A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (19 page)

T
hursday morning dawned bright, with a smudge of pink glowing over the roof of the carriage house that Dat and Caleb had been working to repair.

Such a beautiful sunset. If only Dat could see it.

Although Elsie’s father had opened his eyes from time to time in the week or so since the accident, the nurses and aides told her that he could not see her. It was a reflex, they said. Elsie sensed that they were right, because when she searched for the love and care and concern that had always shined there, she found only a blank stare.

Dat’s spark was gone.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come back. Gott could heal him.

She closed the curtains on the window and looked down at herself. “Look at me, still in my nightgown.” Normally she would be dressed by now with beds made instead of mooning over a sunrise. But she was moving slow these days. Making mistakes and
forgetting things. Her thoughts were scattered like seeds in the wind, mostly from lack of sleep and worry about Dat.

And maybe she was dragging her feet because she dreaded the big meeting at the hospital. It had been more than one week since the accident, and since Dat’s condition was unchanged, the doctors thought it was time to discuss a “treatment plan for Thomas Lapp.” All the doctors who worked with Dat would be there, and they had asked that the family be present. Fanny had sent Caleb round to invite Bishop Samuel and Dave Zook, the preacher. Such good thinking on Fanny’s part. Elsie didn’t know how poor Fanny kept a clear head through all this, with her blood pressure going crazy and her husband unconscious in the hospital. Gott bless her.

And Dat … she needed to pray for Dat. As she began to get dressed Elsie searched her mind for the words, but she felt like she was groping in a dark hole. Had she used up all the words she knew to beg Gott for Dat’s safe recovery?

She would have to rely on a prayer she knew by rote. The Our Father.

With a heavy sigh, she began.
“Unser Vater in dem Himmel! Dein Name werde geheiligt …”

The hospital conference room was brimming over with people, both Amish and Englisher. Elsie recognized the medical staff who sat on one side of the table. The younger doctor, Dr. Pohawalla, checked on Dat a few times a day, and he always asked Fanny how she was doing. At one point, they had even joked that they were getting two visits for the price of one doctor. Two of the nurses, Jenny and Courtney, were there. The graying, bespectacled Dr. Stransky reminded Elsie of Bishop Samuel, with his slow, thoughtful movements and crackly voice. And the other very familiar face
on that side of the table was Dylan Monroe, who had spent a lot of time in Dat’s room, talking and waiting with the family.

Dr. Benton was speaking quietly with Fanny, his head bent down to meet her eyes when the meeting started.

“So many family members here!” Dr. Stransky threw his arms open wide in a boisterous gesture as he took in Elsie and her siblings Caleb and Emma. Even Will and Beth had been allowed to come to this meeting. Will sat straight as a stick beside Caleb, and Beth sat on Elsie’s lap due to the shortage of chairs and a touch of insecurity at all the strange faces. “It’s good to see family support,” Dr. Stransky added.

“This is small for an Amish family,” Preacher Dave pointed out. “But then, Thomas and Fanny are still working on theirs.”

Dat’s brother Jimmy and his wife, Edna, were there. Their son James was still in the hospital, and their other children had been left at home to run the orchard.

“I’m glad you all could be here.” Dr. Stransky raised his voice, demanding the attention of everyone in the room. Conversation ceased as he went on. “But I’m sorry to say, this is not an easy meeting for any of us.” He turned to Fanny. “I hope you know that, since your husband arrived here, we’ve done everything we could to help him.”

“I know that,” Fanny said. “Everyone has been good to him.”

“Thomas suffered a traumatic brain injury in last week’s auto accident,” Dr. Stransky continued. “We had hoped that when the swelling in the brain was reduced, we might see a return of function. Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened.”

“So his brain isn’t functioning anymore?” Fanny asked.

Dr. Benton put his hands in prayer position and rested his chin on his fingertips. “Our neurological tests show that he has lost both voluntary and involuntary function. He will never speak or walk again, and his body systems are beginning to shut down.”

“But he looks good and healthy,” Emma said. “I was just holding his hand, and it’s soft and warm. I think he’s far from dead.”

“Right now he looks pink and feels warm because his blood is still artificially being circulated throughout his body,” explained Dr. Benton. “But the ‘command and control’ center in the brain has shut down.”

“He’s dying?” Fanny said, her brows arched in disbelief.

“Yes.” Dr. Benton’s word hissed through the room like a snake.

Elsie felt her lower lip jut out in defiance. Dr. Benton was a kind man, but she didn’t like this negative side of him. Elsie shifted in her chair, surprised at how still Beth was keeping. Like a little angel.

In the odd silence, Emma began to cry. Will patted her shoulder, looking like a big man, and Emma reached an arm around him to hold him close. One of the nurses pushed a box of tissues over, and both Fanny and Emma grabbed a few.

The men were frowning, so stern, as if they disapproved of this whole thing.

Maybe they’re like me
, Elsie thought.
Maybe they know the doctors are wrong
.

