December 1st, 2013 (7 weeks, 6 days)
As I anxiously pace from wall to wall in the ICU waiting room, the rambling thoughts in my head won't seem to stop. My last words to Paul were that I wanted a divorce. God, how could I have said that? A divorce is the last thing I would ever want. I love my husband so damn much. His last thought before the crash must've been how I hated him.
My knees start to wobble, but I balance myself on the armrest of one of the chairs. I don't think that I have eaten since lunch yesterday at the charity event.
The event had gone so well until Paul and Roger crashed. The vivid memory of running up to the car and trying to get him out makes me double over in pain. I failed him. I couldn't get him out.
Luckily, amidst my grief while one man pulled me away, one of Paul's ROWW volunteers pulled him out of the wreckage. They got Roger out too, but Callie told me that he was already gone.
The hours between the wreck and Callie telling me about Paul is all just a blur. I don't remember anything. If Callie wasn't at the house with me, I would've believed that my husband had left this Earth.
Paul sustained several injuries, most of which I'm not fully aware of. He was in surgery from the moment he got to the hospital to close to night time. Callie said that I was so in shock that she had to bring me home.
I still am in shock, really. Here I am, sitting in the waiting room, waiting for visiting hours to start, and waiting for a doctor to tell me how my husband is. I need him to be okay. There's no way that I can go about life without him, especially when I'd have to raise four kids.
My head rests on my right hand while my left hand rubs my stomach. I've been pregnant three times before this, but for some reason, I feel a deeper connection to this baby. Maybe it's the fact that I'd never thought that I would have him or her, or maybe it's because this child will need twice the love if their father doesn't make it.
Someone sits down beside me, but I simply do not have the strength to look up to see who it is. Judging by the painted fingernails of the hand that's holding a coffee out toward me, I would say it's Callie.
"You look like you could use this," Callie whispers.
I manage to shake my head, but she is persistent in giving it to me. "I'm not supposed to drink caffeine, Callie." I find the strength to look up at her, but not enough strength to smile or use any facial expression. "I'm pregnant."
At first, a smile appears, then her face falls. "Did Paul know?"
Yes, he did, and he didn't even want the baby, my subconscious answers. We fought over a life we made together, but now Paul might now ever get to see that life. A baby he didn't even want, he might not even get. The irony isn't even remotely amusing. "Yeah, he knew. He wasn't happy. He wanted me to have an abortion and I said no. That's why we fought before he..." I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.
She takes the coffee and puts it on the side table next to her. Instead of saying anything else, she rubs my back. Silence is probably best at the moment. It leaves me with my thoughts, but at least I can constantly remind myself how much of a horrible person I am. I deserve to be told that.
My stomach grumbling fills the silence in the room, and I can't help but laugh. Baby Walker is hungry, and that makes me feel bad too. I'm a bad person and a bad mother for depriving him or her from food. A sigh makes its way past my lips.
"How about we go to the cafeteria?" Callie suggests. "You need to get some food in you for the baby."
"I'm not eating until I see Paul," I simply tell her.
Normally she would argue with me, but this time she just nods. "Well, it's nine o'clock. Do you want to go by yourself or do you you want me to go with you?"
Support would be nice, but I should see him by myself. "I'll go," I mumble, slowly getting up.
The look of concern on her face is clear. "He's in room three in the ICU wing."
I nod and walk down the hallway, using the side rails to keep myself up. The second I see him, I know that I will probably collapse in tears. I need to be strong, but being strong is already proving to be a difficult task. How am I going to put on a brave face for everyone when I feel like I'm dying inside?
Turning the corner into the ICU, I get several looks of pity from nurses. They know who I am and who I am here for. One of them sees how dependent I am on the rails, and she comes over to help me to Paul's room.
When we are standing in front of his room, I tense up. The curtain is pulled, blocking the view inside. The nurse asks me if I'm okay, and I tell her I am. I have a feeling that I'm going to be doing that for a while.
She pulls the sliding door open, and I pull the curtain back a little bit so I can walk inside. Once I am in, I pull it back just as the door is pulled to. For a couple of minutes, I avoid looking at the bed. Just the sound of all of the machines makes this situation even more real.
