A/N: Disclaimer-we know nothing about experiencing a real-life event like this, so forgive any mistakes!
Needing You
Chapter 4
Grissom had no recollection of the drive to the hospital as he walked into the building and, in the middle of the day, the trauma center was unusually quiet—or it seemed to be as soon as he said his name. The woman at the desk pressed a hidden button that opened double doors.
"All the way back," she said, pointing through the door, and then spoke into a small microphone positioned around her face, announcing his arrival to an unseen person.
Grissom remembered his difficulty in distinguishing nurses from physicians when Will had been born and today was no different. A dozen people in scrubs of varying colors crowded around an area at the end of a long corridor. A man, taller than everyone around him, lifted his eyes as Grissom hurried toward them; stepping away from the group, he removed a glove and held out his hand.
"Mr. Grissom, I'm Dr. Tippen. We've got your wife ready for a MRI. We'll protect her abdomen—the baby—but," he stopped talking and waved a woman with a handful of papers away, "but you need to make some decisions—sign some papers. It will take a few minutes for the MRI but I'm afraid we're looking at an aneurysm. Indications—we'll know more—I don't think it's ruptured—not yet."
Grissom nodded, his brain trying to work through a fog of murkiness as he tried to process what he was hearing. His mind stumbled; his reasoning, his intuition impaired by the personal nature of what was happening.
Movement at the double doors caused the physician's eyes to shift away from Grissom; he turned to see his mother coming through the door. Quickly turning back to Dr. Tippen, the miasma in his mind lifted.
Grissom said, "Doctor, save my wife—do whatever it is you need to do, but save her."Grissom reached for his mother's hand as she came to his side. "Save her first."
The physician turned immediately, giving unneeded directions to the staff surrounding Sara. A gloved hand waved for Grissom to step forward and blue, pink, and green-clothed individuals parted without a word for him. No one stopped his hand as it caressed Sara's pale cheek or stopped his lips as he touched hers. His hand moved to her belly, shrouded in padding now. A stifled sob broke from his mouth; he could not breathe as the gurney began to move. His hand gripped the sheet covering Sara.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. The physician said, "We'll take care of her—we'll do everything we can. I'll talk to you after the MRI and you can see her again."
Grissom nodded, realizing his mother had taken his hand.
Twenty minutes passed before the doctor returned. Twenty minutes as Grissom signed form after form barely registering what each one meant as they were placed in front of him, as a nurse asked questions about Sara. He signed to his mother, seeing shock and anxiety in her face as he explained what was happening. A nurse—he was fairly certain she was a nurse—took them to a small private waiting area and, while pacing the floor, while minute after minute ticked, he heard heels clicking the floor.
No doctor, no nurse, no other person in his world walked with the rapid tattoo of his old friend and co-worker. And she seemed to know where to find him, saying as she entered the room:
"Oh, Gil. I came as soon as Nick called." Catherine Willows' arms wrapped around his shoulders. "How bad? What do you know?" She turned from Grissom and gave the same two-arm hug to his mother. "How are you, Betty?" She turned back to Grissom. "I told them I'm Sara's sister."
Wiping a hand across his face, Grissom could not say anything; Dr. Tippen walked in. The man did not smile as he sat down and spread images of Sara's brain across the small table. Holding an IPad for Grissom to see, he quickly pointed to a bulge in an area he called "the circle of Willis"—the primary blood vessels to the brain.
"There are many reasons this could occur—but right now, it needs to be stabilized." He held up two fingers. "One is to open up Sara's skull and clip the aneurysm. There is another procedure—a flow diverter—a mesh that forces the blood to flow around the aneurysm and helps it dissolve."
Interrupting him, Grissom asked, "How is Sara now?"
"She's sedated—lightly sedated. She was a little agitated when she arrived, confused, which isn't unusual. I—I don't believe she's had any permanent damage or effects from this but the ballooning is growing, almost visible as we did the MRI. Usually, in pregnancy, I would recommend postponing any procedure of this sort." The physician picked up one of the images. "I cannot suggest this be postponed because of this." He pointed to the ballooning vessel, another image on the Ipad. "See this—it's what we call a daughter—another forming from the original."
"If it were your wife…" Grissom stammered and stopped as he looked at the physician.
