Friday, Gini was up and alert, full of energy. When she walked, there was no limp. And for the first time, she could wrap her left hand around the plastic mug with a slotted lid without help. Debbie felt much better about the procedure.
Everything went as planned, and the therapy started at three o’clock. But this time, John had both her hands holding the balls as he requested she bend her knees and pull up her legs. All the time, he commanded she answer questions. Gini was able to take the blue ball in her left hand up to her nose and back without dropping it. Aaron helped her to do the same with the right hand. John even had her hold the balls from the top, constantly reminding her not to drop them.
Gini started to tremble, but abruptly stopped and started saying “bah, bah” over and over.
“Say your name.”
“Guiney.”
“My name.”
“On.”
“My whole name. Don’t drop the balls.”
“Ock… tor… my.”
“My long name.” He had her bend her left knee and hold the left hand so the blue ball was hanging down.
“Ock… tor…on… my.”
“Your full name. Put the ball in your left hand to your nose.”
“Ney, ger, son… d.”
She began trembling again and then stopped.
“Er… guiney, an… der… son.”
Debbie was fascinated with Gini’s ability to do what he asked. Then she got a knot in her stomach. Even though Dr. Meyer kept his voice calm and the cadence going, his body language indicated there was something wrong.
“Bah… bah,” Gini cried out.
John took her left arm and laid it on the bed with the ball up. Aaron lowered her right hand.
Gini trembled like she had done the other two times, the climax. But she seemed determined to go on.
“It’s time to relax.” He moved the fingers on both of his hands down her right arm.
“Laa… aab.”
“We’re done with the balls. You can let go of the ball in your left hand. It’s okay to drop the ball. I will catch it.”
Gini continued to hold the ball. “La… ahb, la… ahb.”
“It’s time to relax.”
She shook profusely. She put her head back and arched her back. “La… ahb, la… ahb, oob.”
He took the ball from her hand. Then he walked around the bed to her right side. “You can let go of the ball in your right hand. It’s okay to drop the ball. I will catch it. It’s time to let your brain rest.”
She continued to tremble. “La… ahb, oob. Ee… M, nah, rah… cod, la… ahb, oob.”
“Gini, you need to relax.”
“BP 197 over 102,” Patricia reported.
“EEG?” John asked, still in the calm voice.
“Extreme activity,” Robert said.
“Pulse 120,” Patricia said in a quiet voice.
“It’s time to let your brain rest.”
“Ee… M, nah, rah… cod, la… ahb, oob.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks and mucus was streaming out of her nose and mouth.
John wrapped the blanket around her and tucked it tight around her body. She arched her back again. “La… ahb…”
“Aaron, I’m going to pick her up and hold her so I can calm her down. Help me with the equipment.”
“It’s time to relax. We’re just going to take a deep breath and relax.”
He sat with her in the chair. She kept talking her mumbo jumbo crying out and arching her back. Robert and Patricia continued quietly reporting her vitals. Her BP was swinging from high normal to high. All she had to do was relax for one minute, and she would go into recovery.
“Elevated temperature, 100.2.”
“EEG?”
“Still very active.”
“Gini, relax. Take a deep breath.” He started to deep breathe to show her.
Debbie watched—stressed.
“How long has she been in climax?” Dr. Meyer asked.
“Two hours, fifty-two minutes.”
John held her as tight as he thought he could and tried not to have any flesh-to-flesh contact. No touching was advised until the patient was through recovery.
“BP 220 over 108.”
“Gini,” John said, trying not to put any emotion into his voice. He struggled to keep his cool.
“La… ahb.” She took two deep breaths and collapsed. He felt the warmth of her relieving her bladder.
“BP 180 over 98. BP 150 over 90…”
She was crashing.
“Slow brain activity.”
John closed his eyes. Her head fell back. He picked it up and put it on his shoulder.
Debbie broke out in a cold sweat. What was happening to her baby?
“BP 90 over 60.”
“Going comatose.”
A few minutes went by that seemed like an hour.
“BP steady, 90 over 60. Pulse 65. Respiratory 18. Temperature 100.6.”
The room was eerily quiet.
“Vitals holding.”
“EEG?”
“Minimally conscious state, comatose.” Even though Gini had slipped into coma—her body limp with no reaction—every time John said something, the EEG showed brain activity.
John still held her for another thirty minutes. Her BP would swing up and then go back down. The rest of the reading stayed stable.
Debbie was so tense, she had her hands clutched together up under her chin.
“Debbie, put on gloves and get a warm cloth to wipe her face. Just remove the mucus around her mouth and nose. Don’t touch her with your hand if you can.”
She followed his instructions. Then he carefully laid Gini on the bed and asked everyone to quietly leave the room. Robert tore off the EEG strips and dragged them into the living area. Patricia hooked the small monitor into the TV so everyone could see it.
When he went in the living room, Patricia sat in a chair monitoring the vitals. Debbie was sitting between Robert and Aaron on the couch.
“Somehow, I don’t think that was the way it was supposed to go,” Debbie said in an angry voice.
John sat down. “No. Not exactly. At least she didn’t stroke out. I don’t know
