Leave The City (Book 8 of Adopted by the Josephs)

33. Jenna

"That's fine. You're sure you want the children here?"

"If we're going to lose our daughter, we all want to be with her as much as we can be. That includes her sisters."

The doctor nodded.

"Alright. So, as you undoubtedly heard, your daughter was involved in a serious car accident. The car she was in hit the back of a dump truck that had turned in front of them. Samantha's injuries are consistent with an impact at a high rate of speed."

The doctor continued to explain what they'd done in the emergency room. That Samantha had coded a total so far of four times, and that her injuries were mostly internal, and extensive. He explained the surgeries she'd have and ones she might have later. If she survives the next two days.

If.

If.

If.

The word wouldn't stop bouncing around in my head. It was echoing.

No. When. Samantha is a fighter. When Samantha survives the next two days.

The doctor continued explaining what would happen for the foreseeable future. For now, monitoring her blood pressure and making sure they had stopped the internal bleeding, that she was recovering from the surgery, that none of her wounds got infected. The first two days were going to be making sure Samantha stayed alive. Then we'd be talking about what could and would need to be done while she recovered.

"Sam? Honey? It's Mom," I said to my daughter's unconscious form. "Be okay, baby, okay? Show the doctors how stubborn you are. Show them you can recover.

But, baby, if you can't. If you have to, we're here, okay? Rosie and Junie and Dad and me. We're here with you. If you have to say goodbye, we're here," I sobbed.

"Mama? Sama?" Junie asked, cuddling into me. I held my baby daughter and cried into her soft hair.

"Daddy, I wanna lie with Sammy," Rosie said.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, RosieRo," Tyler said. "She has a lot of boo boos. And a lot of tubes and wires that we can't disturb."

"I wanna lie with Sammy!" Rosie demanded.

Being very careful, we moved some of the wires around Samantha and Tyler let Rosie down on a part of the mattress that was clear. She rolled onto her side and put her little arm around her sister. She was patting Sam's chest in the middle of her chest. Her sternum, I guess.

"Just be careful, okay, Rosie?" I whispered.

"I be careful, Mama. I give Sammy hugs and make her feel better."

I smiled down at my toddler.

"You're going to help the hospital nurses?" I asked her.

"Uh huh. I be Sammy's favourite nurse. But the hospital nurses give her the medicines. I give her the hugses."

I smiled.

Rosie was whispering in Sam's ear. We couldn't know if Samantha could hear her. We couldn't know if maybe Samantha was already gone, but the machines were keeping her body alive. But I felt like Rosie would have said something. With their connection, I felt like Rosie would have known if Sam was already gone.

Brendon and Sarah said they were going to get some coffee and they'd be back. They took our coffee orders and said they'd get something for the girls, too.

I looked at my daughter's supine form. She didn't move. A machine was breathing for her. Tubes were taking care of her other needs. She wasn't in a coma though. Not really. It was medically induced to give Sam the best chance of recovering.

Rosie fell asleep next to Samantha. Junie insisted on sitting near Sam's left leg. Eventually she lay down and fell asleep holding Sam's foot.

Sarah and Brendon, looking beyond exhausted, returned with coffees and some snacks for the kids. Fruits, juice, a couple of cookies and sandwiches.

I couldn't fathom eating, but I definitely needed the coffee.

Brendon told us what he'd said to Samantha before she'd gone out and that she'd stayed true to her word and hadn't had any alcohol. That from the sounds of it, from what they were told, she was on her way home and should have made curfew.  Had Brandi not hit the dump truck.

The machines breathed for Sam. Her heart rate was being traced and the beeping of the monitor let us know her heart was still beating.

But the reality was her insides were mangled. Her lungs had been punctured by her ribs breaking. Her spleen had been removed. Her liver was lacerated, her pelvis was crushed. Her organs had been crushed and bruised. She probably wouldn't have been able to breathe on her own right now, anyway.

My eyes were full of tears. My daughter was right here. Tangible. I could hold her. And yet, she wasn't.

I cried, quietly, knowing I could be losing my daughter minute by minute.

Tyler came to my side and wrapped me in his arms. I turned into him and cried into his chest. I sobbed. We were losing our daughter. We could be losing our daughter. I wanted to think positively, but even the doctors said things were not great.

We sat with her through the night. We convinced Brendon and Sarah to go home and get some rest. Kala and Zack, who'd come to wait with us all on the news about Sam, said they'd go with and take Rosie and Junie to get some sleep. They'd watch the kids so Brendon and Sarah could get a good night's sleep.

Every once in a while, one of us would stand up and stretch, pace around Sam's room a little and we'd discuss coffee. One of us had the misfortune of going down to the cafe in the lobby. It meant time away from Sam, not knowing if this would be the time. At the same time, you were the parent on the coffee run. I lost the rock, paper, scissors, and had to go down to the cafe and hope I didn't hear a call for a Code Blue for Sam's room in the ICU. My heart pounded every time the chimes rang for a page throughout the hospital.

Sometimes, the nurses would buy us one of those travellers from the bigger coffee places. It came with cups, sugar, milk, cream, sweetener and such. It would sit in Sam's room and we didn't have to go anywhere to get coffee for a long part of the day. The church back in Ohio had contacted a branch here in LA and a meal train was organized for the four of us. There was so much food, we were feeding the staff, and if we couldn't finish, we had the food brought to the shelter run by the church. Samantha's story touched so many lives.