Love Light

She reached for the doorknob and hesitated. The single pane of frosted glass obscured the view of the family within the quiet room. She never understood why they called it the quiet room. Even in the silence you could hear and feel the screams of anguish, shock, and disbelief. She took a deep breath as she tightened her grip on the doorknob. This was the one part of her job she hated. A part she knew all too well.

She stepped into the large, bright, single room and gently closed the door. Even the floor to ceiling mural depicting an underwater scene seemed out of place in this tension-filled room. The middle-aged couple stood together with their hands tightly clasped and their tears streaked down their cheeks, staring so fiercely as if hoping to will away the words they knew were coming.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland?”

The gentleman placed his hand on his wife’s lower back. “Yes. I’m James, and this is my wife Madeleine.”

Erica extended her hand. “I’m Dr. Erica Beaumont, your daughter’s neurosurgeon.” Both parents nodded their heads in silent acknowledgment and cautiously shook her hand.Erica gestured toward the couch. “Please, have a seat, so we can talk. I understand you just arrived in town.” Erica sat on the edge of the coffee table, directly facing both parents.

Mr. Kirkland looked at his wife before turning to Erica. “We live just outside of San Diego. We’ve been driving for six hours. We just got in our car and started driving after we received the phone call from the police last night about Nicole’s accident. When we arrived at the hospital, they told us she was in the neurosurgical intensive care unit. The security guard brought us here to this waiting room. The charge nurse, Sarah, said you wanted to speak to us before we went in to see our daughter. How is she, Dr. Beaumont? How badly hurt is she?”

Erica clasped her hands together before leaning forward and resting her elbows on her thighs. “The news is not good, and I’m going to be totally honest and straightforward with you. Your daughter suffered a massive head injury in the car accident last night. The damage that was done to her brain is permanent and irreversible.” Mrs. Kirkland clutched at her chest and blinked in disbelief.

Mr. Kirkland looked from his wife to Erica. “What does that mean, permanent and irreversible? She’s still alive, isn’t she? She’s going to be okay, isn’t she? Isn’t there something we can do, surgery or medication or something? For God’s sake, she’s our only child. She called us just before she was heading to the library last night. How can this be happening?”

Erica reached forward and laid her hand on Mr. Kirkland’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but there is nothing we can do. Your daughter is brain dead. We did an EEG this morning, and there is absolutely no brain activity. The CAT scan shows the gross extent of her brain injury. We have Nicole on a ventilator, and without it your daughter would not be breathing.”