“No hemorrhage?”
“No.”
“Clot?”
“No.”
“Swelling?”
“No new swelling. No evidence of infection or seizure-related injury.”
I gripped the edge of the chair.
“Then why won’t he speak?”
“His brain is exhausted.”
The answer sounded too simple.
Dr. Venn sat opposite me.
“Think of cognitive capacity as a limited power supply. Before the collision, Noah could run many systems at once—language, memory, balance, emotional regulation, planning, sensory filtering. Now those systems require more energy and some rely on inefficient routes.”
I nodded.
“Yesterday’s stress demand exceeded the available supply. His brain protected itself by reducing output.”
“Like shutting off nonessential circuits.”
Dr. Venn’s mouth moved slightly.
“An electrician’s interpretation, but yes.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes. He responds inconsistently to simple instructions. He recognizes voices. He is not sedated yet, though we plan to give medication that will allow deeper restorative sleep and lower his blood pressure.”
“Will he recover?”
“We expect improvement.”
“Expect.”
“We cannot promise a timetable.”
My stomach turned.
“Hours?”
“Possibly.”
“Days?”
“Possibly.”
Dr. Whitcomb leaned forward.
“The absence of new structural damage is important. This is a setback, not evidence that his earlier recovery vanished.”
