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I hold her hand as Graham continues the rest of his exam. He checks her eyes, listens briefly to her lungs, all the while asking more questions.
“In order for us to see what’s really happening, we’re going to run some tests, okay?” he says.
“What kind of tests?” Emma asks.
“A CT scan and X-rays,” he says.
Her tears start up again, after they’d slowed down for a bit.
The door to the room opens, and Evie walks in with who I’m guessing are Emma’s parents following closely behind.
It’s an easy guess with the concerned looks on their faces, the mom’s watering eyes, and the dad’s furrowed brow.
I remember my own parents when they first saw me in the same position. My mother’s face when she leaned over me to look at me, the lines between her brows creasing as she studied me, the worry and concern both she and my dad had that night, and for the next while until we knew exactly what was going on.
The dad begins asking Graham questions, and he fields them easily, reassuring them that we will do whatever we can to make sure Emma is comfortable and gets the care she needs.
With her mom there to comfort her, I prep Emma’s arm for an IV so we can help ease some of the pain.
“Is it ... bad?” the dad asks after Graham has given them a rundown and his concerns.
“She has feeling in her extremities, so that’s a positive thing,” Graham tells him.
“She’s a gymnast,” her mom pipes in. She’s standing at the head of the bed, softly pushing Emma’s hair back from her face in a soothing way. “Will this affect it?”
Graham shakes his head. “I can’t say just yet. We’ll have to run some tests to find out exactly what happened.”
“I won’t be able to do gymnastics?” Emma asks, her voice thick. My heart breaks a little as I remember asking a similar question about swimming. I can only hope Emma’s outcome is better than mine.
“Let’s get you to the CT scan and X-ray and we’ll have more answers after that,” Graham says.
My heart sinks. This is too close. Much too close. I even remember the doctor giving my parents a similar line to the one Graham just delivered. At that point it hadn’t even registered that my future could be affected.
I swallow back the feeling. I’m in a better place now mentally, especially after this silly challenge, which has breathed new life back into the dull one I’d been living. Despite how close this all seems, I have a job to do. And my job is to make sure Emma is comfortable—as comfortable as she can be under the circumstances.
After going over any possible allergies to medication with Emma’s parents, Graham puts in an order for some morphine.
As we walk out of the room together, I feel his hand on my lower back. He pulls me to the side just outside the room.
“You okay, Price?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding my head. “I’m ... fine.”
His eyes search my face, the concern on his making it hard for me to squash the feelings hovering at the surface, ready to break through.
“It’s similar, isn’t it?” he says as he studies me.
“It is,” I tell him. “But hopefully not. Maybe she’ll have a different outcome.”
“Maybe,” he says, but I can tell he’s not all that confident.
I wouldn’t mind a hug right now. For him to pull me into his arms right here in the middle of the emergency room, with all the beeping noises and the sound of the heat being pushed through the vents.
Instead, I take a step back. “I better go get the morphine.”
He doesn’t say anything; he simply nods as I head to the med room.
THE NEXT HOUR GOES SLOWLY as Emma has a CT scan and then X-rays. When she’s finally brought back to the room and I’m helping her get situated and comfortable, Graham walks in.
