Justin Mark Campbell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likefatherlikeson) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2023-05-17 10:37 pm
likefatherlikeson) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2023-05-17 10:37 pm
"Don't You (Forget About Me)..."
Who: Justin Campbell, Sasha Stanford, and Mark Campbell with Martin and Mhari Stanford
What: "Slow change may pull us apart."
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this and this
The last couple of days were a blur. Yet again, Justin had no concept of time passing and was extremely concept of a lot chaos and movement going on around him, but his mind couldn’t keep up with everything. Although it was clear Sash had technically ‘woken up’ or ‘regained consciousness’, he hadn’t really been awake or conscious. He was just no longer in a coma and he was breathing on his own with the support of oxygen.
But it was okay. Justin knew that waking up from something like this, it was nothing like general waking up from sleep. At least with the shit he had gone through in his life, he had understanding of medical treatment and what it could mean to be seriously unwell in hospital, so that part wasn’t scaring him. He knew Sash was in excellent hands and he was glad they were letting him still sit with Sash, even though there was a lot more activity around him he was being monitored for any change in his condition. It was the not actually ‘waking up’ that was terrifying.
At first, all Sash really seemed to do that was different to when he was in the coma was open his eyes a little and every time Justin tucked his fingers underneath Sash’s, he did sort of take his hand, though it was weak. They considered that a response to stimuli, though. Any response was better than none. They encourage Justin and Sash’s parents to both keep talking to him because they still couldn’t be sure if it was Justin’s voice or singing that Sash originally responded to.
And then something began to change the evening before. Justin had been close to falling asleep sitting with Sash after a really difficult physical therapy session in the afternoon. He was in pain and not feeling good but trying his best to stick it out at Sash’s side before the nurses insisted he return to his bed. When he felt that slight movement of Sash’s fingers in his hand, he jolted awake and found that Sash was looking him, albeit with heavy eyes and it was difficult to tell if he could actually see him. When Justin said his name and squeezed his hand softly to try to get any sort of response, Sash blinked and turned his head towards where his mom was standing at the other side of his bed. When he saw her, he started to cry with a fragile, weak sob of, “Mom.” It was barely lucid and coherent but it was unmistakable.
Yet, it was as far as things progressed and after he slipped back out of consciousness once again in his mom’s arms, nothing else had come since and it was now more than twenty-four hours later. Justin was glad his dad had been there earlier because it wasn’t a good day and he was feeling that heavy, being dragged through the mud sensation that came when his depression was starting to take a steady hold. He basically cried through most of the physical therapy session that day and the remaining time, he spent apologising to the physio for being a terrible patient. Thankfully, his dad was there and helped him push through with the exercises, explaining to the physio that everything was a hundred times more difficult to get through on his bad days. It was one of those days Justin was struggling to feel like anything could possibly get better or fixed when it was all as broken and damaged as it was now.
It was after physio that he had crashed out without intending to. They gave him additional painkillers because they had moved beyond simple, easy movements to keep his legs and hips pliant and had progressed to targeting the areas around the injury sites to strengthen them. The pain during the session had been so bad, he puked, so it probably wasn’t surprising it all got too much and led to him bawling his eyes out in his dad’s arms. Pain made everything so much worse and so much more difficult and that definitely wasn’t isolated to physical pain. It was around dinner time he woke again but wasn’t hungry and all he wanted to do was get back to Sash. When he heard there hadn’t been any further progress — Sash hadn’t been awake at all the whole time Justin was away from the room — he agreed to let them help him take a shower, which was definitely a plus to no longer being isolated in bed. Not being able to stand or walk, though, was one of the hardest things he’d had to face, which was saying something. Being a professional dancer, the fear he might not dance again was beginning to creep in and take root in his mind. Sash waking had proven a worthy distraction from those overthinking black holes taking over.
This time, Justin was listening to music with his AirPods in, his and yet again loosely cupped around Sash’s, his fingers gently drumming Sash’s fingers in time to the beat of the melody. He felt a little better after some sleep and a shower but he was wiped out from… well, just about everything. It was hard to hold his head up, so he was propping it up with his hand. A little while ago, Sash’s mom, Mhari, brought Justin a blanket and tucked it in over his legs for him. He was glad Sash’s parents could both finally be here too, especially when the first time Sash seemed to be conscious of something around him, he was crying for his mom. Justin’s heart was aching. Just when it felt like it couldn’t hurt more, it always found a proverbial ‘Hold my beer’ way.
Then suddenly, Sash’s hand was gone and Justin’s stomach dropped as he lifted his head to see Sash was awake and looking at him taking his hand from Justin’s and holding it against his chest. It was the most awake he had been since that first moment a few days ago and it was a look Justin had never seen before. He couldn’t explain it and at first, he just froze, scared to move in case Sash suddenly crash again and everything was ripped away. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and he didn’t want to wish this meant Sash would heal and make a full recovery. All it meant was that — for the first time since the horrible day Justin woke in a smashed car to Sash lifeless and mangled behind the wheel and covered in blood — Sash was unmistakenly looking at him and seeing him.
“S—Sash…? It’s me, baby. I’m here. Can you hear me?” Justin murmured, wanting to try to take Sash’s hand again to squeeze it, to show him he really was there. But why had he taken his hand away? Was it purposeful, was it a reflex? Justin didn’t know anything and couldn’t read any of this and he felt a teary unsteadiness seeping through him. “I love you so much,” he added, the choked words catching through a sharp intake of breath.
Sasha blinked but he kept staring at Justin until his eyes darted around, like he was looking for something or someone. When his gaze finally fell to his mom who had returned to the room just as Sasha was coming-to again. “M… M..om… i—is… that… is h—he…” He was struggling to get words out and something that looked like frustration briefly passed his features and his other hand was blindly feeling for his mom’s to anchor to.
Mhari quickly put her coffee down and stepped up to take her only child’s hand but she couldn’t help looking over at Justin in concern. “It’s okay, my darling. Take your time. You’ve been in an accident, sweetheart. You’ve had a nasty bump to your head. You’re in hospital. I know it feels bad. You don’t have to be scared. Mom and Dad are both right here.”
It took a few moments, but Sash slowly blinked a few times like he was trying to clear his head or his vision and soon focused on his mom’s face and his grip on her hand tightened. It was the most motor skill he had exhibited since he woke. She wrapped both her hands around his and leaned over, kissing his fingers. His other hand was still nursed against his chest in a loose fist and once again, his gaze was on Justin. “Am… I dead?”
Justin didn’t know if he should say anything. He didn’t even know if Sash was talking to him. But it was a valid question. One Justin had asked a time or two himself when coming around after being unconscious. It wasn’t always easy to tell when your head hurt and you had no fucking idea where you were or what happened. So, he didn’t say anything. He just sat there with tears threatening, using every ounce of control he had left not to burst into tears.
“No, darling, you’re not dead. You’re still here with us,” Mhari assured him softly.
“I—Is that… him…? I d—don’t… I… Mom… why… why is here?” Sasha’s breathing quickly and he tried to take his hand from his mom’s and he turned his head, trying to see beyond the two people he had been able to see near him. But he was dazed and groggy, the mere act of trying to look around disorienting him and making him feel sick. “A—Andi. Come back… Andi… i—it’s… too bright.” He whimpered and put his hand up over his eyes, where some tears spilled down his cheeks.
Every fibre in Justin felt like it iced over hearing Sash’s words and his stomach gave a sick lurch not only hearing them but seeing how distressed Sash was starting to get. “He doesn’t know me,” he gasped, shaking his head. “He thinks Andi’s here.”
Mhari was searching her son’s face quickly for any sign indicating what was going on in his damaged head. “I think he does know you, sweetie. He just doesn’t know why you’re here. He’s confused, that’s all.”
