“Mrs. Owen, your husband is very ill.”
Her tone gets lower as she stresses the word ‘very.’
“You need to call your children. You will regret it if you don’t.”
I glance down at my watch. It’s just past six in the afternoon. Kristen should be home by now and Thomas would be asking what I’ve planned for dinner any minute. I imagine Natalie is almost at the hotel. I don’t want to think about calling and telling them the news. What would I say to them? I’m not entirely sure what is going on here.
More importantly, I can hear Corey whispering, “Not yet.”
- THREE -
|6:07 PM|
Thomas
I toss my suitcase into the corner of my bedroom; I’ll deal with my laundry tomorrow. I head downstairs towards the couch. My stomach growls louder than before, so I check my phone. Still no text messages telling me what time to come over for dinner. My stomach can’t hold off much longer; I open the pantry to look for a quick snack. If I eat a small packet of M&Ms I can possibly trick my stomach into thinking it is finally being fed dinner and not totally ruin my appetite.
With no word from my mom, I’m guessing I have time for one round of Fortnite. I turn on the Playstation and plop down on the sofa. I need to work on my skills before Brandon comes home with Natalie and embarrasses me again. It must be nice to still be in school and have time to put in hours of Fortnite training. I’ll show him how great my work-life balance is; I laugh to myself.
My phone starts buzzing on the kitchen counter. Now Mom wants to call me with an update on dinner, right as I’m starting my game. What perfect timing. As I approach the counter, I see it’s actually a call from my grandpa. Did Mom invite him over for dinner, too? I look back at the paused TV screen; I haven’t had time for myself all week. I’m sure he’ll leave a message telling me what time to be at Mom’s house. I hit resume on the game. I would see my grandpa this weekend anyways; we could catch up then. For now, I want to take thirty minutes for myself.
Kristen
The drive home never really feels like home. My parents moved to Charlotte before my sophomore year of college for my dad’s job, and although I know where the closest grocery store is, the area never brings back nostalgic childhood memories. When they told us they were moving, I decided to switch colleges to be near them. I could help them with the move and, then they would be close if I ever needed anything. Plus, after my first year of school, I decided I wanted to pursue nursing and my current school didn’t have a nursing program so it really was the icing on the cake. I haven’t been back to Pennsylvania since the move; the reminiscing I do every drive home to Charlotte is enough of a visit for me. I never feel inclined enough to visit any more. I can remember so vividly being devastated when my high school friends and I discovered we were all going to different colleges. We promised to be ‘friends forever.’ Now it’s been about five years since I’ve heard from anyone. I wonder if Catherine is still dating Louis. He was always such an ass to her.
Pulling into the neighborhood is when my screen finally illuminates with a call. It’s about time-- someone finally welcoming me home! The caller reads ‘Grandpa’ and I’m somewhat surprised he’s the first to call me, but I’ll take it for what it’s worth.
“Hey, Grandpa! I’m pulling...”
Before I can finish my sentence, he interrupts me.
“Kristen, where are you?” His voice sounds somber.
“About to pull into the driveway…”
I pause trying to pinpoint the reasoning behind his tone.
“I’m a little late because I got held up. Is everything okay?”
Oh my goodness, my grandma. It has to be my grandma.
“Is Grandma okay?”
Doctors found an aneurysm in her brain a few months ago. They had coiled the aneurysm, and last I heard it had been successful. Did something change?
“Yes, she’s fine. Let me know when you stop the car.”
Is he trying to freak me out? My body is getting weaker as the anxiety of the unknown rises over me. I can’t remember if I’m pressing on the gas anymore, but I rely on my muscle memory to help me maneuver the car into the empty third garage stall. At least I’m home first and can claim the extra stall.
“Okay, I’m parked. What is it?”
“Kristen. I need you to stay calm.”
His precautionary words make my heart sink into my stomach and I notice my hands are beginning to shake. Okay… get to the point already. Dragging this out is doing anything but keeping me calm.
“Your dad has been admitted to the hospital for internal bleeding.”
I listen intently as he continues with current updates on his vitals, blood loss, and units of blood transmitted so far. In some sense, I appreciate the figures. He respects my nursing studies enough to tell me the information in a way I could properly digest it. But suddenly, I can’t listen anymore. I’m more focused on the faint voice I hear in the background; it’s a woman telling him exactly what to say and how to say it. What is this? Some type of script they had rehearsed?
“Kristen, are you there? A nurse is standing by if you need to talk to her.”
A nurse was standing by... this must be the voice in the background.
I’m going to be that nurse someday soon. The nurse giving updates to the families who hold onto every bit of information they receive, trying to make sense of it all. I would soon have to be the nurse willing to talk to distant family members to calmly explain what was going on. I would be in her shoes one day, one day soon. I have been so excited for my career to start, to make a difference in health care, and most importantly, to make my dad proud. I’m the only one who didn’t go into business and I think in some ways it made my parents thrilled to have something new. But now, now I’m not sure I want it anymore. The accounting or marketing route seems less complicated, less emotionally draining, more favorable.
Suddenly, a ringing in the distance is all I can hear. Turning my head side-to-side, I try to pinpoint the noise. Am I making this up? Am I the only one who can hear this?
