Finding Jaime

Chapter 113

"Jaime!" I screamed. "Jaime!"

He was in the throes of a massive seizure. It had come on suddenly. One minute he was laying still, as he had been for the past three days. Then suddenly his heart rate spiked and he began seizing.

At five minutes, Meagan and I were pushed out of the room. At ten minutes, alarms continued. Meagan and I held each other and wept, terrified that Jaime was leaving us.

After fifteen minutes, Jaime's room was quiet. I could still hear beeping. His heart was still beating.

"You can come back in now," the nurse said. Meagan and I rushed to Jaime's side. Nothing looked different.  Jaime was still on a ventilator and his eyes were still closed. But his heart seemed to be beating more strongly than before. Though that may have been an illusion.

"Jaime?  It's Dad. Can you hear me?" I pleaded with him, squeezing his left hand. His skin was so dry. But it was warm.

Jaime didn't move. He didn't squeeze my hand back. He didn't open his eyes. His eyelids didn't flutter at all. The nurse still in the room lifted his eyelids and I didn't see any movement when she did that. Nothing had changed except something had happened to cause a seizure.

"The doctor has ordered an MRI and a CT scan to see if the seizure caused any further damage," the nurse said to me.  "They'll be here to take him as soon as they can."

I nodded. What would this MRI or CT scan tell us this time?  Would they be able to tell if Jaime could hopefully wake up?  Would it tell us what type of damage his brain might have sustained and what that could mean for the remainder of his life?  Would it give us an idea of how long that might be?

They came an hour later and took Jaime for his tests.

"Are we saying goodbye to him?" Meagan asked me, tearfully.  "Do you think we're saying goodbye?"

"I don't want to think that," I muttered.

Two hours passed before Jaime was returned to his room.  There was something different this time.

"Jaime did very well in his tests," the nurse smiled at us.

I tried to figure out what was different.

"So well," the nurse continued, smiling. "That we had to take him off the ventilator."

That was the difference. Jaime was breathing on his own!

"Meagan, Jaime's breathing on his own!  He's off the ventilator!" I cried to her. She looked at me with tears in her eyes.

"I hope it's a sign he's getting better," Meagan said, more to herself than me.

But Jaime's eyes were still closed. He still didn't react to noise, sound, pain or any type of stimulation. There was nothing in his eyes when the nurses opened them to check. And his pupils were sluggish. Not a good sign. It was a sign there was still pressure inside his skull despite the surgery to relieve some of that pressure.

I sat beside him. He was almost unrecognizable with all the swelling and bruising. But for now, he was off the ventilator. It was a step in the right direction, wasn't it?

The next day, Jaime's heart rate changed again. His blood pressure started to fall rapidly. He was rushed into surgery for what they said was an internal bleed. Blood had begun pooling in his abdomen from a torn vessel that had been slowly leaking unnoticed. Today it had torn open.

And Jaime was returned on the ventilator.

"Jaime coded twice on the operating table," the doctor informed us. "I'm very sorry. I can't give you any idea as to whether Jaime will ever wake up. Or what state he might be in if he does."

Once again, my son's life was hanging by a thread. One wrong move could mean he's gone forever.

We'd begun bringing the kids to see him. Marvel cried because she didn't recognize Jaime. Neither of the boys said a word. Bronx looked angry when he looked at Jaime. Saint looked devastated. We told the kids what we knew for certain, what we didn't know for certain and that they were allowed to feel however they were feeling.

"You're gonna sue whoever did this, right?" Bronx asked me.

"Probably not. But I sure as... heck am not letting them get away with it. I've kept in touch with the police. I've pressed charges and I'm not relenting," I said.

"I want to kill whoever did this," Bronx frowned.

"Bronx, don't," I said. "I know you're upset. We all are. The police already have the boys who did this in custody."

"Oh! Jamie!" A new voice came through the door. I watched as a short Latino woman rushed to Jaime's side.

"I called her," Meagan said.

"Mr. Peter. I am so sorry," Mrs. Lopez, Emmanuel's mother said, coming over and hugging me. "Francisco and his cousins."

She frowned and shook her head.

"They are not good. This is what happens to being friends with that... boy," Mrs. Lopez said, seeing the kids in the corner of the room. "What have the doctors said? Is Jaime will be okay?"

"We don't know yet, Mrs. Lopez," I said.

"Please, call me Julia.  You and Jaime were there when I lose my Emmanuel. Jaime has known me his whole life. Please call me Julia."

"Okay," I smiled, sadly.  "Julia. We don't know yet. He's, he's had some complications."

Julia looked at Jaime's body laying on the bed.

"You fight, Jaime. You fight. You show that puta you are stronger than he. You come back for your Papa and your Mama. And your brothers and sister," she whispered to my son, holding his hand and squeezing it.

Jaime didn't move.

Julia stayed a little longer, talking with the boys and Marvel. She made Marvel laugh, and that made me smile. Marvel needed to laugh. At just three years old, she'd seen too many sad things with her brother. 

After Julia left, Jaime's doctor came to check on a few things, made some notes and said he'd be back the next day to see if there was any change.

Brendon came with Sarah to visit. Sarah's eyes filled with tears when she saw Jaime.

Joe came almost every day for a little while. He lived in LA. Patrick and Andy called or texted asking for updates daily. They were planning on coming in for Christmas in a few days. They were going to come see Jaime.

Day after day, my son lay unaware of the world around him. Unaware of the people fighting for him. Pleading with him to recover; to so us a sign he was going to recover and come back to us.

But every day passed with no positive change.

Twice, Jaime had to be rushed into surgery.

The bruises started to fade. The whites of his eyes became white again as the broken vessels in his eyes healed. The swelling went down.

After a few weeks, Jaime looked more like himself again. 

Except for the tube breathing for him.