“Why would he not know why I’m here?!” Justin was still shaking his head, wishing he could get up and run away but he was stuck and it was causing panic to burst up inside him.
Mhari didn’t hesitate in reaching over to hit the nurse call button. “Justin, sweetheart, let me call your dad to come, okay? They said he could be confused and it might take time for him to get his bearings.” When the nurse entered the room, she stroked the backs of her fingers over Sash’s cheek to try to soothe him but she knew there was little she could do to reassure Justin of anything. “He’s been talking a little more but he’s very confused,” she told the nurse.
In a brief flurry of activity, the nurse had given Sasha an injection of something to calm him and had the consulting neurologist paged. Justin had pulled right back and his whole posture stiffened, hugging his arms around himself like it was physically painful not to be able to touch Sash or that he could break him if he accidentally tried. After a quick text from Mhari, Mark hurried back to the ICU where he had been sitting in the cafeteria clearing some of his backlog of work emails. Martin, who had been parked in his wheelchair in the corner of the room out of the way witnessing everything that just happened tried to fill Mark in the best he could while the medical staff attended to Sasha and the neurologist arrived to assess him.
Mark stood behind Justin a short distance away from the bed so they weren’t in the way, rubbing his shoulders to try to get him to de-escalate even just a little but there was no way in hell he could do more than that. Not until there was some sort of confirmation of what was happening with Sasha. The only problem was, Sash was struggling to communicate lucidly. But the kid had a serious brain injury. What was playing out could well be an indicator of the level of damage sustained and that was terrifying as all hell to hear. For Justin, it had to be crushing the little hope he had been struggling to hold on to.
The neurologist, Dr Palmer, who was a brain injury specialist, was sitting on a stool beside the bed after performing some initial neurological exams once the medication kicked in and Sasha’s own panic and distress had dialled down. There was more response with sensory stimuli and motor function than the previous days, but obvious significant neurological and cognitive dysfunction. Sasha’s responses with the examination indicated that he knew his name but not a whole lot else without prompting. Even then, a lot of the prompts were met with blank stares or difficulty getting coherent sentences out or struggling with words, which were flat and monotone. “Sasha, where was the last place you remember being?”
Sasha’s eyes were heavy and he watched the doctor’s mouth as he spoke, almost like he was waiting for her to tell him what the answer should be. He closed his eyes and started to say something but stopped and took more time to get the words out. “The… at… the lake. On the… um… with the water. The wood… in the…” He scrunched his face up.
“Do you know where the lake is?” Dr Palmer asked.
“Vermont. And… the sun.”
Justin made a tiny whimpering sound before he could stop it from escaping but muffled it with his hands so he didn’t distract Sash. He knew this was important but it was so painful to have to watch, Justin felt a physical burning ache in his chest. They hadn’t been to their Vermont lake house in ages and even then, Justin had purchased via a trust from Andi’s parents when they found it too painful with memories to hold on to. They were overjoyed it ultimately ended up being adopted by Justin and Sasha, the first thing Justin requested to invest in, in both his and Sash’s names. His dad gave his shoulder a little reassuring squeeze. Justin turned his face in against his dad’s arm.
Dr Palmer briefly scrawled something in her notes on the iPad she was holding with her stylus. “How old are you, Sasha?”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed and his forehead creased, but instead of saying anything, he lowered his gaze and didn’t say anything for a good couple of minutes. Eventually, the only response that came was a slight shake of his head.
“That’s okay. We can work on that one later. Can you see my pen here, Sasha?” Dr Palmer held up her pen to draw Sasha’s attention and line of sight back to her. Then she pointed to Justin with the pen. “Do you know who this young man is?”
Justin sucked in his breath and held it, fumbling for his dad’s hand and gripping it. When Sash looked at him this time, all he wanted to do was pull him into his arms and hold him. He wanted to tell him none of this mattered and it would all be okay. Lies, sure, but he desperately wanted to do anything to help Sash feel better and stop all his pain. He just hated the way he was looking at him. It was empty, like something was gone.
Sasha frowned, back to watching the doctor’s mouth. “Who?”
“The young man sitting in the wheelchair, just behind me here. He’s wearing a purple sparkly bathrobe,” Dr Palmer elaborated, purposefully drawing attention to the robe because Mark had mentioned it was a gift to Justin from Sasha during one of his hospital admissions.
“You… see him? He’s… I—I thought… he was… Um…” Sasha put his hand to his head. “Why is he here?”
“He’s visiting you. Do you know who he is, Sasha?” Dr Palmer repeated.
And then there was something akin to a hint of a smile that flickered at the corners of Sash’s mouth when he looked at Justin again before he murmured, “Ren.” He paused, frowning a little and holding a hand up. “N—No, I mean… dance. J— J… Campbell. No shoes.” He scrunched his face up again, struggling to say something else but it was taking a lot to get there. “Bueller.”
At any other time, this probably would’ve been hilarious and Justin would’ve thought the whole delivery could’ve made some sort of spoof or comedy skit about him. But it wasn’t funny and he started to feel sick, a cold sweat prickling his skin when a wave of scattered emotions felt like they just punched him in the face and gut. “He doesn’t remember,” he said through a small sob, looking up at his dad. “I want to go. I feel sick. Dad, take me back.”
Mark brushed his hand over Justin’s hair but his son flinched away from the touch, which was indicative that Justin’s mental state was slipping. He met Dr Palmer’s gaze. “I’ll take him back to his room.”
“I’ll come in and have a chat soon,” Dr Palmer promised and turned her attention back to Sasha.
Kicking off the brakes on the wheelchair, Mark met Mhari’s gaze across the room and saw tears in her eyes, her hand resting on her chest. Whatever the hell they had been trying to brace for waiting for Sasha to regain consciousness, this definitely wasn’t it.
= = = = =
It was a couple of hours before Dr Palmer came to Justin’s room with his iPad. That was understandable, Mark expected his assessment of Sash’s current condition to take time. There was nothing simple about it and he would’ve had to consult with other doctors on Sash’s care team. Justin completely shutdown on Mark and didn’t want to be touched. He just sat and sobbed his heart out and all Mark could do was sit there next to him. This was one of those horrible parenting moments where you felt helpless, useless, and a failure all at once because there wasn’t anything you could do to stop the pain your kid was in. He had been here with Justin many times but this time, there was a whole other level to it. It had nothing to do with Justin’s mental health or trauma. It didn’t even have anything to do with his own health, though all of the above was impacting on how he was copping this latest blow. It was just an awful situation completely out of anyone’s control.
There had been many warnings that they couldn’t know how Sash would be if he woke up. It had been an ‘if’ for so long that the fact he did regain consciousness had been against the odds. Then it was what the result of the brain injury would be. Would he have long-term effects or permanent disability from the brain injury? Was this a memory thing or just because his brain was still healing? So many awful scenarios rolled through Mark’s mind as he sat there listening to his son sobbing. He didn’t know how to keep Justin’s head above water anymore. At least he had medication, so by the time Dr Palmer came to talk to them, Justin had stopped crying but it was hard to tell if he was still emotionally receptive, until he spoke when Dr Palmer pulled a chair up to sit with them.
“He doesn’t know about us, does he?” Justin asked, feeling cold and almost numb. “He saw one of my early performances with his best friend, Andi, and they were in Central Park the day of the Ferri Bueller charity flashmob. Years ago. And Andi’s dead now. He thought he was imagining me sitting beside him.”
