CHAPTER 27
The days ahead were more of the same; Tristan and I took shifts staying in Trey's hospital room. Watching and waiting for some miraculous change in his condition, but there was none. His doctors were still 'guardedly' optimistic about his recovery.
My father arrived in Nashville on Saturday afternoon as promised. He had brought Preston with him. Trey had been moved to a step-down unit that morning. Tristan had flown back to Atlanta the night before to spend time with Gina and Reese. His parents were still there helping out.
Now that Trey was in a regular room, the hospital permitted more family to be present. Preston was allowed to be in the room with me during visiting hours. I hadn't seen her since the night before Trey and I had left for our cruise nearly two weeks prior.
Seeing my father carry her into Trey's room brought a rush of emotion to me. She was dressed in the beautiful coat and hat that Susan and Clive had given her for Christmas last year.
"Mommie," she squealed, reaching for me. I was on my feet taking her from Dad and settling her down on the sofa that doubled as a pull-out bed in the hospital room.
"Hi, baby girl," I cooed to her, taking off her hat and coat, and giving her a visual inspection. I hugged her closely to me.
"Mommy missed you, Preston. Have you been a good girl for Aunt Gina and Grandma?"
"Un huh," she said, shaking her head up and down. Her big blue eyes were taking in all of the monitors and gadgets in the room. She immediately spotted Trey, her little arm outstretched, her finger pointing over to him.
"Daddy seeping?"
"Yes, honey," I answered, "Daddy is resting so that he can get all better."
I looked over at my father. What should I tell her?
He immediately came over and reached for her to take her.
"Let me show you something, Preston," he said, lifting her into his arms. He carried her over closer to Trey's bed.
"You remember what I explained to you on the plane this morning about sometimes people have accidents and get boo-boos?"
She was watching my father intently nodding her head up and down, her little index finger in her mouth.
"Remember how I told you that hospitals are places that help people that have been hurt get all better?"
"Uh huh. Daddy got boo-boos?"
"Yes, honey, he does. But they are getting better. I'm sure your daddy would like it very much if you gave him a kiss. Do you want Grandpa to lower you down so you can give Daddy a kiss on his cheek?"
"Un unh," she said, shaking her head 'no.'
My father looked over at me clearly distressed. It was apparent that Preston was a bit apprehensive about seeing Trey in his present condition.
"Tylar," he said, "This is probably a bit difficult for her to comprehend."
"I know, Dad. Let's not push it. I'd like to spend some time with her. Will you stay with Trey?"
"Of course, I will."
"Come on, Preston," I said taking her. "Do you want to go and have some ice cream with Mommy?"
I took her to the cafeteria and we had ice cream together. She chatted away about Reese in her own little 'baby' language. It suddenly dawned on me that Preston was 19 months old this very day. She was growing up so fast. I didn't want Trey to miss any of it.
Dad stayed with Trey while I took Preston back to the hotel and we napped together. I made dinner for her and then showered and changed my clothes. We headed back to the hospital so that I could relieve Dad.
There was a nurse in the room talking to Dad when we got there and someone else in a suit was with them. They had Trey's chart in front of them reviewing it.
"Tylar, can I see you in the hall for a moment?"
"Sure, Dad."
We stepped out in the hallway. Dad immediately took Preston from me.
"Sweetheart, I hope you don't think I am stepping on your toes but it grieves me to see the way you spend 24/7 here at this hospital, hundreds of miles away from your family - your support system. I enlisted the help of Trey's nurse to contact someone from hospital administration to see if Trey could safely be transported back to a hospital in the Atlanta area to convalesce. They can transport him on Tuesday and have referred him to a neurologist in Atlanta."
"Oh, Dad - thank you! I didn't even think about making that inquiry. I seem to be taking things hour by hour these days."
"That's only natural, Tylar. That's all you had to work with for the first few days you were here but he is stabilized so his physical therapy can be administered just as easily in Atlanta."
I was so grateful for my dad's intervention. I guess that was something else that fathers did. I hugged my father tightly to me. He was my rock as well.
Trey was transferred to St. Matthews as scheduled the following Tuesday. Tristan, Clive and Susan were all waiting as the private medical helicopter arrived with Trey and me. He was settled into to a private room in the short-term rehab unit. It was just ten days ago that Karen Deeny's vehicle had careened into our lives wreaking turmoil. I was thankful for each day Trey was here because I knew he would get stronger. I felt less stressed now that he was back in Atlanta. I needed family. My father had been right. I would call Dad later to let him know everything went as planned once I was sure that Trey was stable in his new surroundings.
The physical therapist came into the room later that evening at everyone else had gone home. I was leaning over Trey, carefully shaving his face. I had been vigilant about that when we were in Nashville. His bruises had started to fade; his stitches were dissolving as his lacerations healed. I was talking to Trey as I shaved. I always did that to keep him up to date on what was going on. I hadn't heard anyone come into the room.
I heard a male voice clear his throat somewhere behind me. It startled me; I jumped and nicked Trey's face.