I take a deep breath, collecting myself before I turn around. Slowly, I turn to face my husband. As each second passes, my heart breaks even more. There are so many wires and tubes connected to him. Even though he is in a coma, I wonder if he can feel how much pain he is in. That thought alone sends me back against the wall, gripping the side rail. I use my free hand to muffle the cries coming out of my mouth.
This is so much harder than I thought it would be. I look up at him again. He looks as if he's sleeping. That's a more comforting thought than what the reality is. I make my way over to him slowly and sit down on the bed, careful not the touch any wires. I hope and pray that all they are doing will bring him back to me.
I grab his hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it softly. There has never been a time when I've seen him so fragile besides now. It's like he's a porcelain doll, threatening to break at any moment. I can't bring myself to look at any other part of him besides his face. There are several bruises, along with a piece of gauze covering the left side of his jaw.
The steady rise and fall of his chest is almost soothing, until I notice the ventilator that is next to his bed. Oh, God. This is so bad. If he needs a machine to breathe for him, what are the chances of him making it?
Damn it, Sierra, stop thinking about that! I don't need statistics to tell me the chance of him coming back to me and our family. My husband is so strong, and so is our love. Yes, we had a fight right before the accident, but our love is strong enough for him to pull through this. When he does, I will never leave his side again. We will never have another fight, only tons of kisses and mumbling I love you's.
Someone clears their throat behind me, and I turn to see a doctor standing there. There isn't a smile on his face, but it doesn't concern me in the slightest. To smile at a moment like this would be rather inappropriate. "Doctor," I mumble, shaking his extended hand.
"Hello, Mrs. Walker. I'm Dr. Geralds, the ICU doctor on duty. Your husband's surgeon isn't in at the moment, but he will be by to see you when he comes in." He's very polite, but I'm too numb at the moment to do anything besides nod. He takes a seat next to the bed so I have a clear view of him without having to turn around. "Your husband's injuries weren't as bad as we thought when we first brought him in, to say the least."
I can't stop myself from glaring at him. This isn't as bad as they thought? "I'm not sure what you mean by that."
He glances at Paul for a moment then looks at me. "Based on how bad the accident was, your husband is very lucky to only have the injuries he did. You can see the gauze on his left jawbone where it was broke. He broke several ribs, one of which punctured his lung. That was fixed in the surgery, but we still have him on a ventilator. He had trouble breathing on his own, so the ventilator is helping him breathe. There were multiple pelvic fractures, some of which we have to have another surgery for. He also broke the left side of his collarbone."
My eyes stay on Paul's face. Did he know what was happening, or was he unconscious the whole time? "Why is he in a coma? You said nothing about any head injuries."
"Well, we believe that he hit the back of his head hard in the crash. If you look at the back of his neck, it's black and blue. After the surgery, we did a CAT scan to check for any brain swelling. He suffered a massive concussion which caused his brain to swell. Because he hit his head, it knocked him out. When you get knocked out or go to sleep when you have a concussion, it can send the person into a coma. We're giving him medicine to keep the brain swelling down, but that's all we can do." He begins to stand up, but I'm not going to let him leave right now. I still have so many questions.
"Will the brain swelling cause damage?" I ask him. If it causes memory loss, I might go insane.
The doctor shakes his head, and I am relieved. "If it comes down normally, it won't. Mrs. Walker, you have to understand that even in today's times, we still don't understand many things about brain injury. It's all a touch and go kind of thing. We won't know for absolute certainty that it hasn't caused damage until he wakes up. As for when he wakes up, that is totally up to him. All we can do for right now is make him as comfortable as possible."
--
Throughout the day, multiple family members, friends, and Fast family come to visit. We all mutually decided that we wouldn't let the kids see Paul. I know that he wouldn't want them to see him like this, so they won't. Meadow has put up a protest, but I'm sure deep down she doesn't want to see him like that.
All of the visits go by, and soon enough, I'm left by myself at the end of visiting hours. I haven't left Paul's side all day. Callie had lunch and supper brought to me, and she even watched me eat it to make sure I was eating. I'm glad that I have such a great support system.
A nurse comes in and smiles at me weakly. "Do you want me to bring some pillows and blankets?"
