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Leigha guides me down the hall and into an elevator with Julia. I have so many questions, I feel like I haven’t given Julia time to ask any, but she does in the elevator. “Once you back off the sedation, how long before he wakes up?”
Leigha hits the button for the second floor where the neuro ICU is. “Grayson’s young so more than likely only a few minutes. Most of the time it’s the older patients that hang on longer.”
Minutes. I can see his eyes open in minutes. My heart is beating so hard in my chest it reminds me of that first night I saw him in town. And to think about it, it was one month ago today. It’s amazing how quickly life can change.
It takes us about five minutes to reach Grayson’s room. Inside, it’s the same machines keeping him alive that were in there earlier. Dr. Nehls is standing in front of the ventilator. He smiles at me as Leigha helps me up. “Julia, why don’t you stand over there.” He points to Grayson’s right side. “And Evie you come stand by me.”
With unsteady legs, I stand and take the few steps toward him, aware of every beep and noise the machines are making. The room’s still dark, with very little light leaking in, and I imagine this is by decision.
Leigha and another nurse push buttons on monitors and Julia cries. Watching her, I think maybe this is the first time she’s been this close to his face and the side he’d been hit on. Now her view is of the thick bandage on his head and the invasive-looking wires coming from his scalp.
“It should only be a few minutes and then I’m going to ask him some questions.” He looks to Leigha. “Why don’t you give him some eye drops.”
She does.
And then we wait. It’s four minutes and thirty-two seconds when Grayson stirs in the bed. His hands move first, but they’re constrained. “Usually their first reaction is to pull the breathing tube out,” Dr. Nehls notes when I glance at Grayson’s hands twitching.
The next thing that happens is him breathing over the ventilator. Leigha touches her hand to Grayson’s chest. “Just relax, Grayson. You’re okay,” she soothes, rubbing her hand in a calming manner, her voice tender.
His legs move next, just the right one.
I breathe in slowly, trying to control my own breathing. I stand, frozen, immobilized with fear. He didn’t move his left leg. Does that mean he can’t?
I watch his face, every detail. The brow crease that forms, the flutter of his heavy lids. He fights it for exactly one minute. “Grayson, can you open your eyes for me?” Dr. Nehls asks, his voice calm and even as he stands closest to Grayson’s face.
My heart lurches, waiting.
His body twitches, then his hands again. With what seems like a lot of effort, his eyelids flutter again as Leigha continues to rub his chest softly. With how swollen his eyes are, I can’t imagine he’s going to be able to open them much, but he does.
For the first time in three days, Grayson opens his eyes in my presence. I burst into tears and notice at my cry, Grayson tries to move his head, his eyes shifting, searching for where the sound comes from, the heart rate monitor showing an increase.
Does he know it’s me? “I’m sorry,” I say, holding my tears in, trying to regain my composure.
At my voice, his fingers on his right hand move, as do his shoulders.
Dr. Nehls drops his hand to Grayson’s, his eyes on the monitors. “Grayson, can you squeeze my hand for me? Can you squeeze your right hand?”
I drop my eyes to his hand, waiting.
Nothing.
He blinks a few times, and I get a good look at his brown eyes. His left eye has a large blood spot on it surrounding his pupils, the right, much the same. Dr. Nehls repeats his question. “Grayson, can you squeeze my hand?”
Julia and I exchange a look, probably fear, but it’s quick. What if… no, I don’t want to think of the what ifs.
I watch his hand as the question is repeated a third time, Dr. Nehls’s hand in his. Grayson’s fingers close around his hand, the whites of his knuckles evident that it’s a good grip.
“Excellent.” Dr. Nehls nods and moves to Grayson’s feet, tapping his left foot first. “Now can you wiggle your toes for me?”
It’s takes a second, but he does. They continue to ask him basic questions. He blinks a lot, moves his head around, searching the room. He gives the doctor a thumbs-up and by his restless movements in the bed, I think he’s getting anxious. It’s all a blur as to what’s said, what he does, but one part gives me hope. It’s when I’m standing in front of him and I say his name. “Grayson?”
His eyes snap to mine, his head turned slightly, and while I think I see relief in them, I can’t tell. “I love you,” I whisper, reaching for his hand, squeezing it.
He returns the gesture, blinks and then turns away from me toward his mom. She smiles tenderly at him, touching her hand to his chest. “Keep fighting, baby. You’re doing amazing.”
“Does he know who we are?” I ask Leigha, who’s standing closest to me now.
“I’m sure he does. Grayson, do you know who this is?” Struggling, he shifts again in the bed, trying to lift his arms. His eyes find mine again. “Squeeze her hand if you know who she is.”