"Holy shit! Now I've slashed my husband's face thank you very much," I muttered, grabbing a tissue from the box and pressing it up against the tiny little knick.
"I hardly think you could call that a slash, Mrs. Sinclair; I apologize for startling you like that."
I looked at the man standing at the foot of Trey's bed. He was in light blue scrubs and had Trey's chart in his hands. He was extremely handsome; tall and muscular, with thick wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He didn't look like he was more than thirty years old. His eyes couldn't hide the amusement he got from my over-reaction on the tiny knick.
"I'm Dr. Phillip Grayson, Mrs. Sinclair. I will be writing the physical therapy treatment plan for your husband."
I wiped the shaving cream off of Trey's face with a towel; and pressed a small piece of tissue to the knick. I stood up and went over to where Dr. Grayson was standing. He smiled holding his hand out to shake mine. I took his hand noticing that it was warm and strong; like Trey's.
"Do you have a few minutes to answer some preliminary questions that will aid in my developing his P-T plan?"
"Of course," I replied, walking over to the window and adjusting the blinds to allow more light into the room.
Dr. Grayson asked me questions about Trey's physical fitness and workout habits prior to the accident. He examined him briefly, commenting on his good muscle tone.
"Isn't it kind of early to start physical therapy when he's still in a coma, Dr. Grayson?"
"You'd be surprised at how quickly the muscles can atrophy, Mrs. Sinclair, especially with someone that works out as stringently as it appears your husband has been doing. He won't be a happy camper if we let that happen to him," he gave me a smile and a wink. I felt my face flush.
I appreciated the fact that this doctor out of all of the ones I had talked to over the past week was the first to allude to the fact that Trey was going to wake up. This doctor didn't want Trey to be pissed when he did. I liked that.
Dr. Grayson gave me his card if I had any questions. He told me Trey's therapy would start the following day. There would be three 15-minute sessions to introduce and reinforce stimuli for his breathing and physical movement abilities. He said it was important to prevent pneumonia or other infections while Trey remained in a temporary vegetative state.
Dr. Grayson answered some of my questions and put me totally at ease that nothing they used to stimulate Trey could adversely affect his coma; on the contrary he said that patient's response to the various stimuli serves to bring them out of the vegetative state. I felt optimistic.
He was just finishing up with our discussion when Gina breezed through the door. Dr. Grayson shook my hand again and departed. I shoved his card into my pocket.
"Whoa, who was that?" she said coming over to me and giving me a hug.
"That was Dr. Grayson; he is the head of Physical Therapy for vegetative patients here, apparently."
"Clearly not hard on the eyes either," Gina replied.
"Shhh -" I hissed at her, nodding my head towards Trey.
I motioned for her to follow me out into the hallway so that we could talk.
"Gina - you have to watch what you say when you're around Trey," I warned her.
"Ty, I was only making light of it. I didn't mean anything by it."
"I know, Gina; but suppose Trey heard that? You know how he is about stuff like that. All that is going to do is piss him off and possibly hinder his recovery."
"Gee, girlfriend - I didn't think about that. I'll watch what I say, I promise."
"Okay, then," I said, hugging her.
Gina spent the next hour with me catching me up on all the things that Preston had been up while I had been on vacation and then in Nashville. She said Susan had been a godsend through all of this.
"Ty, do you want to stay at the apartment with us? It's closer to the hospital?"
"Actually Gina, I want to get back home with Preston and Jean. I have to put some normalcy back into Preston's life. You know she wouldn't kiss Trey when Dad brought her to Nashville over the weekend."
"She's just a toddler. She doesn't understand."
"I know that; but I need to talk to her and reinforce that her daddy will be okay. I don't want her to forget how he was before all of this happened."
"It's just been a little over two weeks since she saw Trey. I don't think she will forget him that quickly."
Gina and I picked up Preston; she drove me out to our house; Susan was staying with Trey tonight; Clive was staying the following night. Tristan had insisted that the four of us all take turns. I knew that he was worried about me. I knew that they all were worried.
I told Gina I would see her the following day when I drove into Atlanta to see Trey. She told me to drop Preston off and she would keep her.
I got Preston settled into her own bed for the night. Jean stopped me in the hallway for an update. I had talked to her on the phone almost every day since this had all happened. She was like a 'mom' to me.
When I went into our suite I saw that Jean had put everything back in order. All of the ripped up clothing had been removed. There were stacks of new jeans, sweaters and tops folded on my bed. I wasn't sure if Jean or Gina was responsible; I was just grateful that someone had done this act of kindness for me. I didn't sleep well at all. I didn't like being in our bed without Trey. I cried softly into my pillow.
It was Christmas Eve. I almost wished it would snow though that is fairly uncommon for Atlanta. I was standing in Trey's hospital room looking out of the window at the cold, chilly rain that was pelting against the glass. It wasn't nearly cold enough for snow. It was just plain dreary. It didn't seem like Christmas.
