Chat - Archer Mayor [37]
“Leo was no longer able to oxygenate his blood on his own, Mrs. Gunther,” Weisenbeck said. “Which meant that we had to put him on a respirator.”
She nodded slightly. “I understand.”
But he wasn’t done. “I wish that were the extent of it, but I’m afraid there’s more. As a result of the multiple bone fragmentation, Leo’s also suffering from fat embolization. This has affected his brain function, among other things, which is why he’s asleep for the moment.”
She began to ask a question, but he gently held up a finger in order to keep going. “I know—for how long? Right?”
She nodded silently.
“I’m not sure,” he answered. “We are treating him with blood thinners and steroids and time, and we are monitoring him every second of every day. I came to work at this hospital because of its level of patient care, Mrs. Gunther, and I’ve never been disappointed with my decision. I will do everything in my power to make sure that will be true for your son as well. Leo is a strong, resilient, middle-aged man. That is a huge plus in his favor.”
There was a long, painful lull in the conversation before her voice rose quietly into the silence. “Will he be okay?”
Weisenbeck leaned forward and squeezed her fingers again. “He’s resting. You will hear the word coma. That’s true, also, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Our bodies are much more intuitive than we doctors in knowing what to do and when. You went through much the same thing when you came to us, remember? Your body needed rest, and so it went to sleep for a while. Better than what any of us could have ordered.”
Joe’s mother took it in like the psychological medicine it was meant to be, but then asked pointedly, “What dangers is he facing?”
He hesitated, gauging his best approach while looking her straight in the eyes. There seemed to be no breathing in the room.
“He is walking right at the edge. He is susceptible to stroke, pneumonia, and pulmonary embolus, as well as catheter-induced sepsis and several other threats. I will not pretend that it’s not a long list.” Here he added emphasis to his voice and intensified his gaze. “But I must stress with the same honesty that my optimism outweighs my fears.
“In the end, though,” he added, slowly standing back up, “we all just have to wait and keep our hopes up.” He smiled as he concluded, “While we watch him like the proverbial hawk. Okay? When he begins to come around—and I stress when, not if—the initial first signs will be neurological. He will most likely first respond to pain stimuli. His breathing will also improve as the ribs begin to knit, increasing his body’s oxygen saturation, and that, in turn, will help clear out the fat emboli and allow him to emerge from the coma.”
By now he was looking at them all, as if addressing a class. They all instinctively nodded.
“Great,” he said. “Now. Would you like to come in and spend a little time with him? I’ll have one of the nurses help you out.” He glanced regretfully at Gail and Joe. “I’m afraid we’re only letting one person in at a time for the moment, mostly just because it gets so crowded otherwise.”
Joe was already holding his hand up. “Not a problem. We knew about that. We’ll be right here, Mom,” he added, patting her on her narrow shoulder.
She looked around and up at him, her smile belying her concern. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.”
They watched her through the window overlooking the ICU as a nurse helped drape her in a gown and fit a sterile mask over her face in preparation for the visit. In the distance, Leo remained as still as a mummy, white-clad and corralled.
“God. What a nightmare,” Gail murmured.
“Could be better,” Joe agreed.
She glanced at him. “You believe him?”
He kept staring through the window. “What’s not to believe? He said Leo’s walking on the edge of a cliff.”
After a momentary silence, Gail said, “I’ve been trading e-mails with your mom. She says you’re looking into the crash.”
He pressed his lips together, considering how to respond. There was a time when his reaction would have been immediate and open.
Gail instantly interpreted