

Dr. Smith told us he was still unconscious. I didn't come to any rash conclusion then, thinking he just needed time for recovery. I was proven wrong when he was rushed into the Intensive Care Unit, nurses following the doctor's orders and the doors to the room shutting in my face, blocking me from seeing inside and making me feel left out once again.

The doctor said Tyler was "unresponsive to painful stimuli, light and sound." He also said they had performed CT scans on him "to observe any abnormal brain functioning." They came to the conclusion that the cause for his condition was a lack of oxygen, especially its deprivation in the brain. I still remember his exact words: "The Central Nervous System requires a great deal of oxygen for its neurons, and oxygen deprivation in the brain harms neuron communication."

I wasn't entirely sure what it meant but I was sure it wasn't good. There was nothing good about your boyfriend being in a coma.

My last flicker of hope was reliant on the doctor saying Tyler wasn't in grave danger and that he most likely wouldn't be comatose for over five weeks, but if he was, this was a more severe case than first anticipated. I had to say the thought of that was unnerving. No, actually, it was frightening.

Tyler was put into another room, the one I was currently in, once he was out of immediate danger and his health was more stable. He was still being closely monitored and had a group of nurses, working different shifts, designated for his care.

The door opened and two nurses, dressed in all blue with their hair tied up, walked in with delicate smiles gracing their lips. "How is he doing, love?" one, whose name tag read Lorraine, asked.