Chapter 4 - The Injunction
The ethics committee voted 7 to 5 in favor of enforcing Evan’s request to withdraw life support.
When Dr. Harrison read the verdict in the hallway, Evan collapsed into his attorney's arms, hiding his face. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I simply turned to Victoria Chen.
"Do it," I said.
Within ninety minutes, Victoria was standing before Judge Margaret Vance in the County District Court, filing an emergency petition for a temporary restraining order and the appointment of a legal guardian ad litem for the unborn fetus.
It was 11:45 PM when Judge Vance issued her emergency order: The hospital was strictly prohibited from disconnecting somatic support until an evidentiary hearing could be conducted in four days.
When I walked back into ICU Room 412 with the signed court order in my hand, the tension in the room was suffocating. Evan was sitting in the corner, staring at the floor. When he saw the legal paper in my hand, his face hardened into a mask of pure fury.
"You brought a judge into this," he said, his voice deadly quiet.
"I brought a judge to protect my grandchild," I replied, standing at the foot of Rowan’s bed.
"She’s my child!" Evan shouted, springing out of his chair. "She is my daughter, Elise! And Rowan was my wife! You had no right!"
"You were going to let them turn off the air!" I screamed back, pointing at the plastic tube running into Rowan’s throat. "You were going to let them kill her at 5:00 PM!"
"Because her mother is dead!" Evan wept, slamming his fist against the wall. "Rowan is dead! You are holding a corpse hostage because you can't face the fact that your daughter died on a kitchen floor yesterday morning!"
"Get out," I said, my voice shaking. "Get out of this room."
"I am her husband!"
"And I have an injunction that names me temporary medical advocate for the fetus until Monday!" I held up the paper. "If you try to touch her machines, or if you interfere with her treatment, the police will escort you out of this building."
Evan stared at me, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal. He looked at Rowan, lying pale and still under the harsh fluorescent lights, surrounded by ticking monitors and IV pumps.
"You've turned her death into a circus," Evan whispered softly. "She would hate you for this, Elise. She would absolute hate you."
He picked up his jacket, walked out of the room, and slammed the door behind him.
The heavy door clicked shut, leaving me in the silence of the ICU. I collapsed into the chair beside Rowan, burying my face in my hands. My entire body shook with violent, uncontrollable sobs. I had alienated my son-in-law, dragged my family through the legal mud, and forced my dead daughter’s body to remain bound to iron machines.
A soft chime sounded from the heart monitor.
I looked up. Rowan’s arterial blood pressure was dropping again—68 over 35.
"Nurse!" I yelled, scrambling to my feet. "Nurse, help!"
Marcus rushed into the room, followed by Dr. Rao. Within seconds, the room was filled with medical personnel.
"She’s in endocrine collapse," Dr. Rao said coolly, reaching for a syringe of hydrocortisone. "Her adrenal glands have ceased functioning completely. We need a continuous infusion of hydrocortisone, increase the levophed to fifteen micrograms, and get a central line kit ready!"
I stood backed against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs, watching them insert needles into my daughter’s neck, watching them pour chemical after chemical into her veins just to keep her blood flowing.
Dr. Rao rolled the portable ultrasound machine over, squirting blue gel onto Rowan’s abdomen. She pressed the transducer down.
The gray screen flickered.
There was the little spine. There were the little legs.
And there, soundless for a moment before the audio kicked in, was the flickering heart.
May you like
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
"Fetal heart rate is steady at 150," Dr. Rao said, looking back at me over her shoulder. Her forehead was slick with sweat. "The baby is holding on, Elise. But this was night one. We have months to go."
