Page 97 of The Legend
Gainingfocus, I tried to comprehend what he was saying but I couldn’t. Axel held metighter sensing the breaking point.
“Can I seehim?” I asked.
“No, I’msorry.” He seemed genuinely sorry. “No visitors are allowed inside the room.”
“Is he inthere?” I motioned behind him hopeful for a glimpse. “Can I just peek throughthe blinds? I just want to see him.”
“No.” hesaid remorsefully. “He’s not on this floor. He’s in theNeuro-ICUwhere he can get one-on-one care with us.” The doctor paused again, his browsfurrowed in concentration as he read a report. “He is also suffering fromtoxicity.”
“Toxicity from what?”I asked.
“Methanol,”he answered. “Regardless of how it enters your body, in this case, it was beingpoured on his when he was upside down in the wreck. The problem is the CNSdepressant properties in it can make it fatal.”
I gasped.Not only does he have a life threatening head injury but methanol could killhim too?
My god.
“It can betreated with antidotes of ethanol orfomepizole. Bothdrugs act to reduce the action of alcohol dehydrogenase on methanol in hisblood by means of competitive inhibitors so it’s excreted by the kidneys ratherthan being transformed into toxic metabolites.”
He wasspeaking Greek. Complete fucking Greek.
“What doesthat mean?” Casten asked.
It was thefirst time I’d heard Casten speak since we arrived. I looked over at him asthough I didn’t even know who he was. His rusty loops that matched Jameson’smatted from sleep and he was still wearing pajamas and that kind of made mewant to laugh because they were footy pajamas.
“It meanswe could smell the methanol when he arrived and caught it before theaccumulation of toxic levels could formulate in the blood and cause death fromrespiratory failure.”
Onceagain, he looked at his notes. “Now he’s a professional race car driver,correct?”
“Yes, he’sa NASCAR Cup driver.”
He frownedshaking his head. “He won’t be racing for a while. That head injury alone willset him back at least six months if not longer and that’s if there’s no damageto his brain other than swelling.”
“He isn’tgoing to be happy with this.” Casten teased softly. He was only trying to makelight of the situation which is what we all needed at that point. Axel finallynoticed his pajamas and gave him a funny look only to have Casten roll his eyesand point to the doctor mouthing “Pay attention,” to him.
Dr. Howefrowned and looked over at Casten next to me. “I know it may be touch and gofor a while but Jameson just needs to be thankful he’s even alive right now.Some weren’t so lucky.” The doctor shot back at him.
“My dadwill feel this more than anyone in our family right now, I guarantee you that!”Casten snapped back at him, tears spilled over his red cheeks. It was very rarefor Casten to get angry and even rarer for him to cry. I understood right thenhow real this was. “Don’t act like you know howwefeel or howhewill feel.”
Casten wasabsolutely right.
Whendetonation occurs, not only is the result fatal to the life of the engine butthe pistons, the driving force of the engine are destroyed.
Not justburned, there was nothing left, only fragments of metal remained. That was usright now, fragments of metal trying to focus on the detonation that occurred.
What droveJameson all these years was Jimi. He may think it was me. But Jimi taught himeverything he knew, in turn, he wanted to make him proud, just like Axel didwith Jameson. Jimi was his hero. His legendand now he was gone.
We madeour way back to the waiting room when Justin was sitting outside. I sat besidehim as the boys and Arie went back to the waiting room with the rest of ourfamily.
“Do youhave his helmet?”
Justindidn’t answer right away but stared straight ahead before the sound of someoneopening a door snapped him out of his trance. He blinked slowly, agonizingdread seeping from every movement, and looked over at me, his eyes tired andconfused.
“Yeah...it’s over there.” He said flatly pointing ata bag of Jameson’s gear they took off him in the ER and at the track.
Openingthe bag, I peaked at the helmet covered in dirt and blood. It was cracked downthe entire left side. Inside the bag were not only the helmet, but his racingsuit, gloves and neck restraints. All of it covered in blood and clay. My stomachturned, this was my husband’s blood. I swallowed trying to hold back the risein my throat. Removing the black racing gloves I bought him for Christmas, Iheld them to my chest and collapsed beside Justin.
“Oh mygod,” I gasped covering my mouth, tears surfaced again. My mind replayed thecrash and what Axel must have saw. I pictured him lying there, in pain,struggling to understand.
