“He’s in critical condition, I’m afraid. The bullet damaged the right ventricle of his heart, and he’s developed a hemopneumothorax—”
“English, please!” I cut in, desperate to understand what Dr. Rhoades is saying. My brother, parents, and I are standing near the nurses’ station outside the operating room where A.J. is still on the table.
“There’s an accumulation of blood and air in his chest cavity, causing one of his lungs to collapse. Also his heart isn’t pumping efficiently due to the damage to the ventricle. The wound is severe; we don’t know yet if it can be repaired.”
“Oh God.” I clutch my mother’s hand.
“When I get an update from the surgeon I’ll let you know, but in the meantime, does he have a DNR?”
“DNR?” my mother repeats.
“Do not resuscitate,” explains my father. “She ne
