Finding Jaime

Chapter 115

Pete POV

A week after Christmas, Jaime started responding to some commands. He could squeeze our hands, weakly, but it was there. And a couple of times he seemed to be crying and responded when asked if he was in pain.

He still wasn't opening his eyes spontaneously or on command. He was still reliant on the ventilator. But there were positive changes. And when we thought he was trying to communicate that he was in pain, he responded by squeezing our hands harder to try to convey how much pain he was in.

After his painkillers, he stopped communicating and I hoped that meant he was getting rest.

We played music, books on audio, podcasts, and just talked to him.

About a week after he started communicating, he was taken to the operating room to replace the section of skull that had been removed immediately after his assault. The doctors said he did well and he came back from surgery in no worse state than when he'd left. We expected he'd 'sleep' for a while after, so we stayed beside him and let him rest.

A couple of days following the surgery, Jaime spiked a fever. A sign of infection. Blood work confirmed it and his temperature kept climbing. The doctors sent him for imaging, ultrasounds, different tests to determine where the infection was.

It was in his brain. Well, the membrane that protects the brain. For days, while he was pumped full of strong antibiotics, he lay unresponsive again. He had seizures. He didn't squeeze our hands anymore when we asked.

Watching my son struggle was breaking my heart.

One day, about two weeks after the infection set in, Jaime's fever suddenly broke. But he still wasn't responding. I worried that what minor gains we'd made were gone. But I wasn't willing to give up. Every day, I asked him to squeeze my hand. I talked to him and tried to elicit a response. A couple of times I was certain Jaime's fingers curled just slightly when I implored him to squeeze my hand. But I couldn't be sure it wasn't wishful thinking.

We were back to not knowing what Jaime was feeling, if he was feeling anything, or if he could communicate anything to us. He just lay in bed, a machine breathing for him. I worried my son was gone. When they checked his eyes, I didn't see his spark. They were dull and lifeless again. My son was gone.

Brendon and Sarah visited often, as did Joe. Meagan brought the kids to visit Jaime every day. Our lives consisted of visits at the hospital, planning our days around being with Jaime and keeping track of any minor or major change.

There was none of either.

The new year came and went with little fanfare. We had been invited to several parties, but I wasn't leaving Jaime's side while he fought to come back to us.

"Pete," Meagan said one evening. "Go home. Get some good rest for a change."

"I can't. I can't leave him," I said.

"Pete, I'll stay. You need to get some rest. Please, sweetie. The kids miss you at home. They completely understand, but honey, go home and get some sleep."

Joe, who was visiting, agreed and the kids practically pulled me out the door.

Joe drove us home. Meagan had promised to call if anything happened. Part of me worried that something would. The last time she'd be left alone with Jaime in the hospital, he'd had a reaction to some medication and had been screaming in pain. She'd had to call me to come back and try to help calm him down.

I didn't anticipate anything like that would happen, but I was terrified that once I left, Jaime would slip quietly away.

I helped get the kids to bed, went through the mail that Meagan hadn't brought to the hospital, and then went to my own bed and tried to sleep.

I did eventually fall asleep, but I didn't sleep well. Nightmares plagued my dreams.

"Hey, Dad," I heard and looked around. Jaime was standing beside me.

"Jaime!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Saying hi," he said.

"Jaime, how are you here though?"

"Magic," he smiled, then he turned and walked away.

"Jaime!" I called out as he walked through the wall.

I opened my eyes and realized I had been dreaming. But I was worried my dream meant something and called Meagan straight away.

"Hello?" Meagan's tired voice came over the line. She didn't sound anything more than sleepy. I took that as a good sign.

"Hey, Meag. Is everything okay? Is Jaime alright?"

"Jaime's fine," Meagan said, yawning. "Why?"

"No reason," I said. "Sorry if I woke you."

"No problem. But try not to worry. Jaime's in good hands. He's doing just fine," Meagan said. There was a smile in her voice. "Get some more sleep, Pete. We'll see you when you get here. Later."

"Okay," I said, hung up and tried to go back to sleep. Something was nagging at me.

My alarm went off to get the kids up and off to school, after which I'd head to the hospital with Marvel for Meagan to take to her programs if she had any today. I hadn't realized that I had managed to fall back to sleep.

I actually felt pretty well rested and my sleep had been dreamless after the dream with Jaime.

"Are you going back to the hospital?" Saint asked me as I poured the boys and Marvel cereal.

"After I drive you two to school, yes," I said.

The kids ate fairly quickly, helped clean up and got their belongings. I got them all into the car and they caught me up on the events of the past few days.

"Alright, boys," I said, pulling up outside the school. "Have a good day. Behave. Meagan will pick you up this afternoon and bring you to see Jaime."

"Say hi for us," Bronx said as he unfolded himself from the front seat.

"I will," I smiled. "I'll see you guys later."

The boys waved goodbye as I drove away.

"Alright little miss. Should we get Mama a coffee?" I asked Marvel.

"Yeah!  I can has a hot chocolate?"

"You bet you can!" I smiled at my daughter.  She sang them whole way to Starbucks and then to the hospital.

I was not prepared for what I saw when I walked into Jaime's room.