You fell off your horse, Twig. You bumped your head pretty good, and you sprained your wrist. You must be tough though, because from what I hear, it was a nasty fall, and that’s all that happened.” Dr. Young paused. “Now, it was a severe sprain, so I want that cast on there for about three weeks.”
“But why this needle? Why am I here? Is Sapphire okay?” Twig began to look at the room around her while Avery fed her another ice chip. Everything was foreign. The sheets in the bed were stiff and itchy. The lights were blinding and a strange shade of greenish-yellow. Hard, cold-looking tile covered the floor. The walls were painted a sterile white and looked oddly glossy.
“Twig, we were giving you oxygen to help you breathe. That was the mask. It was temporary, and you don’t need it anymore. This wild-looking tube coming out of your arm is called an IV. It’s how we are making sure you get enough water, and it’s giving you medication today. I can take that out soon, too. Okay?”
Twig nodded. She was beginning to feel more comfortable with this man. He seemed kind. “But is Sapphire okay?”
“She’s fine, Twig,” Avery said reassuringly.
“Now, I’m not going to lie to you,” Dr. Young continued. “You took it pretty good on the noggin.” Avery was shaking her head at the doctor. “Head,” he corrected himself. “You hit your head hard when you fell, causing a very small bleed called a subdural hematoma.” Twig felt her stomach tighten with fear. “But,” the doctor continued, sensing her alarm, “it was minor. How are we doing so far?”
“Will I have brain damage?”
“No, dear. Your family did the right thing by bringing you in right away. You’re going to be fine. You are going to have to rest and take some medication for a while, but you are going to be fine. I hear you like yoga.”
Twig nodded.
“In about three weeks, when you get the cast off, if you’re feeling well, you can go back to light yoga. And I want you up and about in the next two weeks. How does that sound?”
“Okay,” Twig said tentatively. She was scared. Scared for her brain, scared of the hospital and of the doctor, even though he seemed so nice.
“In the morning, we are going to repeat the CT, which is a scan that lets us see what’s going on inside your head, and I am going to need to see you back here in a month to do another scan.”
Twig heard Avery sigh.
“Will that be a problem?” The doctor asked, glancing toward the door.
Avery was silent for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”
Dr. Young eyed Avery. “Listen, I am going to give you my card. If there is a problem, please call me.”
Avery nodded but didn’t say anything. Twig noticed how unhappy she looked.
“Are you okay, Mom?” she asked. Avery looked at Twig and grabbed her hand. “I’m fine, Twig. Let’s just concentrate on you.”
“Can I sleep now? I’m very tired.”
“Of course,” the doctor replied.
16
Twig woke to the sound of people arguing.
“Another night? You said it was a small bleed. This morning’s scan was fine.” Doc was speaking with Dr. Young.
Adam was pacing furiously back and forth in the confines of the small white room. One hand seemed permanently lodged in his thick, dark hair. Twig had no idea how long she had been sleeping.
“I need to make sure it is resolving and not getting worse. I also want her here for observation. She is still in danger of seizures, and I need to make sure she responds to the medication.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Doc answered the doctor dismissively.
“The girl has had brain trauma,” the doctor answered sternly.
“Look, I am a doctor,” Doc explained. “I can take care of her. If she has any problems, I’ll bring her back. Please discharge her this evening.”
“Exactly what kind of doctor are you? Where did you get your degree?”
“I am a doctor of psychiatric medicine, and, not that it is any of your business, I got my degree at the
“But why this needle? Why am I here? Is Sapphire okay?” Twig began to look at the room around her while Avery fed her another ice chip. Everything was foreign. The sheets in the bed were stiff and itchy. The lights were blinding and a strange shade of greenish-yellow. Hard, cold-looking tile covered the floor. The walls were painted a sterile white and looked oddly glossy.
“Twig, we were giving you oxygen to help you breathe. That was the mask. It was temporary, and you don’t need it anymore. This wild-looking tube coming out of your arm is called an IV. It’s how we are making sure you get enough water, and it’s giving you medication today. I can take that out soon, too. Okay?”
Twig nodded. She was beginning to feel more comfortable with this man. He seemed kind. “But is Sapphire okay?”
“She’s fine, Twig,” Avery said reassuringly.
“Now, I’m not going to lie to you,” Dr. Young continued. “You took it pretty good on the noggin.” Avery was shaking her head at the doctor. “Head,” he corrected himself. “You hit your head hard when you fell, causing a very small bleed called a subdural hematoma.” Twig felt her stomach tighten with fear. “But,” the doctor continued, sensing her alarm, “it was minor. How are we doing so far?”
“Will I have brain damage?”
“No, dear. Your family did the right thing by bringing you in right away. You’re going to be fine. You are going to have to rest and take some medication for a while, but you are going to be fine. I hear you like yoga.”
Twig nodded.
“In about three weeks, when you get the cast off, if you’re feeling well, you can go back to light yoga. And I want you up and about in the next two weeks. How does that sound?”
“Okay,” Twig said tentatively. She was scared. Scared for her brain, scared of the hospital and of the doctor, even though he seemed so nice.
“In the morning, we are going to repeat the CT, which is a scan that lets us see what’s going on inside your head, and I am going to need to see you back here in a month to do another scan.”
Twig heard Avery sigh.
“Will that be a problem?” The doctor asked, glancing toward the door.
Avery was silent for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”
Dr. Young eyed Avery. “Listen, I am going to give you my card. If there is a problem, please call me.”
Avery nodded but didn’t say anything. Twig noticed how unhappy she looked.
“Are you okay, Mom?” she asked. Avery looked at Twig and grabbed her hand. “I’m fine, Twig. Let’s just concentrate on you.”
“Can I sleep now? I’m very tired.”
“Of course,” the doctor replied.
16
Twig woke to the sound of people arguing.
“Another night? You said it was a small bleed. This morning’s scan was fine.” Doc was speaking with Dr. Young.
Adam was pacing furiously back and forth in the confines of the small white room. One hand seemed permanently lodged in his thick, dark hair. Twig had no idea how long she had been sleeping.
“I need to make sure it is resolving and not getting worse. I also want her here for observation. She is still in danger of seizures, and I need to make sure she responds to the medication.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Doc answered the doctor dismissively.
“The girl has had brain trauma,” the doctor answered sternly.
“Look, I am a doctor,” Doc explained. “I can take care of her. If she has any problems, I’ll bring her back. Please discharge her this evening.”
“Exactly what kind of doctor are you? Where did you get your degree?”
“I am a doctor of psychiatric medicine, and, not that it is any of your business, I got my degree at the
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