Dr Palmer folded his hands over the top of this iPad resting in his lap. “He was asking if you were okay after you left. But it is evident that he is suffering from something called Post-Traumatic Amnesia, which can happen following a traumatic brain injury that results in a period of coma. We have to bear in mind that Sasha did sustain a significant head injury in the accident but there was also the burst aneurysm, so dual trauma to his brain. There was also surgery to stem the bleeding. That means a lot of interference and injury to his brain at once. Yes, he’s progressing and the fact he’s come through the coma with a level of consciousness to his surroundings is positive. But his brain needs time to heal and he’s going to need rehabilitation to have a fighting chance of recovering functioning. We can’t know just yet what level his functioning has been impacted. It’ll be a lot of monitoring and assessing him in the coming days and weeks. Patients can and do recover from Post-Traumatic Amnesia but it’s a waiting game.”
“Please, just tell me he knows Andi died,” Justin begged, hugging his arms around himself. “You don’t have to… I know amnesia, okay? I get it. I have dissociative amnesia. It’s not the same but I still get what you’re trying to… ease into here. I might be fucked in the head but I don’t need everything spelled out. He’s had really bad head injuries, now he can’t remember shit. It’ll take time to see if he can get better but there’s always a chance he can’t and all this is just… it. Please, just… I need to know if I just have to leave him be. The last thing I want to do is to scare him or freak him out in any way. Especially if you’re about to tell me he has to go through losing Andi all over again.”
“Sasha doesn’t seem to have any recollection of knowing you on a personal or intimate level, Justin. But it is more likely to be a fact he has lost memory from a specific point in time rather than only forgetting you or your relationship. He thinks he lives in Boston with his parents and he can’t grasp that he’s the patient in hospital. He thinks he’s here visiting Andi. But if he has a recollection of seeing one of your Broadway performances with Andi and also your Ferris Bueller performance, his folks tell me that likely places his memory point just prior to meeting you and before Andi’s passing. It seems he did think he was just imagining you being here but it’s likely more a complicated result of how memories form in the brain and the area he sustained the injuries. His subconscious is aware you’re not solely a long-term memory only. He’s conscious of your presence but his injured brain is misreading the signal as a memory, in a sense. That is where it stands today. It’s going to change and shift as his brain heals more and more, that’s when we will get a clearer picture of what incapacity he may have from moderate to long-term. For now, we focus on his functioning now and address what we know and what his responses are telling us. That’s the neurological,” Dr Palmer told them, pausing momentarily. “The physical and emotional also need to be considered. Sasha has just had another brief seizure that was preceded by a significant sudden headache. There’s still inflammation on the brain, which could be causing the amnesiac symptoms so as that begins to heal, his memory might show signs of recovery. Again, it’s going to take time and just taking condition as it comes. I’m sure that’s something both of you more than understand. You don’t need me to repeat that side of things ad-nauseum. But feel free to ask me any questions.”
“Has he got epilepsy?” Mark asked, knowing it would be where Justin’s mind went sooner rather than later because of what he knew of Jace. “Is he okay after the seizure? We have a family friend that sustained a traumatic brain injury as a child and it left him with epilepsy. Absence seizures. I know it’s something Jus has been worrying about since we were told Sash was having seizures in the coma.”
“We don’t believe so at this point but we can’t rule it out yet. The seizures do seem to be stemming from the remaining inflammation and they’re reducing in severity as it heals. I’m hopeful they’ll resolve when the injuries heal more. They’re being caused by the location of the aneurysm, which I’ll explain to you in more detail when you’re ready, Justin. That’s one part of Sash’s condition that will need long-term management and may have been causing him neurological symptoms for some time before the acute rupture of the aneurysm. Or I can leave you some information to read in your own time,” Dr Palmer offered.
Justin nodded, wetting his lips. “Yes, please,” he said quietly, doing his best to take all this in but it was really hard. “Am I still allowed to sit with him or is it just better I stay away? Until… if his memory gets better. Is there a chance it’s just l gone for good?”
“It’s very unlikely he won’t recover some of the memories at least. Perhaps he’ll begin to remember further along in time or it could come back in bursts or patches. It’s the when. Some patients can take months to recover what the amnesia is blocking. Sometimes longer. But other patients start to recover memories within weeks of the acute injuries healing. I’ve given him something to sleep tonight and my team and I will re-assess him in the morning. It might be a good idea for you to do the same, Justin. You’ve had a shock and we need to make sure you’re protected also,” Dr Palmer reminded him gently. “The best way I think to tackle this at least in the coming days is to tell him that you, Justin Campbell the Broadway performer, is visiting him. It will keep that emotional link for both of you but it won’t be easy. It will mean you going into the place his mind can cope with so far, if you think you can manage that. I think we need to hold off re-traumatising him with Andi’s death. He may recover the memory himself. But bear in mind, it will be an ever-changing situation as we closely monitor him. He might wake up with a completely different set of responses.”
Justin rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “He’s done that for me more times than I can count. Of course, I can manage it for him. Even if it feels like everything inside me is burning. Fuck.” He started to tear up again but wasn’t sure he had the strength for another sob-fest. But what else was there left to do? “What the hell do I say to him when he asks me why me, the Broadway performer, is fucking randomly visiting him for some reason?”
“Just tell him the truth, kiddo. That Andi had Make-a-Wish arrange it but he had an accident and it changed everything, so you thought he could use company instead. I don’t think he’s well enough to rationalise and reason the finer details?” Mark looked to the doctor for clarification. He knew they would all have to be on board with how to tackle this so Sash didn’t get more confused and freaked out. They had done this type of thing with Justin when he had been seriously unwell. He hated that he had experience with how to handle it.
“The finer details? Like the fact he didn’t even know he was gay back then? Or the fact I’m in a wheelchair and can’t stand or move?” Justin’s head was hurting, feeling like it was way too overloaded with thoughts he couldn’t sort out or rationalise himself. It had to feel a thousand times worse for Sash, who couldn’t even process that he was the person in hospital. “Do I just tell him I’m cosplaying a disabled person and hope he’s cool with it? Sorry, I just… I’m gonna fuck it all up. I fuck everything up. How do I even…? I mean, is he struggling to put words together or has he forgotten words also? I want to understand so I can help him but it feels like I’m going to mess it up and hurt him. I don’t want to hurt him. I just don’t know how to pretend he’s… we’re… nothing.”
Dr Palmer gave a little wave of his hand. “You can’t hurt him, Justin. I promise you that. One of the most important things for a person coming around from a coma is familiarity and having people who love them around them. Sasha’s brain isn’t functioning yet at a capacity to make a lot of emotional connections or even process information he’s receiving in a usual way. Those sorts of neurological processing and functioning will hopefully improve gradually but it won’t be a quick process. You both have time to adapt to this new and scary situation. What you’re seeing with his words and trying to speak is something we call dysphasia, which means there’s a disruption in the ability of a brain to form links between language and thought. In very simple terms, the part of his brain that is injured controls those links between having a thought and communicating it via speech. It’s not that he has forgotten the words, it’s that at this point, his brain can’t ascertain what he’s trying to say. For patients with dysphasia, they may not be able to draw on the words they’re looking for or might use incorrect words. They might not be able to get words out at all or it could just be sounds or hand gestures. Our job now is to assess what his responses are meaning and how they can give us a clue into just what is going on with his brain following the injuries, now he is able to communicate with us.”
“As we know, the brain is a complex and complicated organ that sends the signals to the rest of our body on what to do,” the doctor continued. “If parts of the brain have been injured, those signals are disrupted and don’t operate how they should. It’s not vastly different to how a mental illness impacts on brain functioning. Psychological injury can share symptoms with neurological injury. You understand first-hand that your symptoms are responses you can’t control or dictate when your brain isn’t functioning properly. Though, while something like this is understandably very distressing for the patient and for their loved ones to experience, it gives us a lot of information to work with to determine how to treat them and rehabilitate them with their injuries. It won’t be easier for you to cope with knowing he doesn’t have an awareness of your love and relationship, let alone any memories he shares with you, but don’t underestimate what it was that had you both falling in love back then. Those things are still inside you and I know will bring Sasha comfort as he fights this. The answer perhaps could be that we tell him you were in the car accident together, because he met you for Andi’s Make-a-Wish request. That means he won’t feel so alone as a patient recovering from an accident and you won’t have to pretend you’re not struggling while you heal too. But beyond that, just be yourself. Talk to him as if you’re getting to know each other again. He knows who you are, he’s a fan of your work. Listening to you and talking with you will be extremely therapeutic for his recovery. Having time together as you heal will be therapeutic for you both. Do you think you could cope with being that for him? If you don’t think so, it’s okay. We’re not here to risk your own wellbeing and recovery if it’s too overwhelming.”
