I sort of roll my eyes because, I'm sorry, finances are the least of my worries right now.
The ICU doors part, and a doctor walks out.
I stand up and rush toward him.
“Is he okay?” I ask.
“Jadyn Reynolds?” The doctor asks me. I shake my head yes. “Let's sit down.”
I cringe at the let's sit down. On TV, bad news always follows that saying. I sit down next to Phillip, who grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly.
“Your father suffered severe brain trauma, and his body is shutting down. We've revived him once, but we need to discuss what you want done when it happens again. Did he have a living will?”
I look at him kind of puzzled because I'm not exactly sure what that is.
Danny's dad stands up and says, “Yes, he did. Here. I brought a copy.” He hands the living will to the doctor.
“What's that for exactly?” I ask.
Chuck turns to me and says very slowly, “Well, your parents didn't want you, or each other, to ever have to make difficult decisions about medical care should something like this happen. So they put their wishes in something called a living will. Your dad did not wish to be held in a vegetative state.”
Holy shit, I think. Vegetative state?
“So bottom line is, he's going to die?” I ask incredulously.
Please let this be a bad, bad dream.
“Yes, it's inevitable,” the doctor tells us.
“When?” I ask and then hammer him with a whole slew of questions. “Can I go talk to him? Can he hear me? Is he in pain? What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?”
“Yes, you can talk to him.” The doctor is young, good-looking and has compassionate eyes. If I weren't in such distress, I'd probably be flirting with him. “He's highly medicated, and he won't be in any pain. He's slipped into a coma, so he won't talk back, but we believe coma patients can hear you. So go talk to him, tell him you love him and say goodbye.” He stops and sighs. “I know this is tough, but he signed the back of his driver's license indicating his wish to be an organ donor. We need your approval for that. He was a strong, healthy man and his organs could help many families whose loved ones will die without them.”
I zone out most of what he said because all I can focus on is the word was. He was a strong man.
Was?
I turn and glance at Phillip. “Was?” I put my elbow on my knee, hold my chin in my hand and close my eyes.
How am I supposed to do this?
I cannot do this.
A voice inside my head, probably the same stupid one that can never say no to a dare or take no for an answer, says, you have to.
“You didn't answer the when part.” I state.
He shakes his head and purses his lips, “Not long. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few minutes.”
“When do you need to know about the organ donation stuff?”
“When you make a decision, let his nurse know, and she'll get you the appropriate paperwork. You can all go in to see him, but please, no more than two at a time.” He gets down on his knees in front of me, touches my hand and says seriously, “Jadyn, I'm very sorry about both your mother and father. I was here when they both came in, and we really did everything we could.” And I realize that this has been hard on him too.
“Thank you. I appreciate everything you did,” I manage to say.
Mr. Mac comes walking back down the hall. Mr. Diamond heads him off and updates him on the situation.
“I'm going in there,” I state. I want to see Dad, but I feel sick to my stomach. Part of me feels like if I just pretend this isn't happening, then maybe it won't be. The other part of me needs to say goodbye. I feel like a big fat chicken.
Get a hold of yourself. You are so not a chicken.
I walk up to Mr. Mac, look at him with well practiced puppy dog eyes, and give him a hug. He really looked like he could use one and, truthfully, I'm hoping to soften him up a little. “Would you come in with me?”
Okay, so maybe I'm a bit chicken.
“I don't know if I can, JJ.” He answers truthfully. “It tears me up to see him like that.”
“Me too. But we have to. We'll do it together, okay?”
He shakes his head yes, and we walk into the ICU.
I hate to say it, but Dad looks worse. His skin is very gray. I don't know why this is such a shock to me, but it is. I shake my head to Mr. Mac, indicating he can go first.
He puts his hand on my dad's shoulder and says, “Hey buddy. Not our best night ever, huh? And we have had some nights, haven't we?” He pauses, remembering and smiling. Then he continues, “Things aren't looking so great for you, so I want you to know I'll take care of your angel as promised.”
Huge tears stream down his face, and he doesn't bother to wipe them away.
It's really hard to watch a grown man cry.
He slowly backs away from the bed, so I walk over and perch gently on the edge of it. The hospital smells like cleaner and medicine and disinfectant, yet through it all I can still smell my dad.
It's not even his cologne.
It's just him.
I lay my head across his chest.
“I love you, Daddy. So much. I don't know what I am going to do without you and Mommy.”
This sucks.
No one should ever have to go through this. It's just so horribly, incredibly awful.
The organ donation thing comes to mind, and I think if I can save even one family from having to go through this, I should do it.
I walk straight out to the nurse and say, “Let's do it. Let me sign the papers.”
While I'm signing she says, “You know you're doing a wonderful thing. In a few minutes people across the country will get the call they have been hoping and praying for. Because of you.”
“No. Because of my dad,” I say, and walk back in with Dad.
He dies a few hours later.
Phillip's parents drive us home. We get to their house and, like a robot, I wash my face, brush my teeth and pull on a pair of Phillip's sweats and a T-shirt. Danny's mom whips up some sandwiches. They look good, but I have no desire to eat. I sit there on the sofa and don't say a word.
Really no one says a word. I think we're all in shock.
Finally Mrs. Mac breaks the silence. “I think we should all try to get some sleep.” She turns to me and says, “JJ, the doctor gave us some sleeping pills for you. I think you should take one.”
I shake my head no. “There will be a lot to do tomorrow. Oh, I guess it already is tomorrow. I mean like later today. Anyway, I helped my parents plan Grandpa Reynolds funeral last year, so I know there'll be lots to do, and I don't want to feel all groggy.” I took a sleeping pill once after I broke my arm and had a hard time staying awake the next day.
Danny's dad says, “JJ, we can do everything for you, honey, you don't have to.”
“Yeah, I do,” I tell them. “I think I need to.”
Phillip's cell rings. “Danny,” he says to me, then gets up and walks into the dining room to talk. Obviously, so I can't hear. As usual, Phillip is trying to protect me.
Like I'm not already painfully aware of what happened tonight.
He walks back into the room and hands me his phone.
“Are you okay?” I ask Danny.
“Ohmigawd, Jay. Yes, are you okay? No, that's a stupid question. Of course you're not okay. I am so sorry. God, I should've been there with you.”
“You couldn't have known.”
“I'm headed out the door now. I'll be there as fast as I can.”
“Don't do that, Danny. It's been a long night, and I don't want to worry about you driving. And we're all just getting ready to go to bed, so get some sleep first and come in the morning, okay?”
“O-kay,” he answers.
There's silence on the other end and I wonder if the call dropped, but then Danny sighs, “Jay?”