Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“I’m going crazy,” I replied. “No one has come to talk to us.”
“They will.”
Just then, a doctor appeared around the corner.
“Mr. Gavin?” he called.
Graham stepped forward. “That’s me.”
“I’m Dr. Davenport. I finished assessing Brad. He has a concussion, a broken arm, cracked ribs, and there are a lot of contusions and cuts from the glass. We’re stitching him up, and we’ll keep him overnight for observation. Luckily, his arm won’t require surgery, but he’ll be pretty sore for the next while.” He drew in a long breath and smiled. “He was lucky. Given how many times the car flipped, he escaped serious injuries. With time, he should heal fine. Once he is done and moved to a room, you can see him.”
There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone except me. My voice cracked as I spoke.
“My husband? Richard VanRyan?”
Dr. Davenport’s eyes were sympathetic as he regarded me. “He is the gentleman who was in the car with Brad?”
“Yes.”
“He’s still being assessed by the trauma team.” He paused. “That side of the car took the brunt of the accident. It was hit directly.”
I whimpered, grasping Laura’s hand. Graham wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me upright.
“We have the best neurologist and orthopedic specialists with him right now. He’s in good hands. In fact, I’m going in to assist. One of us will be out as soon as possible to update you.”
I couldn’t talk. I heard Graham’s voice speaking to the doctor, but I had no idea what words he uttered. I allowed myself to be led to the chairs, and Graham gently pushed me into one of the hard seats. He kneeled in front of me.
“Katy, we’re here. Richard is being examined. You need to stay calm.”
Tears clouded my eyes, panic gripping my chest. The lights around me were too bright, the noises of the busy hospital too loud. I struggled to take in a deep breath.
Graham grasped my hands. “Breathe, Katy. With me. You can do this. Focus.”
I shut my eyes and concentrated on getting the air into my lungs. The movement became easier, and I felt the panic ebb somewhat. I gathered my strength and opened my eyes.
“Graham,” I whispered. “What-what if…” I couldn’t say the words. All my brain could focus on were those words. That side of the car took the brunt.
The brunt. He was seriously hurt. My Richard.
Oh God, how hurt? Was he dying?
Not Richard. He couldn’t be taken from me. It was too soon. We hadn’t had enough time together. We needed decades more time. Our girls needed him. My breathing picked up again, coming out in short pants.
Graham cupped my cheeks, his touch firm. “No, Katy. Don’t even think that way. He is Richard fucking VanRyan. He’s a fighter and the most stubborn man I have ever met. A car accident is not going to stop him. They are going to assess him and fix him. In fact, he’ll wake up and tell them how to do it properly, knowing him.”
A laughing sob escaped my mouth. “I have to see him. He needs me, Graham.”
“Let the doctors do their job, Katy. As soon as we can, we’ll get you to him. I promise. Okay?”
I met his eyes. His worried, understanding, pain-filled eyes.
“Be the strong woman Richard knows you are. For him.”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
A doctor appeared a short time later, his face grave. After introducing himself as Dr. Fletcher and stating he was a neurosurgeon, he asked if I wanted privacy before speaking with me.
“No,” I insisted. “You can say whatever you need to in front of Graham and Laura. They’re our family.”
He crossed his arms. I noticed the smears of blood on his scrubs, and my anxiety increased.
Was that Richard’s blood?
“I’ll make this as brief as I can. After getting the results of the CT scan, I can see your husband has sustained a severe lumbar spine injury, from L3 to L5.”
“What-what does that mean?”
“He requires decompression surgery—immediately. We need to stop the bleeding into the spinal canal.” He drew in a deep breath. “The compression of the spinal cord is causing paralysis.”
I heard the shocked inhale of air beside me. I blinked at the term, unable to speak. Graham cleared his throat.
“Is that a temporary condition?”
Dr. Fletcher shook his head. “That is unknown at this time.”
His words echoed in my head.
Paralysis.
“Is he awake?” I asked, desperate. “Can I see him before surgery?”
“No, he is unconscious. He has sustained other injuries, Mrs. VanRyan. There are broken ribs, lacerations, and contusions—” he paused “—and head trauma. His brain was swelling, and we had to take steps to stop it. We felt it best to induce a coma to give him the strongest chance.”
“The best chance to stop the swelling?” I asked, my voice quavering.
“The best chance to survive,” he replied.
My legs began to shake. Graham wrapped his arm around my waist again, once more offering his silent strength.