Chapter 3, Part 5 Jigsaw Puzzle (revised)

 Note: When pasting this part into the new manuscript, I noticed a big blank space toward the end. The missing section was an extremely important development in the day's events. So I undertook to edit in order to recount it here. 

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People in the waiting room started to stir. The sleepy ones sat up. Several people got up and looked out the door.

“It’s almost one. They should be opening the doors pretty soon for visiting hours.” Someone explained. “But they don’t always open on time. It just depends on what’s happening in there.”

So, we waited – and answered the phone.

Many people wanted to know what was happening. Of course, we still could not tell them much at this time, only to check back later and to pray. Throughout the ordeal, phone calls helped us to pass the copious time of waiting. They assured us that lots of people were holding us up in prayer – and we counted on their prayers, both for Arif and for our own endurance. Sharing our information and Arif's progress was also a good way to process the vast amount of information we had heaped upon us as the days and weeks went by. Joe would have to put the information into concise words, and I would give him feedback if I thought I heard something different. Then we could check with the nurses to clarify.

Finally, the doors to the ICU opened and people poured into the unit. At the same time, a woman came into the waiting room, looking for us.

“Hello. I am Pam, one of the nurses here. The trauma team just met to decide how to proceed. He is in serious condition, as you know, with no brain activity. The team discussed whether to have his leg fixed or to harvest his organs. He has ‘organ donation’ designated on his driver’s license. I stood up for him, saying ‘He is young and healthy. Let’s give him a chance.’ … You will need to sign papers giving permission for the surgery.”

We still give thanks for Pam’s intervention. We were so glad not to have to make such an agonizing decision, especially at that point in the ordeal. He obviously was not actually dead, but his brain was not able to respond due to the high pressure from the swelling caused by the trauma it endured, hitting the steering wheel and windows in the car. He must have been thrown around with the impact on the semi and then the spinning of the vehicle. The only life support he needed at the time was the respirator.

We have since that time learned a lot more about organ donation practices. They cannot transplant an organ taken after a person dies, because the organ itself no longer functions. It makes a person think about the implications of organ donation since Serious ethical issues surround the process of organ donation to this day.

It was time to figure out how the system worked. Over the next few weeks, we fell into somewhat of a routine of visiting hours, doctor consultations, crises, and most of all waiting.

At ten o’clock Thursday night (was that really just one day?) Arif was wheeled into surgery. A master orthopedic surgeon was assigned to piece together what remained of Arif’s left leg. After surgery, he arrived in the waiting room, bearing snapshots. It was a masterful piece of work.  The doctor proudly showed us the X rays both before and after. He now sported a steel bar in his left calf and two screws just above his knee.

We still did not comprehend the full meaning of ‘no brain activity.’