“Can I see him?” I ask quickly.
“Of course. But I must warn you, he’s currently being kept sedated on a ventilator, so he won’t be conscious.”
Hearing those words, I can’t help but freeze as my brain suddenly conjures an image of what that means. Immediately, I’m reminded of the traumatic memory that’s forever been seared in my mind—my father, lying prone in a hospital bed, brain dead, but being kept alive on life-support. I can see it as clearly as if I’m right back there, and my body reacts in kind. Whatever else the doctor is saying about Luke’s condition gets warped and muffled, transformed into unintelligible noises.
This isn’t the same as last time, I try and tell myself, but it’s hard to believe.The doctor just said he’s okay—Luke’sfine. Calm down.
They won’t let everyone come to the ICU—there’s not enough room for the whole group. However, Marcus offers to go with me for emotional support. Maybe he can see the way I’m freaking out. I’m sure it’s written all over my face.
The journey across the hospital is arduous, and the whole time, I can feel the anxiety moving through my chest like it’s replaced the blood in my veins. I’m nothing but cortisol walking. It takes all of my mental acuity to remember to breathe. The moment we get to the unit, and the doctor leads us over to the little bay sectioned off with curtains, I see Luke lying on that bed, and I completely lose it.
He’s pale as a ghost, hooked up to various IVs and cables, blood and clear bags of fluids being pumped into his veins. A heart monitor beeps steadily in the corner, a chilling reminder of my worst nightmares. The breathing tube down his throat really cinches it. The rhythmic pump of oxygen being forced into his lungs triggers an involuntary reaction in me.
Suddenly, my brain can’t differentiate between the image of Luke hooked up to a bunch of tubes and machines and the haunting memory of my father in the same position. It’s like they supersede each other, happening simultaneously instead of a decade apart. The deep, visceral wound in my soul left from my father’s untimely death is struck like a bow to a string. The note that follows is harsh and discordant, and it overwhelms me. I’m trapped reliving the worst moment of my entire life, and I can feel myself shutting down in another debilitating freeze.
“Ethan.” Marcus’s hand is on my arm. If he couldn’t see the panic in my eyes before, he can certainly see it now, and it sparks him to action. “Sit down.”
I let him direct me to a chair, and I more or less collapse into it. Marcus kneels in front of me and physically turns my face away from Luke, forcing me to focus on him. My heart is racing, and my chest feels tight. I don’t remember what it is to breathe easy. I think I’m hyperventilating.
“Is he okay?” someone asks, their voice concerned.Obviously not.
“He’s all right. He’s just having a panic attack,” Marcus affirms, though he sounds calm as he relays that to the nurse. God, how does he always manage to stay so calm? “Do you have any ice you can get me? That’ll really help.”
The nurse leaves to fulfill the request, and Marcus turns back to me. Even though I’m finding it very difficult to function, I still can’t help but hate the way he’s looking at me right now, knowing what it means. That my screwed-up brain has taken overonce again, and I’ve been hijacked. God fucking damn it. I thought I had gotten past all this. I was doingbetter.
“Ethan, look at me,” Marcus says, and his voice is so kind it’s painful. “Can you try that breathing technique for me? The four-six-eight one?”
I shake my head at first—I don’t think I’ll be able to get my lungs to cooperate. But he insists, his dark eyes pleading. So, I close my eyes and do as he asks, counting in my head through each step. Four in, hold for six, eight out. At first, it’s difficult to get into the rhythm, my chest feeling so tight that holding air in feels like suffocating. Marcus counts with me, keeping me on track, his hands firmly in mine. After a few repetitions, I can feel the relief flood through my shoulders which means it’s working. My chest relaxes, my heart rate settles—even my brain chills out. We do it for nearly a minute before I feel like I’ve regained control.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Marcus softly, putting my head in my hand, feeling ashamed.
“Don’t you start apologizing for this,” Marcus chastises. He hands me a cup of ice chips that the nurse must have brought back while I was occupied. “This is not a normal situation, Ethan. None of this is something a person should be expected to just be okay with.”
“You’re not acting like a mental case.”
“If that was Tiff instead of Luke, you bet your fucking ass I’d be right where you are.”
I look at Marcus warily, fearing he’s simply trying to placate me, but then I see the sincerity in his eyes. He probablywouldbe just as freaked out if the roles were reversed. It doesn’t take away the pain I feel now, even knowing that it’slogical.
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” I whisper. I can’t even bear to look back over at Luke yet—the mere thought of it threatens to bring me right back to the panicked state.
“You’re not alone, dude,” Marcus grips my knee. “This isn’t going to be like last time. We won’t let you go back down that road, okay? We’ve got you. And Luke’salive,man. He’s a little banged up, and will have a long road to recovery, but he’s here. He’s not going anywhere just yet. This isn’t the same as your dad.”
He says it with such conviction that it’s hard to discount the words. He looks at me with such emphatic, unwavering belief that I’m capable of dealing with this that I feel like I owe it to him to at leasttryto be. I’m still terrified of backsliding and undoing all the work I’ve put into getting better, but I won’t be forced to navigate it without help.
Still, it takes a few more minutes of focusing on my breathing and chewing on the ice chips before I feel comfortable enough to face Luke without spiraling out of control. When I can get up, I move over to his side, wrapping his pale hand in mine. There’s no reaction—no indication he can tell I’m even here. Not that there would be. It’s so reminiscent of the last time I found myself in this place, sitting beside my father, feeling the warmth that should have indicated life, that it’s difficultnotto remember.
The agony clings to me, demanding center stage. I just keep reminding myself that this won’t be like last time.Thisisn’tlike last time.And only time will prove that to be true.
Luke is kept in a medically induced coma for a few days while the doctors continue to monitor his condition. During that time, I remain faithfully by his side like a guard dog, unwilling to leave and more than ready to bite anyone who comes between us. I’m an immovable force.
In truth, I’m too nervous to go home, afraid that the moment I do, something terrible will happen and I’ll miss it. I couldn’t live with that kind of regret. Just because Luke’s not underwater anymore doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods yet. Until he wakes up and tells me he’s okay on his own, I’m going to have a hard time believing it for myself.
Marcus, Tiff, and the others all step up to the plate to help me in a way that’s both immeasurably comforting and, unfortunately, necessary. They take turns going to check on Misty alone at my house, feeding her, playing with her, and changing her litter box for me. They bring me back clothes, and I make do with washing up at the bathroom sinks in lieu of a shower. They rotate who stays with me throughout the day, bringing me food, and forcing me to eat their offerings before they leave.
I’d say it’s a little demeaning being treated like a toddler fussing over unwanted vegetables, but I can’t blame them for their persistence when I know the alternative is that I simply wouldn’t eat. They know it, too. They’ve seen it before. So, even as my stomach churns at the idea of food amidst my swirling anxiety, I don’t fight them.
At night, I sleep in the uncomfortable chair next to Luke’s bedside, drowning out the frantic workings of the ICU around me. I’m practically immune to it by day two. But I’m trained to the subtlest change in the heart monitor attached to Luke,snapping awake at the slightest irregularity. Meanwhile, my anxiety is so intense that I can feel how my body goes numb to counteract it. It’s the only way I can stay sane at the moment, even though I know it’s not good long-term.