Trey's parents had left the day before for California to visit Nigel and Tess until after the New Year; Preston was over at Tristan and Gina's anxiously awaiting Santa Claus. I was here with Trey who had still not come out of his damn coma. I was getting pissed. Why the hell wasn't he fighting this? Enough was enough I thought to myself.
I had gone off on a couple of the physical therapists earlier in the day. I had overheard one of them whisper to the other that Trey needed to be moved to a nursing home due to his 'prolonged' vegetative state in order to free up this bed for a patient that had more chance of recovering.
I had ordered both of them none too quietly to get the fuck out of Trey's room; I told them they didn't know 'shit from shinola' and then threatened to report them to Dr. Grayson. They had skittered out of there looking at me as if I was some crazed bitch as I chased after them.
Later I had told Gina I was spending the night at the hospital. Trey was not going to be alone on Christmas. She and I had even argued. She said my priority should be Preston on Christmas. I had told her to mind her own fucking business; I would be the one to set my own priorities. Tristan had finally told us both to shut up because the babies were getting upset.
I had bought a small little artificial Christmas tree to set on the table next to Trey's bed. Susan had brought some of the ornaments from Bristol for our tree at home but I hadn't put one up this year. We were never there. Preston was at Gina's most of the time; I was here with Trey.
I grabbed the remote for the television in his room and put some Christmas music on while I decorated the sad little Christmas tree next to his bed.
I looked over at him while I decorated; his bruising was gone; his lacerations had healed nicely. He was thinner but he still looked gorgeous. His vitals were always good. What was the problem? It had been almost a month now.
His firm had sent over a lovely Christmas arrangement and fruit basket. I moved them now to the window ledge so that I could center the tree properly. I dug into the box of decorations that Susan had brought. I pulled out the little Christmas angel that Trey had made in the second grade; the one that had been made out of a tampon. I recalled when I had first seen it our Christmas together in Bristol.
I sat down on his bed and put the angel on his tree; tears rolled down my face as I looked at it now.
I stretched out on my side next to Trey facing him.
"Wake up, Trey. Please wake up for me. I can't do this much longer, baby. I just can't . . ." My sobs came rushing out; I didn't care. It wasn't as if he could hear me anyway . . .
_______________________________________________
I can hear Tylar crying but I can't see her, damn it! I can feel her next to me; I can always tell when she's near me even if she doesn't say anything. I can sense her nearness; her moods. I sense her sadness right now and it crushes me. Does she think that I don't want to see her? I love her with my whole being whatever that happens to be these days.
Marla is back now with Marley; we have had several lengthy chats about things. She lets me hold Marley sometimes but most of the time she does her fading routine when I ask for the baby. She has my number I think. She knows I want to take the baby with me. We've talked about the fact that I need to cross back over. Marla says it is not my time yet. I ask her over and over again to explain why the hell it was Marley's time. She says she is not the one with the answers; the one with the answers has told her I need to cross back. Marley is staying put. Apparently my mother-in-law doesn't know how stubborn I can be.
Marla is speaking to me now in her soft, melodic voice; she is telling me to trust her; she is telling me it is time to go. Wait! I want to kiss Marley one more time. They fade. I chase after the fading vision. . . I can't reach them. Damn!
I sat up quickly in Trey's bed. Had I just imagined that he had moved in his sleep? I had stopped my crying when I felt him move next to me. I brushed the wetness from my cheeks with the back of my hand. My nose was running. I pulled a tissue out and blew my nose. I watched Trey. There it was again! His arm had moved; his face had twitched. His brow was furrowed as if he was frowning or pissed about something. Who had made him mad?
I continued to watch him. Nothing more happened. I had probably imagined it. I finished decorating the tree and then plugged it in so the miniature twinkle lights illuminated. The crying jag had helped a little bit. My tension was relieved. I was done with my 'pity party' for the time being.
I found the remote and switched channels. One of the satellite channels was running a 1980's movie marathon all day Christmas Eve. I located it as the next movie was getting ready to start. It was 'Dirty Dancing'. I loved that movie! Who wouldn't love anything with Patrick Swayze in it?
I curled up next to Trey, laying my head on his chest as the opening credits started with the familiar soundtrack; the muted black and white, slow motion footage of the various dancers came across the screen with the classic '60's tune by the Ronettes. . . Oh My God! I remembered when Trey had told me about that song the night I almost died! I listened as the lyrics spilled out plain as day. 'The night we met I knew I needed you so; and if I had the chance I'd never let you go . . '
God - how strange was this that the song Trey had told me about a few weeks back was now playing in full Dolby surround sound in his hospital room? It was --.
Holy shit! I felt fingers in my hair. I was afraid to look; I was afraid it was my mind playing tricks on me in some fashion. I had acted out several times today; perhaps those PT's had turned me in to the hospital security officials after I had ran after them and threatened them like that. I felt it again.
I rose up turning to face Trey. Oh My God - his beautiful blue eyes were watching me; his newly healed wrist was raised so that his fingers could comb through my hair.
"Trey? Do you know me?"
"What the fuck, Tylar, of course I know you."