Justin looked over at his dad, feeling for his hand to hold, even if he had pulled back from physical touch for a bit there. Mark took his and with his other hair, combed Justin’s hair back from his face to try to comfort him. “You’re not letting him down if you say it’s too much at the moment, Jus. He wouldn’t want you to make yourself more unwell. You might be an actor but this isn’t acting. This will be trying to ration those things that come so very naturally to you because you love him.”
“What if he never remembers any of it? What if the memories don’t come back? I can hear the things you’re saying, doctor. I understand how doctors talk, without certainties or promises. You can’t say he will get better, just that most people with this do recover some or all of the memory lost. But you can’t tell me that’s absolutely guaranteed, can you? If he’s permanently brain-injured, there’s a chance he won’t be the same person anymore, isn’t there? If the injuries can’t fully heal, it can change people’s personalities.” Justin squeezed the corners of his eyes with a soft moan of frustration at himself. Even if it felt like his entire world had stopped and slammed into a wall, his brain was trying to kick into an overdrive of panic and anxiety that he couldn’t do what Sash needed him to.
“It’s far too soon to think in the most catastrophic of outcomes. There are many steps we need to work through before we even begin to consider that. That he is communicating with some level of coherence and he’s forming some coherent thoughts and responses to questions he’s being asked is a good sign. But yes, you are correct. Any brain injury, small or significant, can alter a person’s personality. I wish I could reassure you that won’t be the case but it’s only Sasha who will be able to indicate whether that is a long-term concern. You’re one of the closest people to him, who has interacted with him on a private an intimate level. You’ll be best placed to indicate to us if he’s showing signs of that. But we have to give him the time to get a little more healing and recovery under his belt. How he is now won’t be how he is in a week, a month, even a year down the track. An accident this serious has long-term effects on everyone.” Dr Palmer patted his laptop screen. “How about you read the information leaflets I’ll get printed out for you and write down any questions you might have. Don’t decide anything now. Think on it again in the morning after you’ve had a sleep. It’s easy to fear the worst of all possible outcomes after having a shock.”
Justin was chewing his thumbnail. “Doc, I have mixed bipolar and C-PTSD. I’m never not suicidal. My whole life is thinking in catastrophic outcomes. But thank you for being so patient and explaining it to me in ways I can understand when it frankly feels like my head has been nothing but fucked since I landed in this place. Can you… if Sash’s parents are okay with it… talk to a neurologist friend we have back home? His little brother is brain-injured and he explains medical stuff to me in ways I can get my head around. I get the whole, um… confidentiality, next-of-kin stuff. They know Evan. It should be okay but if they don’t want it, that’s okay.”
“Jus, you’re engaged—”
Justin held his hand up to his dad before he could continue. “Dad, he doesn’t know me as that. It’s not right for me to make any decisions. Martin and Mhari need to this time. I know what Sash’s legal papers say but I can’t have any say in anything important until… if… he knows about our relationship again. Evan’s a brain injury specialist. I want to be able to talk to him about how I should be dealing with this. That’s all.”
“I’d be happy to consult with him. New York-based? Is it Dr Evan Turner at Mount Sinai? I’ve attended neuro conferences with him over the years. Know a little of his background. I think it would be very helpful for you to talk to someone who has cared for brain-injured family members, Justin. I don’t think Mr and Mrs Stanford would have any issues with consenting to that. They’re concerned for you,” Dr Palmer told Justin with a gentle, sympathetic smile. “Sash’s brain might be struggling with memory but theirs aren’t. You’re still their future son-in-law.”
“I’ll have a chat with them and get a consent in writing drawn up.” Mark understood how much Justin was trying to protect Sash here, even despite the fact they both had legal documents drawn up after they got engaged that ensured that, in the event either of them were medically and/or mentally incapacitated, they would both be kept fully informed of all decisions involving their care. Sash would want him to have some weight in the discussions about his care taking place. Justin just didn’t trust himself emotionally with something that significant. He didn’t want to feel like he was betraying him.
“Evan’s fiancé has cared for me loads when I’ve been in the ICU. I trust them both. If we ever get back home finally, I know that Evan would take Sash’s case. That is if…” Justin couldn’t even finish the sentence and pressed his tightly closed fist to his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed. It was like his head just forgot how to work. Maybe he was going out in sympathy or he hit the emotional wall so hard, it had collapsed on top of him.
Mark put his hand on Justin’s shoulder. “I need to pull dad rank here now. I think it’s time to try to get a bit of rest, son. You heard the doctor, Sash’s been given something so he’ll sleep. You won’t be any use to him if you can’t function yourself and it sounds like it’s crucial that you’re able to be there to help ground him in some familiarity. It’ll be a lot of emotional hard work. You can’t do that on an empty tank.”
Dr Palmer hummed in agreement. “It would be a good idea to get you linked up with a counsellor or social worker who specialises in supporting family members of brain—”
“No. Fuck. No. No more counsellors. I don’t want to talk to anyone new. I’ve talked to enough new people. I just want to go back to bed and be left alone.” Justin put both his hands up. “No, seriously, please if I keep trying to do this now I’m going to hurl. No more. Not now.”
Mark knew that if Justin got to the point of actually spelling out repeatedly that he couldn’t take something anything further, that he actually reached that point quite some time ago and was now beyond the point of no return. The times he would probably try to run away or harm himself, so he was glad he was safe for the moment. He was still monitored around the clock because he had physical complications from his injuries and wasn’t healed enough to be able to move without assistance otherwise it could go from ‘at risk’ to serious consequences quickly. “We’ll get the nurses to come help you back to bed, son. I’ll have a chat with Sash’s folks about medical consent for Justin to be kept informed. Thanks for taking some time to come explain things, doctor. We know these situations are complex, at best.”
Dr Palmer rose and shook hands with Mark. “I’ll chat with the nurses to come tend to him and check what he’s charted for to help him sleep. If either of you have any further questions about anything or my staff or I can help, you can just call my office which is on Level 3 or let the staff know and I can drop by on my next rounds. If I’m not here or the Brain Injury Unit, I work out of the Rehab wing in the next block over. Justin, you should know that all things considered, you’re holding up better than even some perfectly healthy adults in your same position. You don’t have to do anything you don’t think you’re well enough to face. It’s important not to forget two people were seriously injured in the accident. Your own rehabilitation is going to be as difficult as Sash’s.”
Justin thanked the doctor for her help before she left but his words were barely audible. He’d hit a wall and couldn’t face the thought of trying to listen and understand anymore words, let alone talk more himself, was crushing but that didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful to Sash’s specialist and the fact she was clearly at the top of her field here in Australia. Doctors were one group of people he trusted because they had saved his life and pulled him back from devastating long-term self-harm damage many times. But his own recovery and rehabilitation was so desperately below where he held Sash’s that it was just all too much to process. He did the best he could but he hadn’t anticipated Sash could be in such a scary place if he got to the point he was well enough to wake up. He understood brain injuries from what he knew of Jace but the enormity of it being Sash and realising it might mean thing would never be remotely close to how their life was together before? He almost couldn’t breathe, the emotional crushing sensation was so devastating and through all that, he had to figure out how to pretend he was no longer in love with Sash to chat to him like he was any other fan who didn’t have potentially lifelong neurological incapacity - somefuckinghow.
