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Athanasios

CHAPTER THREE

Two Days Later

"Are you telling me my sister isn’t in a coma because she hit her head?" the woman introduced to me as Madison Foster asks.

We had to cancel our first meeting because the priority was determining the severity of Brooklyn’s tumor. Conversations can wait; life cannot.

I stare at Zeus’s girlfriend. There’s a mix of anger and fear on her face, which is rather intriguing. I know she’s the younger of the two sisters, yet she seems ready to take on the whole world to protect Brooklyn.

"How is it possible they didn’t detect the tumor at the other hospital?" Zeus interjects.

The same day I left the meeting with Brooklyn’s former medical team, I spoke with Madison on the phone and requested authorization to transfer her sister.

Once Brooklyn was settled in my hospital, I spent the next day meticulously examining every part of her. As I suspected from observing the images, the presence of a tumor was confirmed.

There’s only one possible answer to Zeus’s question: the incompetence of the neurologist in charge, coupled with a fatal flaw many colleagues have—a tendency to assume something is true simply because it "appears" to be true—led to the misdiagnosis.

I glance from one to the other and notice the moment they grasp what I’m not saying.

"My God! Could she die because of this tumor?" Madison asks.

"I completed all the necessary tests yesterday, and my conclusion is that it’s benign."

"Then why hasn’t she woken up?"

"Even though it’s benign, the tumor is located precisely in the area of the brain she injured during the fall on the day of the attack—specifically, it’s pressing against the reticular activating system, which controls consciousness. I’ll need to operate."

Madison’s expression shifts from indignation to joy. Her face is as expressive as a television screen, emotions playing out with no filter. "And then she’ll wake up?"

"That’s not what I said. There’s a chance she might wake up sooner but not immediately. In any case, I’ll need your authorization to proceed with my plans."

She looks at Zeus. "I’m terrified. What if she doesn’t come back?"

"Do you need a moment of privacy?" I ask.

"No," Hades’s brother replies, bringing Madison’s hand to his lips. "He’s the leading authority in neurology in the country. We should try."

"I’m the leading authority in neurology in the world ," I correct him.

She nods in agreement. "When do you plan to operate, doctor?"

"I want to run a few more tests before scheduling the surgery, but no later than a week from now."

"And after that? What’s the next step?"

If I had a dollar for every time I heard that question, I could easily triple my fortune.

"The next step will be to wait, Miss Foster. The brain hides many secrets. Science has uncovered a great deal, but there’s still an ocean of the unknown."

A Month and a Half Later

"Come on, Brooklyn, we both know there’s no reason to keep sleeping. The tumor is gone; it’s time to wake up, girl. Don’t ignore me. I don’t handle being disregarded by those whose attention I demand well."

She sat up for the first time today, but that’s far from enough. I want her fully recovered.

Her face shows the same serenity as the first time I saw her, but the difference now is that I know there’s no longer anything threatening her life. The tumor was confirmed to be benign, the surgery was a success, and from a clinical standpoint, my work is done.

Brooklyn’s awakening should happen at any moment. Yet, for the first time, I find myself anxious while waiting for a patient to come out of a coma.

I tell myself I want her to wake up because, involuntarily, I’ve become involved with the rest of her family.

The day I met her sister, I learned that Madison, along with their stepmother Eleanor, is taking care of Brooklyn’s children.

I glance once more at the unconscious woman before heading to the operating room, where I’ll be performing surgery on an elderly man in about thirty minutes.

Tomorrow, Madison will visit her again, as she’s done every day since Brooklyn was transferred to my hospital. She follows her sister’s recovery obsessively, and I decide it’s time to give her some good news.

The Next Day

As I expected, I find her leaning over her sister’s bed, adjusting a strand of Brooklyn’s hair.

The scene stirs memories, and for a moment, I forget why I came here, caught in a past I can’t afford to dwell on.

"Hello, Dr. Athanasios," Madison says, turning toward me. She must have heard the door open.

"Madison, how are you? Do you have a minute to talk?" Even as I speak to her, my eyes remain fixed on the sleeping woman, as they always do when I come here.

"Of course," she replies with a half-smile, and I can’t quite figure out why.

She kisses her sister’s cheek and then follows me into the hallway. We head to a consultation room—not my own, which is on the top floor of the hospital. My day is packed, and I have no time to waste.

"Did something happen?" she asks, looking anxious as always. Before I can answer, she says, "Would you mind if I straightened the books on that shelf behind you?"

"What?"

"I think I have OCD, and I won’t be able to focus on our conversation if they’re not aligned."

"Go ahead," I reply, almost smiling. Who doesn’t have quirks?

Two minutes later, she returns to her seat. "All done. You can speak now."

"This isn’t the first time we’ve talked, but we’ve never delved deeply into your sister’s condition, only discussing her progress. What do you know about comas?"

"As soon as Brooklyn was injured and the doctors declared her comatose, I researched the condition. I know a coma is when someone becomes unconscious due to brain dysfunction or injury, unable to wake up or respond to stimuli."

"Exactly. Most of the time, coma patients lose the ability to think and have no awareness of what’s happening around them. There are those in a deep coma, showing no signs of consciousness, and others, like Brooklyn, who exist in a state of partial arousal. I ran some tests to confirm the nature and degree of her coma because, now the surgery has been done, she’s taking longer to wake up than I anticipated."

"So, what did you conclude?" she asks.

"In nearly all cases, the brain’s energy flow indicates the likelihood of recovery. To put it simply, these tests determine whether a patient is likely to wake up. I’m certain she will, as we discussed in our first consultation—we’ve removed the main barrier, the tumor."

"Please, I can’t take the suspense. As much as I want you to ease my anxiety, I might slap you if it’s not the answer I’m hoping for."

"Your sister’s results show her brain’s energy flow is close to eighty percent. To give you some perspective, when a patient has a flow around forty-five percent, we already know there’s a significant chance they’ll wake up."

"Oh my God!"

She starts crying, and I’m unsure how to respond. In the end, I offer her a tissue and wait for her to calm down.

"I’m sorry, but you’ve just given me the best news I could have hoped for."

"But I wouldn’t be completely honest if I didn’t tell you there could be aftereffects. She spent a long time unconscious."

"What kind of aftereffects?"

"Mostly orthopedic, from muscular disuse. Memory loss is also possible. It all depends on how much the brain was affected. The truth is, when it comes to comas, we have more questions than answers. But that’s not the only reason I called you here. Yesterday, Brooklyn sat up in bed on her own."

"What? Is that possible?"

"Yes, it’s possible. I’ve had several patients exhibit similar behavior. She also squeezed my fingers when I—" I cough, unsure how to continue. "...when I . . . held her hand to check her pulse."

I’m almost certain she’s hiding a smile, but I pretend not to notice.

"This means, based on my experience," I continue, "that she could wake up at any moment."

"You know I’m getting married the day after tomorrow and traveling to my fiancé’s island in Greece for our honeymoon, but I need your word that the moment she wakes up, you’ll let me know immediately. I’ve been praying for this since she was hurt, doctor."

"You’ll be the first person I call, Madison."