I give her a warm smile because of her compassion. "No, thank you. I'm going to go home." She smiles and leaves me again with Paul and the hum of the ventilator.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my pocket to see that it's a text message from Andrew.
I'm in the waiting room for whenever you're ready.
I wish that I could stay, but I know that I'll never be able to sleep knowing that Paul is laying in bed in a coma he could not come out of. My lips meet the warm skin of his cheek. I've always been told that even if someone is unconscious, they can still hear and feel everything, so I hope Paul felt that and he knows I am here. When I was unconscious for that short period of time after my wreck, I could hear and feel things. So it gives me hope that Paul can do just the same.
"Paul, I love you so much. I'm so sorry for all the mean things I said. It kills me that our last words were a fight, and I wish that I could take it all back. I'll never be able to forgive myself if you don't come back to me. We can work things out, I'm sure. Never in my life will I ever want to divorce you, because you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me." Tears come streaming down my face, and I wish he was awake to wipe them all away. But for right now, I kiss him on the cheek again and walk out the door.
As I walk down the hallway into the waiting room, I get the feeling that I'm going to be making this walk a lot. I'd make it everyday for the rest of my life if Paul wakes up.
When I make it to the waiting room, I see Andrew stand up, the same look of pity on his face as everyone else. However, I feel a strange sense of comfort as I step into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Sierra. How is he doing?"
The words don't want to come out of my mouth. I don't want to say that there's a possibility he couldn't wake up. That would be the absolute worst thing for our kids. They need at least one parent to be there for them. What's going to happen if labor in this pregnancy goes wrong and neither Paul or I aren't there? Now is not the time to think about that. "He's about the same. Nothing new." Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I'm not entirely sure.
Andrew hugs me tighter. "You know if there is anything that Callie or I can do, we are here for you."
"Stay at the house with me," I laugh softly, joking. If I have a two month old to tend to, then I definitely won't be getting any sleep. It'll be hard enough as is with everything that's going on.
"Actually," Andrew begins, pulling away, "Callie is already at the house. We're gonna stay as long at you need us."
I hug him again. "Thank you so much."
Andrew ends the hug and puts his arm around me. "Come on, let's go home."
The car ride was uncomfortably silent, with nothing but the car heater on full blast. Yesterday was so warm and bright, but tonight is so cold and desolate. The weather mirrors how I feel inside. I know that Andrew is searching for something to say, trying to make conversation, but nothing is said. That's how mostly everyone was today, not talking and giving me looks of pity.
Then again, I wouldn't know what to say to myself either. The love of my life is in a coma. I'm in a life threatening situation too, but my focus is mainly on Paul. I'll worry about myself after Paul wakes up and he is in my arms again.
When we arrive home and walk through the front door, I can feel that the energy has changed. As I look around, all I can see is the memories we've made here. I'm not entirely sure if I can sleep in our bed tonight.
Andrew puts his keys on the coffee table beside the door. "Callie said that Aubree and Luke are staying with Paul's parents tonight."
"What about Meadow?" I ask, looking into the living room. The TV is turned on and ironically enough, Fast & Furious is playing. It's the part where Brian and Braga's car has just been hit in the tunnels and it flips multiple times. Tears well up in my eyes and I swallow the lump in my throat. Andrew rushes to turn it off when Callie walks in.
"Meadow won't come out of her room. I've tried to get her to eat but she won't." She closes the distance between us and hugs me. I've been hugged so many times today, but that's okay. Although, I'd rather be in my loving husband's arms and him tell me everything is going to be okay.
When we part, I start toward the hallway. "I'm going to go talk to her." They don't say anything, but I can hear their whispering. I stop in front of Meadow's door and knock softly. "Mead, sweetie, it's Sierra. Could you please open up?" There's nothing but silence. "I know you're hurting, baby girl. I am too."
"Please don't call me that. That's what Dad called me," Meadow whispers ever so softly. If I wasn't straining to hear her, I wouldn't have picked up on that.
"Don't shut me out, please. Can we talk?" My ear is pressed against the door, just in case she whispers again. However, the door opens, and there stands Meadow, her face tear stained and her eyes red and puffy. "Oh, come here." I pull her into my arms and she starts crying again. Her body shakes and I do my best to hold her together.