LOG, COMPLETE
What: "Slow change may pull us apart."
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this and this
The last couple of days were a blur. Yet again, Justin had no concept of time passing and was extremely concept of a lot chaos and movement going on around him, but his mind couldn’t keep up with everything. Although it was clear Sash had technically ‘woken up’ or ‘regained consciousness’, he hadn’t really been awake or conscious. He was just no longer in a coma and he was breathing on his own with the support of oxygen.
But it was okay. Justin knew that waking up from something like this, it was nothing like general waking up from sleep. At least with the shit he had gone through in his life, he had understanding of medical treatment and what it could mean to be seriously unwell in hospital, so that part wasn’t scaring him. He knew Sash was in excellent hands and he was glad they were letting him still sit with Sash, even though there was a lot more activity around him he was being monitored for any change in his condition. It was the not actually ‘waking up’ that was terrifying.
At first, all Sash really seemed to do that was different to when he was in the coma was open his eyes a little and every time Justin tucked his fingers underneath Sash’s, he did sort of take his hand, though it was weak. They considered that a response to stimuli, though. Any response was better than none. They encourage Justin and Sash’s parents to both keep talking to him because they still couldn’t be sure if it was Justin’s voice or singing that Sash originally responded to.
And then something began to change the evening before. Justin had been close to falling asleep sitting with Sash after a really difficult physical therapy session in the afternoon. He was in pain and not feeling good but trying his best to stick it out at Sash’s side before the nurses insisted he return to his bed. When he felt that slight movement of Sash’s fingers in his hand, he jolted awake and found that Sash was looking him, albeit with heavy eyes and it was difficult to tell if he could actually see him. When Justin said his name and squeezed his hand softly to try to get any sort of response, Sash blinked and turned his head towards where his mom was standing at the other side of his bed. When he saw her, he started to cry with a fragile, weak sob of, “Mom.” It was barely lucid and coherent but it was unmistakable.
Yet, it was as far as things progressed and after he slipped back out of consciousness once again in his mom’s arms, nothing else had come since and it was now more than twenty-four hours later. Justin was glad his dad had been there earlier because it wasn’t a good day and he was feeling that heavy, being dragged through the mud sensation that came when his depression was starting to take a steady hold. He basically cried through most of the physical therapy session that day and the remaining time, he spent apologising to the physio for being a terrible patient. Thankfully, his dad was there and helped him push through with the exercises, explaining to the physio that everything was a hundred times more difficult to get through on his bad days. It was one of those days Justin was struggling to feel like anything could possibly get better or fixed when it was all as broken and damaged as it was now.
It was after physio that he had crashed out without intending to. They gave him additional painkillers because they had moved beyond simple, easy movements to keep his legs and hips pliant and had progressed to targeting the areas around the injury sites to strengthen them. The pain during the session had been so bad, he puked, so it probably wasn’t surprising it all got too much and led to him bawling his eyes out in his dad’s arms. Pain made everything so much worse and so much more difficult and that definitely wasn’t isolated to physical pain. It was around dinner time he woke again but wasn’t hungry and all he wanted to do was get back to Sash. When he heard there hadn’t been any further progress — Sash hadn’t been awake at all the whole time Justin was away from the room — he agreed to let them help him take a shower, which was definitely a plus to no longer being isolated in bed. Not being able to stand or walk, though, was one of the hardest things he’d had to face, which was saying something. Being a professional dancer, the fear he might not dance again was beginning to creep in and take root in his mind. Sash waking had proven a worthy distraction from those overthinking black holes taking over.
This time, Justin was listening to music with his AirPods in, his and yet again loosely cupped around Sash’s, his fingers gently drumming Sash’s fingers in time to the beat of the melody. He felt a little better after some sleep and a shower but he was wiped out from… well, just about everything. It was hard to hold his head up, so he was propping it up with his hand. A little while ago, Sash’s mom, Mhari, brought Justin a blanket and tucked it in over his legs for him. He was glad Sash’s parents could both finally be here too, especially when the first time Sash seemed to be conscious of something around him, he was crying for his mom. Justin’s heart was aching. Just when it felt like it couldn’t hurt more, it always found a proverbial ‘Hold my beer’ way.
Then suddenly, Sash’s hand was gone and Justin’s stomach dropped as he lifted his head to see Sash was awake and looking at him taking his hand from Justin’s and holding it against his chest. It was the most awake he had been since that first moment a few days ago and it was a look Justin had never seen before. He couldn’t explain it and at first, he just froze, scared to move in case Sash suddenly crash again and everything was ripped away. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and he didn’t want to wish this meant Sash would heal and make a full recovery. All it meant was that — for the first time since the horrible day Justin woke in a smashed car to Sash lifeless and mangled behind the wheel and covered in blood — Sash was unmistakenly looking at him and seeing him.
“S—Sash…? It’s me, baby. I’m here. Can you hear me?” Justin murmured, wanting to try to take Sash’s hand again to squeeze it, to show him he really was there. But why had he taken his hand away? Was it purposeful, was it a reflex? Justin didn’t know anything and couldn’t read any of this and he felt a teary unsteadiness seeping through him. “I love you so much,” he added, the choked words catching through a sharp intake of breath.
Sasha blinked but he kept staring at Justin until his eyes darted around, like he was looking for something or someone. When his gaze finally fell to his mom who had returned to the room just as Sasha was coming-to again. “M… M..om… i—is… that… is h—he…” He was struggling to get words out and something that looked like frustration briefly passed his features and his other hand was blindly feeling for his mom’s to anchor to.
Mhari quickly put her coffee down and stepped up to take her only child’s hand but she couldn’t help looking over at Justin in concern. “It’s okay, my darling. Take your time. You’ve been in an accident, sweetheart. You’ve had a nasty bump to your head. You’re in hospital. I know it feels bad. You don’t have to be scared. Mom and Dad are both right here.”
It took a few moments, but Sash slowly blinked a few times like he was trying to clear his head or his vision and soon focused on his mom’s face and his grip on her hand tightened. It was the most motor skill he had exhibited since he woke. She wrapped both her hands around his and leaned over, kissing his fingers. His other hand was still nursed against his chest in a loose fist and once again, his gaze was on Justin. “Am… I dead?”
Justin didn’t know if he should say anything. He didn’t even know if Sash was talking to him. But it was a valid question. One Justin had asked a time or two himself when coming around after being unconscious. It wasn’t always easy to tell when your head hurt and you had no fucking idea where you were or what happened. So, he didn’t say anything. He just sat there with tears threatening, using every ounce of control he had left not to burst into tears.
“No, darling, you’re not dead. You’re still here with us,” Mhari assured him softly.
“I—Is that… him…? I d—don’t… I… Mom… why… why is here?” Sasha’s breathing quickly and he tried to take his hand from his mom’s and he turned his head, trying to see beyond the two people he had been able to see near him. But he was dazed and groggy, the mere act of trying to look around disorienting him and making him feel sick. “A—Andi. Come back… Andi… i—it’s… too bright.” He whimpered and put his hand up over his eyes, where some tears spilled down his cheeks.
Every fibre in Justin felt like it iced over hearing Sash’s words and his stomach gave a sick lurch not only hearing them but seeing how distressed Sash was starting to get. “He doesn’t know me,” he gasped, shaking his head. “He thinks Andi’s here.”
Mhari was searching her son’s face quickly for any sign indicating what was going on in his damaged head. “I think he does know you, sweetie. He just doesn’t know why you’re here. He’s confused, that’s all.”
“Why would he not know why I’m here?!” Justin was still shaking his head, wishing he could get up and run away but he was stuck and it was causing panic to burst up inside him.