“Thomas is in the final chapter of his life,” Dr. Stransky said. “In his condition, our goal shifts to giving him comfort and allowing him to die in a peaceful state, surrounded by family.”

Caleb tipped his hat back and faced the doctors. “How do you know this?” He pointed to his head, rotating his hand in a circle. “How do you know there are no thoughts and dreams in his head?”

“We’ve run numerous tests, Caleb.” Dr. Benton’s pale eyes were sympathetic. “Brain waves are electrical impulses that are easily detected. In your father’s case, we are not seeing any brain activity, upper or lower.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Elsie cried. “I’ve heard stories of folks in a coma who woke up weeks, even months later and they were just fine. How do you know he won’t wake up today or tomorrow … or
in two weeks and …” A sob wracked her voice, but she knew she had to fight for Dat. How could they sit here and talk about Dat as if he were already gone? How could they give up on him?

“Elsie, I understand your concern for your father.” Dr. Benton’s voice was soft now, more comforting than scientific. “If Thomas were my father, I’d be asking the exact same questions. But Thomas is not in a coma. He’s not going to wake up.”

“But, Doctor, I was there.” Elsie was not one to argue, but she could not make sense of any of this. “He was talking to me and he seemed just fine. It was just a bump on the head. Not even a drop of blood.”

“Brain trauma isn’t always apparent from the outside.” Dr. Benton held her gaze, and the sorrow she saw in his eyes frightened her. This was real. Impossible, terrible, but real. “You’re lucky that you got to speak to him before he was gone.”

She bit her lower lip and shook her head. She wasn’t lucky at all, and she didn’t believe in luck. She believed in blessings and miracles.

Fanny pressed her palms against the table, as if searching for a solid foundation. “What can we do?” she asked.

Dr. Stransky flipped open the file on the table. “I don’t suppose he had a DNR … a Do Not Resuscitate order?”

Fanny shook her head, her eyes glistening.

“I’ve never seen one in the Amish community,” Dr. Benton said. “But, in his state, we don’t need one to turn off the machine.”

“Can we do that? Turn everything off. All the electric things.” Fanny looked from the doctors to the bishop, who nodded.

“Then we’ll turn everything off and take him home,” Fanny said, firmly. “I think that’s what he would have wanted.”

“You are free to do that,” Dr. Stransky said. “But at this point he’s being kept alive by machines. Once we disconnect the breathing
apparatus, there’s a good chance he’ll stop breathing. He’ll be gone before you can get him home.”

Fanny buried her face in her hands. “Oh, dear Gott in heaven, I don’t know what to do.”

“I think I speak for the entire staff when I say that it’s the right thing to turn off the machines.” Dr. Benton paused, taking a moment to make eye contact with every Amish person in the room. “But I just want to be sure you understand that Thomas is dying. Even if you leave him on the machines, his organs will begin to fail. If you turn the machines off, well, it will happen sooner. I see that as a more dignified death.”

But Elsie didn’t want any death at all. “Samuel.” She turned to the bishop. “Is this Gott’s way? To turn off the machines and let my father die?”

Samuel’s big nose was red, his eyes glassy, and Elsie realized that he was struggling to hold in his own sadness. “It’s Gott’s plan, Elsie. We can’t understand why the Heavenly Father calls men to Him when he does. It’s something we must accept.”

Her lower lip began to wobble as tears filled her eyes. She could not argue with the bishop. She could not stop Dat from dying.

Her life was like those bright headlights. Blinding.
Verhuddelt
. Veering out of control.

She tried to remember her mother’s loving arms, her father’s warm voice. She needed someone to catch her, to stop her from falling.

But there was no one.

22

H
aley leaned away from the nurses’ station to check the door of the conference room.

Still closed.

“They’re taking a long time,” she said, clicking a pen rapidly.

“It’s not something you’d want to rush.” Aeesha jotted a few things in her notebook, then closed a chart. “Would you stop that clicking and find something to do? I hate people who finish before me.”

“Your patients were more challenging than mine today.” Haley was finished with her clinical work, but she had decided to hang around in case Elsie wanted to talk after the meeting.

She clicked and clicked as she thought of what Elsie and her family must be going through. Although she wasn’t privy to Thomas Lapp’s chart, she had heard that the repeated screenings had found no brain activity at all. Today’s meeting would be difficult for everyone involved.

Poor Elsie. When Haley had spoken with her earlier today, Elsie still maintained hope that her father would recover. Not being a doctor, Haley had kept mum on the subject. She knew the experts would communicate with the family in today’s meeting. Besides, over the past week they had gone over the science of brain function a few times.

“Did they tell you about the two parts of the brain?” Haley asked. She had boned up on her knowledge of brain function, anticipating that the family would have some questions and worries. “The brain is very complex, but sometimes doctors separate the upper and lower regions because they have very different functions. You might think of it as upstairs and downstairs. Upstairs is where the higher functions of the central nervous system take place. The ability to see, hear, taste, and smell. And our personality and intellect. Our reasoning skills.”