Catherine was frantically writing what the physician was saying so Betty could keep up.
Dr. Tippen shook his head. "I can give you statistics and experience, but I can't decide. We've got your wife's obstetric physician coming over—I believe Sara is thirty weeks pregnant."
"Almost thirty-two weeks," Grissom whispered.
The physician nodded and continued. "Thirty-two is better—should we have to make that decision. I've performed open skull surgery on pregnant women, but this is rare. I don't think we'll have to take the baby, but I don't want her going into labor."
Grissom's fingers moved across the images on the table. "If you clip it—it—what about later."
"It's major surgery. There are risks. She's in good health otherwise which is a tremendous plus. The only negative is her blood pressure is slightly elevated—which may be the reason this has happened. An old head wound or trauma may have weakened the vessel. The baby appears to be healthy—at thirty-two weeks, she would survive a premature birth." The physician continued, his voice concerned yet professional as he explained the surgery, recovery time, potential risks, the need for a scheduled delivery of the baby.
Grissom's hand went to his face at the same time Catherine made a cry and dropped her pen. Betty, realizing the conversation had changed to the baby, watched, lip-reading. She gripped Grissom's hand.
The physician quickly continued, "We will do all we can to prevent a premature birth—but it's a possibility."
"Do the surgery, Doctor," Grissom said. He reached across the table and grasped the physician's hand. "Do what needs to be done—save my wife."
The doctor nodded. "Come and see your wife. She may realize you're there—I think it helps a patient to hear a familiar voice."
When Grissom followed the physician into the room, he realized a quiet change had occurred. Emergency preparations had been replaced with purposeful motions—more monitors were at the bedside. The padding over Sara's belly had been removed and monitor leads were being attached. Sara appeared to be a frail, pale petal, motionless, among so much activity; her dark lashes lay in perfect crescents above her fair cheeks. Tears came to his eyes.
"Hello, Dr. Grissom," a soft voice said. "I'm sorry we have to see each other under these conditions."
The voice was Sara's obstetrician—a woman who had become a friend as well as trusted physician. He nodded, unable to bring thoughts into words.
"She's going to be fine. I'll be in surgery with her," the physician smiled. "We have the best neonatologist in town with us. And, if it's any comfort, Sara's condition is so rare, everyone wants to be here—the very best in Vegas." Gently, she guided Grissom toward Sara's head. "Talk to her for a few minutes. She's very lightly sedated—she'll hear you."
He passed others as if they did not exist, his hands touching her face, fingers smoothing across her forehead as he placed his mouth to her ear. He wanted to pull her into his arms, feel her hands across his shoulders. But, except for her face, her body had been taken by others—his fingertip traced across an eyebrow.
"Sara, Sara," he whispered. His voice gained strength as he said, "I love you, Sara. I don't say it enough!"
None but those nearest the patient could have seen or noticed the change, every so slight, in their patient; her blood pressure lowered, her pulse steadied, the regular beep and hum of monitors indicated a steady beat of Sara's heart.
"Keep talking," someone whispered.
Someone was combing her hair—at first, confusing Grissom until he realized the reason for the careful brushing and the purpose it served.
Grissom talked, softly telling his wife about the trip to the park—an event that seemed so long ago. He talked about painting a bedroom for their new baby, a task he had postponed for weeks, because Sara could not decide on a color.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Time to take her back."
"You will tell me…"
The obstetrician said, "Someone will come out—to keep you posted—every fifteen minutes or so. She'll have the best care available."
A woman dressed in pink scrubs guided him through a maze of doors and hallways to another small room where his mother and Catherine waited. He sat down and consciously breathed for the first time in minutes, finally saying, "I should check on Will."
"How is Sara?" Catherine asked.
Grissom blinked, almost surprised to find the two women in the room with him. "She's in surgery—Will—I left Will with Greg." He fumbled, his hands shaking as he attempted to find his phone.
"He's fine—Nick called. He's with them," Catherine said. "They—the nurse that brought us here said someone would come in with updates."
"Yeah, yes," Grissom mumbled; he turned to his mother, attempting to sign, faltering in his efforts. He said no more as his mother pulled him into an embrace, holding, gently rocking him as if he were a baby, her arms strong around his shoulders and he cried.
A/N: Thanks for reading, now do the right thing and leave a review! More to come...