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er with an upset glance at her mother.
“You’ve barely eaten or slept for two weeks,” the older woman scolded. “Of course you need to be here.”
The girl’s eyes turned imploring. “How could I eat when Caden just lies there? Having to be fed through a tube? I don’t want to eat anything and when I try I want to throw up.”
Chelsea sat down on her stool and met the young woman’s hollow gaze. “Your son needs you to take care of yourself. If you let yourself get run-down, and, honestly, I think you already have, Caden isn’t going to understand why you’re sick and unable to tend to him when he wakes up.”
“You don’t understand.”
“As someone who has dealt with other patients with family members who pushed themselves too hard and got sick, I do know what you’re doing isn’t good for you or Caden,” she said gently. “He needs you healthy.”
“She’s not slept more than a few hours since the crash,” Georgia added, giving her daughter a stern but love-filled look. “She’s recovering from her own injuries. I’ve tried to get her to go home for a good night’s sleep, told her I’d stay with Caden, but she won’t leave his bedside.”
“What if he wakes up and I’m not there?” The young mother’s face pinched painfully. “What if he wakes up right now and wants his mommy, and I’m not there? I should never have left.” Tears in her eyes, she glanced accusingly at Georgia. “You shouldn’t have made me leave my baby.”
“Not eating. Not sleeping. Living on adrenaline and fear.” Georgia tsked with eyes full of compassion. “Lacey, I love my grandson, but I’m just as worried about you. No matter how old you are, you’re my baby girl, and I hate to see you doing this to yourself.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Lacey sounded angry. No doubt she was angry at the world and would inadvertently take out her frustrations on her mother. “Worry about my precious little boy lying in that hospital bed, fighting for his life,” she demanded.
“Lacey.” Chelsea brought the young woman’s attention back to her because Georgia looked on the verge of tears. Although it was natural for Lacey to lash out, that didn’t mean her words didn’t wound those she inflicted them on. “Making yourself ill isn’t helping Caden or yourself.”
“I’m not ill,” she insisted, looking ready to storm out of the exam room. Fatigue washed over her tiny frame and her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not thinking clearly, but what would you have me do? Go on with my life and pretend my precious baby isn’t lying in that hospital bed, dying?”
Chelsea’s heart squeezed.
“No, I wouldn’t have you pretend anything. Neither do I want you to assume Caden isn’t going to pull through this. You have to remain positive.”
“Positive?” Lacey screeched. “Do you know that Dr Westland told me if Caden survives he’ll likely have brain damage? That he might be mentally retarded or blind or paralyzed or…”
Lacey’s voice choked and she burst into tears. Georgia went to her daughter, embracing her in a hug. Lacey shook her hand, waving her mother away.
“No. I won’t have your sympathy for me. Not when I did this to him.” Her eyes hollow orbs, she turned to Chelsea. “I was the one who caused the crash that did this to Caden. I wasn’t paying attention that he’d undone his safety-belt catch on his car seat. It’s my fault he’s like this.”
The woman’s pain echoed through the room, instilling itself into Chelsea’s heart.
“You didn’t crash your car on purpose.”
“No, that car pulled out in front of me and I swerved to miss it and lost control.” Lacey closed her eyes, shuddering with memories. “We flipped and flipped. I can’t remember how many times. The car just kept rolling.”
“What happened to Caden was an accident.”
“If he’d had his seat belt on he might not have been hurt. I should have known he’d taken it off.”
Chelsea and Georgia both started speaking, but Lacey shook her head.
“Don’t deny it. I heard the police officer say that if Caden had been restrained, he probably wouldn’t have been hurt. He’s right. Look at me.” Lacey held out her scraped arms. “I barely have a scratch, and my baby is lying in that hospital bed not able to breathe for himself.”
“There are a lot of things in life difficult to understand. How one person is born healthy, another not. Why accidents happen to some people, yet others are constantly careless and remain unscathed. Each of us has to make the best of what we’re given, Lacey.” About these things Chelsea knew a lot. Many a night as a little girl she’d cried herself to sleep wondering why her, why her back that was so crooked and malformed, why her parents who insisted on surgery after surgery in search of perfection. “Whatever happens with Caden,” she softly assured her, “he’ll still be your little boy, and you’ll still love him.”
Lacey stared blankly ahead.
“You need to eat. I’m going to ask your mother to make sure you have access to at least one healthy meal a day. Preferably two.” Chelsea glanced at Georgia, who promptly nodded her agreement. “I need you to promise you’ll do your best to eat what she brings you.”
Lacey closed her eyes, her expression pained. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Chelsea said. “And sleep? Will you try that, too?”
“I can’t sleep,” Lacey protested, looking agitated again. “When I close my eyes, my brain won’t shut off to let me. All I see when I shut my eyes is the same thing I see when I open them. A nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare that won’t go away. My Caden unconscious and just lying there, not moving or talking or even knowing I’m there.”