Mhari didn’t hesitate in reaching over to hit the nurse call button. “Justin, sweetheart, let me call your dad to come, okay? They said he could be confused and it might take time for him to get his bearings.” When the nurse entered the room, she stroked the backs of her fingers over Sash’s cheek to try to soothe him but she knew there was little she could do to reassure Justin of anything. “He’s been talking a little more but he’s very confused,” she told the nurse.
In a brief flurry of activity, the nurse had given Sasha an injection of something to calm him and had the consulting neurologist paged. Justin had pulled right back and his whole posture stiffened, hugging his arms around himself like it was physically painful not to be able to touch Sash or that he could break him if he accidentally tried. After a quick text from Mhari, Mark hurried back to the ICU where he had been sitting in the cafeteria clearing some of his backlog of work emails. Martin, who had been parked in his wheelchair in the corner of the room out of the way witnessing everything that just happened tried to fill Mark in the best he could while the medical staff attended to Sasha and the neurologist arrived to assess him.
Mark stood behind Justin a short distance away from the bed so they weren’t in the way, rubbing his shoulders to try to get him to de-escalate even just a little but there was no way in hell he could do more than that. Not until there was some sort of confirmation of what was happening with Sasha. The only problem was, Sash was struggling to communicate lucidly. But the kid had a serious brain injury. What was playing out could well be an indicator of the level of damage sustained and that was terrifying as all hell to hear. For Justin, it had to be crushing the little hope he had been struggling to hold on to.
The neurologist, Dr Palmer, who was a brain injury specialist, was sitting on a stool beside the bed after performing some initial neurological exams once the medication kicked in and Sasha’s own panic and distress had dialled down. There was more response with sensory stimuli and motor function than the previous days, but obvious significant neurological and cognitive dysfunction. Sasha’s responses with the examination indicated that he knew his name but not a whole lot else without prompting. Even then, a lot of the prompts were met with blank stares or difficulty getting coherent sentences out or struggling with words, which were flat and monotone. “Sasha, where was the last place you remember being?”
Sasha’s eyes were heavy and he watched the doctor’s mouth as he spoke, almost like he was waiting for her to tell him what the answer should be. He closed his eyes and started to say something but stopped and took more time to get the words out. “The… at… the lake. On the… um… with the water. The wood… in the…” He scrunched his face up.
“Do you know where the lake is?” Dr Palmer asked.
“Vermont. And… the sun.”
Justin made a tiny whimpering sound before he could stop it from escaping but muffled it with his hands so he didn’t distract Sash. He knew this was important but it was so painful to have to watch, Justin felt a physical burning ache in his chest. They hadn’t been to their Vermont lake house in ages and even then, Justin had purchased via a trust from Andi’s parents when they found it too painful with memories to hold on to. They were overjoyed it ultimately ended up being adopted by Justin and Sasha, the first thing Justin requested to invest in, in both his and Sash’s names. His dad gave his shoulder a little reassuring squeeze. Justin turned his face in against his dad’s arm.
Dr Palmer briefly scrawled something in her notes on the iPad she was holding with her stylus. “How old are you, Sasha?”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed and his forehead creased, but instead of saying anything, he lowered his gaze and didn’t say anything for a good couple of minutes. Eventually, the only response that came was a slight shake of his head.
“That’s okay. We can work on that one later. Can you see my pen here, Sasha?” Dr Palmer held up her pen to draw Sasha’s attention and line of sight back to her. Then she pointed to Justin with the pen. “Do you know who this young man is?”
Justin sucked in his breath and held it, fumbling for his dad’s hand and gripping it. When Sash looked at him this time, all he wanted to do was pull him into his arms and hold him. He wanted to tell him none of this mattered and it would all be okay. Lies, sure, but he desperately wanted to do anything to help Sash feel better and stop all his pain. He just hated the way he was looking at him. It was empty, like something was gone.
Sasha frowned, back to watching the doctor’s mouth. “Who?”
“The young man sitting in the wheelchair, just behind me here. He’s wearing a purple sparkly bathrobe,” Dr Palmer elaborated, purposefully drawing attention to the robe because Mark had mentioned it was a gift to Justin from Sasha during one of his hospital admissions.
“You… see him? He’s… I—I thought… he was… Um…” Sasha put his hand to his head. “Why is he here?”
“He’s visiting you. Do you know who he is, Sasha?” Dr Palmer repeated.
And then there was something akin to a hint of a smile that flickered at the corners of Sash’s mouth when he looked at Justin again before he murmured, “Ren.” He paused, frowning a little and holding a hand up. “N—No, I mean… dance. J— J… Campbell. No shoes.” He scrunched his face up again, struggling to say something else but it was taking a lot to get there. “Bueller.”
At any other time, this probably would’ve been hilarious and Justin would’ve thought the whole delivery could’ve made some sort of spoof or comedy skit about him. But it wasn’t funny and he started to feel sick, a cold sweat prickling his skin when a wave of scattered emotions felt like they just punched him in the face and gut. “He doesn’t remember,” he said through a small sob, looking up at his dad. “I want to go. I feel sick. Dad, take me back.”
Mark brushed his hand over Justin’s hair but his son flinched away from the touch, which was indicative that Justin’s mental state was slipping. He met Dr Palmer’s gaze. “I’ll take him back to his room.”
“I’ll come in and have a chat soon,” Dr Palmer promised and turned her attention back to Sasha.
Kicking off the brakes on the wheelchair, Mark met Mhari’s gaze across the room and saw tears in her eyes, her hand resting on her chest. Whatever the hell they had been trying to brace for waiting for Sasha to regain consciousness, this definitely wasn’t it.
It was a couple of hours before Dr Palmer came to Justin’s room with his iPad. That was understandable, Mark expected his assessment of Sash’s current condition to take time. There was nothing simple about it and he would’ve had to consult with other doctors on Sash’s care team. Justin completely shutdown on Mark and didn’t want to be touched. He just sat and sobbed his heart out and all Mark could do was sit there next to him. This was one of those horrible parenting moments where you felt helpless, useless, and a failure all at once because there wasn’t anything you could do to stop the pain your kid was in. He had been here with Justin many times but this time, there was a whole other level to it. It had nothing to do with Justin’s mental health or trauma. It didn’t even have anything to do with his own health, though all of the above was impacting on how he was copping this latest blow. It was just an awful situation completely out of anyone’s control.
There had been many warnings that they couldn’t know how Sash would be if he woke up. It had been an ‘if’ for so long that the fact he did regain consciousness had been against the odds. Then it was what the result of the brain injury would be. Would he have long-term effects or permanent disability from the brain injury? Was this a memory thing or just because his brain was still healing? So many awful scenarios rolled through Mark’s mind as he sat there listening to his son sobbing. He didn’t know how to keep Justin’s head above water anymore. At least he had medication, so by the time Dr Palmer came to talk to them, Justin had stopped crying but it was hard to tell if he was still emotionally receptive, until he spoke when Dr Palmer pulled a chair up to sit with them.
“He doesn’t know about us, does he?” Justin asked, feeling cold and almost numb. “He saw one of my early performances with his best friend, Andi, and they were in Central Park the day of the Ferri Bueller charity flashmob. Years ago. And Andi’s dead now. He thought he was imagining me sitting beside him.”
Dr Palmer folded his hands over the top of this iPad resting in his lap. “He was asking if you were okay after you left. But it is evident that he is suffering from something called Post-Traumatic Amnesia, which can happen following a traumatic brain injury that results in a period of coma. We have to bear in mind that Sasha did sustain a significant head injury in the accident but there was also the burst aneurysm, so dual trauma to his brain. There was also surgery to stem the bleeding. That means a lot of interference and injury to his brain at once. Yes, he’s progressing and the fact he’s come through the coma with a level of consciousness to his surroundings is positive. But his brain needs time to heal and he’s going to need rehabilitation to have a fighting chance of recovering functioning. We can’t know just yet what level his functioning has been impacted. It’ll be a lot of monitoring and assessing him in the coming days and weeks. Patients can and do recover from Post-Traumatic Amnesia but it’s a waiting game.”