I notice the tears starting to drop down my face. I didn’t realize I was crying until the wet droplets hit my hand. I go to speak, but nothing comes out. My throat is sewn shut. I can’t speak no matter how much I want to. I try to cough to release the tightness, but the cough only brings attention to the pressure in my nose. I’m beginning to get stuffed up; I must be crying harder than I think.
“Kristen, the nurse thinks you need to come to the hospital as soon as you can.”
My hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingers are numb. Is this really happening? Why didn’t I come home last weekend?
“I’ll be there shortly.”
I end the call, not wanting to hear another word. Does anyone else know? I hope I’m not the last one to find out.
“Starting your route to Hutchinson Hospital. In one quarter of a mile, take a left on Five Forks Drive.”
Thomas
The doorbell rings.
Shit. I pause my game.
“Anyone home?!” shouts out Chris.
I met Chris when I moved into my townhouse about a year ago. He was also a bachelor who gave too much time to his job and didn’t have enough time for the dating world…we had a lot in common. He has a six-pack of SweetWater IPAs in his left hand and a family-sized bag of Tortilla chips in his right. What more could I ask for in a neighbor?
“Hey, Chris. What’s new?”
He was already making his way into my living room when he called back, “Not much. Came over to see if you wanted to hang out for a little.”
I glance down at my watch. Where the hell is my mom, and why hasn’t she called yet?
“Yeah, I can for a little, but I’m heading over to my parents’ for dinner tonight. My sister’s coming home from college for the weekend.”
He throws out an elongated, “Lame” and grabs the other controller.
My phone’s buzzing again-- another call from my grandpa.
/>
“Mind if I take this?”
Not giving time for a response, I stand up from the couch staring at the phone screen.
“I’ll be right back.”
I run up the stairs as I press the green ‘accept’ button.
“Hey, Grandpa. Do you know what time dinner is tonight? I’m starving.”
I guess I should’ve asked if he was invited first, but I am sure my mom wouldn’t care if he and Grandma joined us tonight.
“Thomas, where are you?”
Why did he sound so distant? Did he hear what I just said?
“Um, at my house? I got home about, I don’t know, I’d say a couple of hours ago from the airport.” I’m confused by the question so my answer comes off jumbled.
“Thomas. Your dad has been admitted to the hospital with internal bleeding. The nurse here…”
I stop him right there.
“What!”
“When?”
“How?”
I feel like I’m in grammar school going over the Five Ws and One H questions necessary to gather basic, important information. I still need to ask ‘Who, Where, and Why’ before assessing the situation, but my grandpa stops me in my tracks.
“I’m sorry Thomas, I know this is a lot to take in.”
Yeah, it is!
Stress hormones are rushing through my body, making my body overheat. Adrenaline is pressing in my chest. Am I angry? What is this feeling?
“What hospital are you at? I’ll leave now.”
Why do I feel like I need to punch a wall to release my chest pain?
I turn down the stairs and move towards Chris. I must look as shitty as I feel because Chris immediately let out, “Damn. You okay? Everything alright?” My face flushes more after his comment.
I start to tell him what’s going on but my hearing leaves me; all I can hear is a ringing in the background.
“Thomas? You’re freaking me out, man.”
“I have to, um, go to the hospital.”
Even with the words out in the open, it still doesn’t sound right.
“What? Why?” I guess he understands the importance of gathering pertinent information, too.
“My dad. I better go.”
My anger is desperately trying to release from the corner of my eyes. Don’t cry, not here. I feel the wetness of the tears slide down my cheek, stopping at my jaw trying to hold on before eventually hitting the floor. I guess crying is better than throwing swings.
“Let me drive you,” Chris says as he guides me out the door. I don’t even try to push his offer away. Without him, I’m not sure my feet would keep moving. I’m losing control of my body. I open Chris’ car door and slowly slide into the passenger seat. Out of routine, I reach for the seat belt and click it in. I’m still in shock, still confused and still unsure of what I’m about to walk into.
“Take a right out of the neighborhood entrance.”
I know exactly where the hospital is. I drive past it every Monday on my way to the airport.
When was the last time I called Dad? I try to imagine my Google calendar, refresh my memory of the past few weeks.
Surely, it hasn’t been that long. Right?
Dawn
At least he looks like he’s sleeping. I was scared the sedation would make him look unconscious or paralyzed, or even dead. Luckily, to my surprise, he looks peaceful.
I reach for his hand, trying to interlock the two of ours. Why is he so cold? I glance around at all of the IVs attached to him, trying to determine which medication is causing the temperature change. It’s a good thing he’s sedated, because he would flip out about being poked and prodded so many times. The tube down his throat is the hardest piece to look at. It looks so damn uncomfortable; I can barely last thirty seconds before squinting my eyes shut. My eyes fall upon the dried blood lying on the corner of his mouth. The nurses must have forgotten to wash him up. Instinctively, I go to grab a paper towel, but my hands go numb as my brain rationalizes my next steps. Should I be touching his face? Can I mess any of this equipment up? Would it hurt him? My eyes well up with tears again as I go through the questions. I begin to wonder how many tears one can shed before there are none left.