"He's not coming back, is he?" She mumbles against my chest.
I run my fingers through her hair, trying to calm her down a little. "Don't say that, sweetheart. Your father is the strongest person I know. He will pull through this, and he will come back to us." By the time I'm finished speaking, tears are falling down my face as well. "Why don't you sleep in our bed with me tonight? I don't want to be alone and I'm sure you don't want to either."
Meadow nods, releasing me to wipe her tears away. "I'll put my pajamas on and I'll be in there in a minute."
"Okay," I reply, kissing her forehead. She shuts the door to change, and I walk into our bedroom. I don't remember spending last night in here, so I guess you could say this is my first real night. At least Meadow will be with me and the bed won't seem so big and empty.
I grab my pajamas and walk into the bathroom to change into them. As I remove my shirt, I can't help but stare at my lower stomach. With Luke, I was really quick to lose most of the baby weight. Obviously, I don't have a baby bump yet, but knowing that there is a life in there is amazing. That life was created out of love but that love is hanging in the balance right now. I will always love Paul, no matter what. But when he wakes up from his coma, will he suffer any memory loss? Will he remember me?
Why am I even thinking about this? Of course he will remember me. Our love is too strong for memories of us to fade away.
I throw my dirty clothes in the hamper, and some of Paul's that he left laying in the floor. It makes me smile, remembering all the times I would get on him about doing that. He would always mock me about it, and most of the time it would turn into a bunch of kisses.
The thought of not having that with him anymore absolutely terrifies me. For what seems like the thousandth time today, tears spring to my eyes. I cannot cry right now. Meadow is fixing to come in here and I shouldn't cry in front of her. She is scared out of her mind that she is going to lose her father, and so am I.
Sighing, I open the door into the bedroom. When I walk out, Meadow isn't in here. I debate on going to find her, but the thoughts of the movie scripts overtake my thoughts. Those stupid things are one of the reasons why we fought before he got in that damn car.
My feet move toward Paul's nightstand before my mind has a chance to think. I grab the scripts out of the drawer, ripping them to pieces. The tears I'd tried to hold back spill over anyway. I'm tired of crying, fighting, and waiting. I want Paul to come through that door right now and tell me he loves me and doesn't want to lose me like I might lose him. I want him to throw me on that bed and kiss every square inch of my body like he used to.
In the midst of my thoughts, I look down at the box I had seen when I first discovered the scripts. On second glance, there is a tiny name tag with my name on it. This must be a gift Paul had gotten me before the accident.
Upon opening the lid, there is a stack of letters, all of them say 'Open When' on them, along with random times on them. The first one says 'you receive these'. I hastily tear the letter open, desperate read anything Paul has written.
Open When...
You Receive These
Hey, baby. You're probably wondering what these are and why I gave them to you. First of all, these are open when letters. They are for you to open whenever the letter says you can. I trust in you to open them only when they say. After they have been opened, you can read them as many times as you would like. They are for you and hopefully when you read them you can get a glimpse inside of my heart and know how deeply I love you.
We're going through a rough patch right now with all of the fights and your surgery but I know we will get through it. How do I know that? It's not just because I love you so much, it's because we've been through hell and we still ended up together. I will never give up on us. The day I stop loving you is the day I stop breathing.
Baby, I want you to know that I have always loved you since day one. This letter isn't as long as the others, but I hope that this one will give you a better outlook on me and our marriage. I can't lose you again. I refuse. The year and a half I spent without you were some of the worst days of my life. We've worked so hard to get to where we are and I refuse to throw away something beautiful.
There isnt a day that goes by that I don't think about you when I am away and want you in my arms. I want you to be in them forever if that were possible. I know that I've made you cry many times and want to give up, but I will kiss all of those tears away and show you how important you are to me. The day I said I do to you was the day I became yours forever, heart and soul. Like it or not baby, you are stuck with me.
As I am writing this, we are in a fight right now about filming. I want you to have these that way you can have a piece of me with you in these letters. I hope and pray that this allows us to get back to where we were, but I know that it will take more than letters to fix us. Love, I promise to give you my all. I love you with my soul and more.
Forever yours,
Paul