“Please, just tell me he knows Andi died,” Justin begged, hugging his arms around himself. “You don’t have to… I know amnesia, okay? I get it. I have dissociative amnesia. It’s not the same but I still get what you’re trying to… ease into here. I might be fucked in the head but I don’t need everything spelled out. He’s had really bad head injuries, now he can’t remember shit. It’ll take time to see if he can get better but there’s always a chance he can’t and all this is just… it. Please, just… I need to know if I just have to leave him be. The last thing I want to do is to scare him or freak him out in any way. Especially if you’re about to tell me he has to go through losing Andi all over again.”
“Sasha doesn’t seem to have any recollection of knowing you on a personal or intimate level, Justin. But it is more likely to be a fact he has lost memory from a specific point in time rather than only forgetting you or your relationship. He thinks he lives in Boston with his parents and he can’t grasp that he’s the patient in hospital. He thinks he’s here visiting Andi. But if he has a recollection of seeing one of your Broadway performances with Andi and also your Ferris Bueller performance, his folks tell me that likely places his memory point just prior to meeting you and before Andi’s passing. It seems he did think he was just imagining you being here but it’s likely more a complicated result of how memories form in the brain and the area he sustained the injuries. His subconscious is aware you’re not solely a long-term memory only. He’s conscious of your presence but his injured brain is misreading the signal as a memory, in a sense. That is where it stands today. It’s going to change and shift as his brain heals more and more, that’s when we will get a clearer picture of what incapacity he may have from moderate to long-term. For now, we focus on his functioning now and address what we know and what his responses are telling us. That’s the neurological,” Dr Palmer told them, pausing momentarily. “The physical and emotional also need to be considered. Sasha has just had another brief seizure that was preceded by a significant sudden headache. There’s still inflammation on the brain, which could be causing the amnesiac symptoms so as that begins to heal, his memory might show signs of recovery. Again, it’s going to take time and just taking condition as it comes. I’m sure that’s something both of you more than understand. You don’t need me to repeat that side of things ad-nauseum. But feel free to ask me any questions.”
“Has he got epilepsy?” Mark asked, knowing it would be where Justin’s mind went sooner rather than later because of what he knew of Jace. “Is he okay after the seizure? We have a family friend that sustained a traumatic brain injury as a child and it left him with epilepsy. Absence seizures. I know it’s something Jus has been worrying about since we were told Sash was having seizures in the coma.”
“We don’t believe so at this point but we can’t rule it out yet. The seizures do seem to be stemming from the remaining inflammation and they’re reducing in severity as it heals. I’m hopeful they’ll resolve when the injuries heal more. They’re being caused by the location of the aneurysm, which I’ll explain to you in more detail when you’re ready, Justin. That’s one part of Sash’s condition that will need long-term management and may have been causing him neurological symptoms for some time before the acute rupture of the aneurysm. Or I can leave you some information to read in your own time,” Dr Palmer offered.
Justin nodded, wetting his lips. “Yes, please,” he said quietly, doing his best to take all this in but it was really hard. “Am I still allowed to sit with him or is it just better I stay away? Until… if his memory gets better. Is there a chance it’s just l gone for good?”
“It’s very unlikely he won’t recover some of the memories at least. Perhaps he’ll begin to remember further along in time or it could come back in bursts or patches. It’s the when. Some patients can take months to recover what the amnesia is blocking. Sometimes longer. But other patients start to recover memories within weeks of the acute injuries healing. I’ve given him something to sleep tonight and my team and I will re-assess him in the morning. It might be a good idea for you to do the same, Justin. You’ve had a shock and we need to make sure you’re protected also,” Dr Palmer reminded him gently. “The best way I think to tackle this at least in the coming days is to tell him that you, Justin Campbell the Broadway performer, is visiting him. It will keep that emotional link for both of you but it won’t be easy. It will mean you going into the place his mind can cope with so far, if you think you can manage that. I think we need to hold off re-traumatising him with Andi’s death. He may recover the memory himself. But bear in mind, it will be an ever-changing situation as we closely monitor him. He might wake up with a completely different set of responses.”
Justin rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “He’s done that for me more times than I can count. Of course, I can manage it for him. Even if it feels like everything inside me is burning. Fuck.” He started to tear up again but wasn’t sure he had the strength for another sob-fest. But what else was there left to do? “What the hell do I say to him when he asks me why me, the Broadway performer, is fucking randomly visiting him for some reason?”
“Just tell him the truth, kiddo. That Andi had Make-a-Wish arrange it but he had an accident and it changed everything, so you thought he could use company instead. I don’t think he’s well enough to rationalise and reason the finer details?” Mark looked to the doctor for clarification. He knew they would all have to be on board with how to tackle this so Sash didn’t get more confused and freaked out. They had done this type of thing with Justin when he had been seriously unwell. He hated that he had experience with how to handle it.
“The finer details? Like the fact he didn’t even know he was gay back then? Or the fact I’m in a wheelchair and can’t stand or move?” Justin’s head was hurting, feeling like it was way too overloaded with thoughts he couldn’t sort out or rationalise himself. It had to feel a thousand times worse for Sash, who couldn’t even process that he was the person in hospital. “Do I just tell him I’m cosplaying a disabled person and hope he’s cool with it? Sorry, I just… I’m gonna fuck it all up. I fuck everything up. How do I even…? I mean, is he struggling to put words together or has he forgotten words also? I want to understand so I can help him but it feels like I’m going to mess it up and hurt him. I don’t want to hurt him. I just don’t know how to pretend he’s… we’re… nothing.”
Dr Palmer gave a little wave of his hand. “You can’t hurt him, Justin. I promise you that. One of the most important things for a person coming around from a coma is familiarity and having people who love them around them. Sasha’s brain isn’t functioning yet at a capacity to make a lot of emotional connections or even process information he’s receiving in a usual way. Those sorts of neurological processing and functioning will hopefully improve gradually but it won’t be a quick process. You both have time to adapt to this new and scary situation. What you’re seeing with his words and trying to speak is something we call dysphasia, which means there’s a disruption in the ability of a brain to form links between language and thought. In very simple terms, the part of his brain that is injured controls those links between having a thought and communicating it via speech. It’s not that he has forgotten the words, it’s that at this point, his brain can’t ascertain what he’s trying to say. For patients with dysphasia, they may not be able to draw on the words they’re looking for or might use incorrect words. They might not be able to get words out at all or it could just be sounds or hand gestures. Our job now is to assess what his responses are meaning and how they can give us a clue into just what is going on with his brain following the injuries, now he is able to communicate with us.”
“As we know, the brain is a complex and complicated organ that sends the signals to the rest of our body on what to do,” the doctor continued. “If parts of the brain have been injured, those signals are disrupted and don’t operate how they should. It’s not vastly different to how a mental illness impacts on brain functioning. Psychological injury can share symptoms with neurological injury. You understand first-hand that your symptoms are responses you can’t control or dictate when your brain isn’t functioning properly. Though, while something like this is understandably very distressing for the patient and for their loved ones to experience, it gives us a lot of information to work with to determine how to treat them and rehabilitate them with their injuries. It won’t be easier for you to cope with knowing he doesn’t have an awareness of your love and relationship, let alone any memories he shares with you, but don’t underestimate what it was that had you both falling in love back then. Those things are still inside you and I know will bring Sasha comfort as he fights this. The answer perhaps could be that we tell him you were in the car accident together, because he met you for Andi’s Make-a-Wish request. That means he won’t feel so alone as a patient recovering from an accident and you won’t have to pretend you’re not struggling while you heal too. But beyond that, just be yourself. Talk to him as if you’re getting to know each other again. He knows who you are, he’s a fan of your work. Listening to you and talking with you will be extremely therapeutic for his recovery. Having time together as you heal will be therapeutic for you both. Do you think you could cope with being that for him? If you don’t think so, it’s okay. We’re not here to risk your own wellbeing and recovery if it’s too overwhelming.”