There is a soft knock on the door. Swiftly turning to see who is there, I see a brunette nurse standing in the doorway. I’ve seen her come into the room a few times and add notes to the white board, but I’m not entirely sure who she is. There are too many nurses assisting to keep track of anyone.
“Hi. Mrs, Owen. Your dad wants to speak to you outside.”
Her whisper is hard to hear at first. Maybe she thinks it looks like Corey is sleeping too.
“Okay, I’ll be right out. Thank you.”
The ICU unit only allows one visitor at a time. Plus, my dad knows Corey is private about his health. Corey wouldn’t want anyone seeing him like this. Especially not the kids.
In a hushed tone, I tell Corey, “I love you. I will be right back,” and give his hand a kiss.
Turning the corner, right before I’m about to exit the unit, I nearly collide with a priest. I pity the poor person in need of a priest’s visitation at a hospital. I almost feel guilty for avoiding eye contact. I scurry around him and go through the doors.
“Dawn” my dad calls out.
“Yes?”
“I called Kristen and Thomas. They’re on their way.”
We both know the next call is going to be dreadful. We’d have to do some preparation before dialing her number. My hands grip the sides of the chair next to him; I need the support to help guide me into the seat next to him. My tailbone still hurts from these awful chairs.
“I have looked into some flights. The next flight leaves out of Pittsburgh at 7 AM tomorrow and will get her here by 9 AM.”
It’s so thoughtful of my dad to do the research already. I’m glad the nurse pushed me to call someone.
“I guess we should book it.”
Playing with my wedding ring helps me think straight.
“Call her first, but then we should book the flight.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to call her?”
“I can’t.”
I gulp nervously while vigorously shaking my head.
“I can’t talk to any of the kids right now.”
Not only because I know it would make me lose any control I still manage to have, but also because I feel like I am personally betraying my husband’s wish to keep the kids out of it.
|7:05 PM|
Natalie
I slide the room key into the slot and push the hotel door open while dragging my suitcase behind me. Wow, my school upgraded me to a suite! I open my suitcase and hang up my dress and suit jacket. After I pop my last antibiotic for the day, I grab my backpack and head for the desk.
Last week, my lymph nodes began swelling. I still have three large bumps on my neck and a painful bump under my armpit. My head always feels like it's ready to explode from the pressure and my nose requires a pack of tissues a day. It’d been inevitable the constant change in seasons in Erie would make me sick. One day it’s 56 degrees and sunny, then the next day we’ll have a winter storm. I called my dad the night before finally going to the doctor a few days back. The stress of school and event coordinating was at an all-time high, and not feeling well on top of it sent me over the edge. He kept telling me to calm down and keep moving forward; I was on the homestretch. He loves that saying, “On the homestretch, Natalie. You can do this.” Anyways, his pep talk and cliché sayings did their magic, and I calmed down enough to book a doctor’s appointment.
As I settle into my Advanced Accounting work paper, I hear my phone ring. I meant to turn it on do not disturb. I see it’s a call from my grandpa. Did my mom tell him yet about the bleeding? I wasn’t sure if it was still our little secret. Now that I think of it, I haven’t received an update in quite a while.
On the fourth ring, I still debate allowing it to go to voicemail, but I decide to answer. I can always use a break from
accounting.
“Hi, Grandpa.” My voice is shaky despite my attempt to be nonchalant. I hate keeping secrets from the family.
“Natalie, where are you?”
“I just got to my hotel in the city.” I don’t want to say too much. I still can’t tell if he knows or not.
“I need you to sit down. I need to tell you something.”
“I already know Grandpa.”
“What?”
He pauses trying to process the update.
“You do?”
He seems so surprised. My mom must not have told him she called me earlier.
“Yes. Mom called me earlier this afternoon telling me Dad was in the hospital. She texted me, um, maybe about a few hours ago letting me know the doctors ran a CT scan and found the source of the bleeding.”
“Natalie, listen. We need you to come home.”
“What? No.”
Did he not hear me-- I’ve already talked to Mom.
“I already asked Mom and she said it wasn’t necessary.”
My head is shaking side to side, as if my grandpa could see me saying no.
“It isn’t looking good, Natalie.”
My heart drops, but the drop isn’t stopping. It feels like I’m on a roller coaster that never comes back up-- I’m gonna throw up. My knees buckle and I flop down on the bed. I don’t have enough strength to stand upright anymore.
“Grandpa, you need to call my Mom. I just talked to her. Everything is fine.”
I pause before finishing, “It’s nothing serious.”
When was the last time we texted? It wasn’t that long ago, right?
“I am at the hospital with your mom,” he paused, “and your dad.”
I feel the fury slowly coming over me. How could she not have called me? Why is my grandpa there? I’m going through the conversation with my mom again. When did we last talk? Did I miss a call or text from her?
“Natalie?” I know he isn’t sure if I’m still on the line anymore.
“I’m here.”
“I’ve been looking into flights…”
I’m not even listening to him anymore. I cut him off-- “What are the odds? I mean what is the percentage figure he will make it out of this okay?”
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