Justin looked over at his dad, feeling for his hand to hold, even if he had pulled back from physical touch for a bit there. Mark took his and with his other hair, combed Justin’s hair back from his face to try to comfort him. “You’re not letting him down if you say it’s too much at the moment, Jus. He wouldn’t want you to make yourself more unwell. You might be an actor but this isn’t acting. This will be trying to ration those things that come so very naturally to you because you love him.”
“What if he never remembers any of it? What if the memories don’t come back? I can hear the things you’re saying, doctor. I understand how doctors talk, without certainties or promises. You can’t say he will get better, just that most people with this do recover some or all of the memory lost. But you can’t tell me that’s absolutely guaranteed, can you? If he’s permanently brain-injured, there’s a chance he won’t be the same person anymore, isn’t there? If the injuries can’t fully heal, it can change people’s personalities.” Justin squeezed the corners of his eyes with a soft moan of frustration at himself. Even if it felt like his entire world had stopped and slammed into a wall, his brain was trying to kick into an overdrive of panic and anxiety that he couldn’t do what Sash needed him to.
“It’s far too soon to think in the most catastrophic of outcomes. There are many steps we need to work through before we even begin to consider that. That he is communicating with some level of coherence and he’s forming some coherent thoughts and responses to questions he’s being asked is a good sign. But yes, you are correct. Any brain injury, small or significant, can alter a person’s personality. I wish I could reassure you that won’t be the case but it’s only Sasha who will be able to indicate whether that is a long-term concern. You’re one of the closest people to him, who has interacted with him on a private an intimate level. You’ll be best placed to indicate to us if he’s showing signs of that. But we have to give him the time to get a little more healing and recovery under his belt. How he is now won’t be how he is in a week, a month, even a year down the track. An accident this serious has long-term effects on everyone.” Dr Palmer patted his laptop screen. “How about you read the information leaflets I’ll get printed out for you and write down any questions you might have. Don’t decide anything now. Think on it again in the morning after you’ve had a sleep. It’s easy to fear the worst of all possible outcomes after having a shock.”
Justin was chewing his thumbnail. “Doc, I have mixed bipolar and C-PTSD. I’m never not suicidal. My whole life is thinking in catastrophic outcomes. But thank you for being so patient and explaining it to me in ways I can understand when it frankly feels like my head has been nothing but fucked since I landed in this place. Can you… if Sash’s parents are okay with it… talk to a neurologist friend we have back home? His little brother is brain-injured and he explains medical stuff to me in ways I can get my head around. I get the whole, um… confidentiality, next-of-kin stuff. They know Evan. It should be okay but if they don’t want it, that’s okay.”
“Jus, you’re engaged—”
Justin held his hand up to his dad before he could continue. “Dad, he doesn’t know me as that. It’s not right for me to make any decisions. Martin and Mhari need to this time. I know what Sash’s legal papers say but I can’t have any say in anything important until… if… he knows about our relationship again. Evan’s a brain injury specialist. I want to be able to talk to him about how I should be dealing with this. That’s all.”
“I’d be happy to consult with him. New York-based? Is it Dr Evan Turner at Mount Sinai? I’ve attended neuro conferences with him over the years. Know a little of his background. I think it would be very helpful for you to talk to someone who has cared for brain-injured family members, Justin. I don’t think Mr and Mrs Stanford would have any issues with consenting to that. They’re concerned for you,” Dr Palmer told Justin with a gentle, sympathetic smile. “Sash’s brain might be struggling with memory but theirs aren’t. You’re still their future son-in-law.”
“I’ll have a chat with them and get a consent in writing drawn up.” Mark understood how much Justin was trying to protect Sash here, even despite the fact they both had legal documents drawn up after they got engaged that ensured that, in the event either of them were medically and/or mentally incapacitated, they would both be kept fully informed of all decisions involving their care. Sash would want him to have some weight in the discussions about his care taking place. Justin just didn’t trust himself emotionally with something that significant. He didn’t want to feel like he was betraying him.
“Evan’s fiancé has cared for me loads when I’ve been in the ICU. I trust them both. If we ever get back home finally, I know that Evan would take Sash’s case. That is if…” Justin couldn’t even finish the sentence and pressed his tightly closed fist to his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed. It was like his head just forgot how to work. Maybe he was going out in sympathy or he hit the emotional wall so hard, it had collapsed on top of him.
Mark put his hand on Justin’s shoulder. “I need to pull dad rank here now. I think it’s time to try to get a bit of rest, son. You heard the doctor, Sash’s been given something so he’ll sleep. You won’t be any use to him if you can’t function yourself and it sounds like it’s crucial that you’re able to be there to help ground him in some familiarity. It’ll be a lot of emotional hard work. You can’t do that on an empty tank.”
Dr Palmer hummed in agreement. “It would be a good idea to get you linked up with a counsellor or social worker who specialises in supporting family members of brain—”
“No. Fuck. No. No more counsellors. I don’t want to talk to anyone new. I’ve talked to enough new people. I just want to go back to bed and be left alone.” Justin put both his hands up. “No, seriously, please if I keep trying to do this now I’m going to hurl. No more. Not now.”
Mark knew that if Justin got to the point of actually spelling out repeatedly that he couldn’t take something anything further, that he actually reached that point quite some time ago and was now beyond the point of no return. The times he would probably try to run away or harm himself, so he was glad he was safe for the moment. He was still monitored around the clock because he had physical complications from his injuries and wasn’t healed enough to be able to move without assistance otherwise it could go from ‘at risk’ to serious consequences quickly. “We’ll get the nurses to come help you back to bed, son. I’ll have a chat with Sash’s folks about medical consent for Justin to be kept informed. Thanks for taking some time to come explain things, doctor. We know these situations are complex, at best.”
Dr Palmer rose and shook hands with Mark. “I’ll chat with the nurses to come tend to him and check what he’s charted for to help him sleep. If either of you have any further questions about anything or my staff or I can help, you can just call my office which is on Level 3 or let the staff know and I can drop by on my next rounds. If I’m not here or the Brain Injury Unit, I work out of the Rehab wing in the next block over. Justin, you should know that all things considered, you’re holding up better than even some perfectly healthy adults in your same position. You don’t have to do anything you don’t think you’re well enough to face. It’s important not to forget two people were seriously injured in the accident. Your own rehabilitation is going to be as difficult as Sash’s.”
Justin thanked the doctor for her help before she left but his words were barely audible. He’d hit a wall and couldn’t face the thought of trying to listen and understand anymore words, let alone talk more himself, was crushing but that didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful to Sash’s specialist and the fact she was clearly at the top of her field here in Australia. Doctors were one group of people he trusted because they had saved his life and pulled him back from devastating long-term self-harm damage many times. But his own recovery and rehabilitation was so desperately below where he held Sash’s that it was just all too much to process. He did the best he could but he hadn’t anticipated Sash could be in such a scary place if he got to the point he was well enough to wake up. He understood brain injuries from what he knew of Jace but the enormity of it being Sash and realising it might mean thing would never be remotely close to how their life was together before? He almost couldn’t breathe, the emotional crushing sensation was so devastating and through all that, he had to figure out how to pretend he was no longer in love with Sash to chat to him like he was any other fan who didn’t have potentially lifelong neurological incapacity - somefuckinghow.
LOG, COMPLETE