“Are you sure it’s okay? We can easily bring something in to eat.”
“No. Pick me up at eleven-thirty. I’ll be ready.”
“Ask Sandy to come along.”
“She’s back home in Grass Valley.”
They drove to Vic Stewart’s Restaurant, the 1891 converted train depot in Walnut Creek. The maître d’ seated Nora, Lisa, Lilly, Sally, and Emma in a stateroom in the attached Pullman car.
“I love this place,” Lisa said. “Mike did, too.”
“We know,” Lilly said. “Almost every place in this area carries memories of Mike.”
“You look wonderful,” Emma said. “Pregnancy sure agrees with you. How are you feeling?”
How much detail is appropriate? Lisa thought.
“I’m feeling well, but this bleeding and the clot in the placenta keep me and my obstetrician on edge. We’re doing everything possible to protect the baby.”
“Some women go to bed for months,” Nora said with a hint of disapproval.
The mother-in-law finally arrives, Lisa thought.
“I’ve discussed it extensively with Harvey Russo, my OB, and, for now, we’re opting for measured mobility. I may wind up in bed, yet.”
They ordered lunch. The quiet stateroom was perfect for intimate conversation.
Lisa ordered a sushi appetizer and salmon.
Nora and Mike’s sisters ordered salads, and each woman, except Lilly, ordered a glass of wine.
Looking at Lilly’s glass of merlot, Lisa licked her lips. “Can I have a sip of your wine? I miss it so.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Nora asked, “I mean, with you being pregnant, and all?”
“It’s fine,” Lisa said. “It’s only a sip. It won’t hurt.”
Lilly handed the glass to Lisa, who took a generous sip, and then said, “Oh, I took too much. Let me buy you another glass.”
“You really do miss it,” Lilly said. “If I want more, I’ll order another.”
Since lunch, Nora had been brooding. At first it was about Lisa’s behavior, but then she became angry. By early evening, she’d had enough, and was on the phone to Lilly, Sally, and Emma. “I want to see all of you. And, I mean right now.”
“I can’t, Mother,” Sally said, “I have an early morning meeting in Silicon Valley.”
“I don’t give a damn. I want you all here. This is too important.”
Emma was the last to arrive, and found them sitting at the dining room table sipping tea.
“It’s about time,” Nora said.
“Calm down, Mother,” Lilly said. “What’s the matter?”
Nora shrugged her shoulders, and took another sip of tea. Then she poured a cup for Emma, and topped off her daughter’s cups. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been fuming since lunch. That girl’s too cavalier for my taste.”
“I knew it,” Lilly said, “something was bothering you at lunch. You’re the world’s worst poker player.”
“What are you talking about, Mother?” Emma asked.
“Well,” Nora said, “I’m the last one to tell a girl how to live her life, but we have an investment in Lisa and this baby.”
“You’re kidding, Mother,” Sally said. “And, by the way, Lisa’s a woman, not a girl.” She paused. “And, Mother, you do love to tell everyone how to live their lives. It’s part of your charm.”
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Lilly said. “We all love Lisa like a sister. She and the baby may be all we have left of Michael.”
“Exactly,” Nora said. “I don’t want to substitute my judgment for hers, but this is our baby, too.”
Lilly looked upward. Sally and Emma shook their heads.
“I still don’t know what has you so angry,” Lilly said.
“Well, for a start, did you see what she ate?”
“Fish?” Sally said.
“Sushi, first—raw fish—and then salmon. Who knows what’s in that stuff. We all know about mercury in fish.”
“I wouldn’t worry about sushi served in a place like Vic Stewart’s,” Lilly said, “and, unless you’re eating fish every day, I wouldn’t worry about mercury, either.”
“If that wasn’t bad enough, she had coffee, and, unbelievably, she had some wine. If that isn’t the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what is.”
“It was decaf, Mother,” Lilly said, “and one sip of wine—get real.”
“She shouldn’t have either. It’s too dangerous. I want her to stop.”
Sally scanned the group, and then focused on Nora. “If I get pregnant, I’m moving to South America.”
Nora turned to face Lilly directly, staring at her oldest daughter.
“Oh no, Mother. Not me. Find another fool for this errand.”
“Very dramatic, Lilly,” Nora said, “but you’re the one Lisa likes and respects the most. She’ll listen to you.”
“Mother, I’m not going to criticize Lisa. I love her, and I don’t want to compromise our relationship based on your overreaction.”
Nora turned away from her daughters, and cried. After a moment, she turned again toward Lilly. “Please, talk with her.”
When Lilly called and asked to meet for coffee in the middle of the afternoon, Lisa knew something was wrong. Lilly had a busy schedule, which didn’t permit time off in the middle of the day.
They met at Starbuck’s in Walnut Creek, and sat under a multicolored umbrella in the early afternoon sun.
Lilly smiled at Lisa, and said, “You look wonderful. How are you feeling?”
“Physically, I feel great, but it’s not easy to live with the threat of losing your baby.”
“It must be difficult,” she said, studying the table top.
“Lilly, what’s up? I know this wasn’t a casual invitation.”
Lilly looked up into Lisa’s eyes, and said, “We have a problem.”
“What problem?”
“It’s Nora.”
“Is she sick?”
“No, not really, although in a way, yes. She asked me to talk with you, to be her messenger, but I can’t do that without compromising our relationship. I won’t do that.”
“Why does she need a messenger? Can’t she pick up the phone, or talk with me in person?”
“We all have our weaknesses, Lisa, and Nora has hers. When Aaron died, he left Nora with four kids and few financial resources. She devoted her life to her family, and as much as she loved us, her daughters, Mike was special. His condition is tearing her apart.”
“Tearing her apart? What about me?”
“Please, Lisa, I’m trying to help you understand Mother better.”
“You’re making excuses for her, Lilly. Why?”
“She wants this baby, Mike’s child, and it’s reached the point of obsession.”
“For a tough-talking attorney, you’re doing an interesting dance, here. What’s so terrible that you can’t get to it?”
“In court or in business negotiations, I can be tough. With Nora, I regress to a child—it’s ridiculous. I still have difficulty in saying no to the woman, Lisa. I told her she was wrong, but she’s upset by the way you’re handling your pregnancy.”
“Upset?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, but when you ate sushi and salmon at lunch, she became concerned. When you had coffee and wine, she went ballistic.”
Lisa felt her face flush. She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, and then she laughed. “Life’s too short for me to deal with that kind of crap, Lilly. I have enough stress, and Nora’s craziness is the last thing I need.”
“I agree with you, but you need to understand the roots of her concern.”
“This is adolescent behavior, Lilly. It’s insulting, and it demeans all of us. If Nora has anything to say, then let her face me. I won’t be a part of this.” Lisa rose. “Tell her for me that I don’t appreciate this. She’s putting a rift between us, and if this turns into a chasm, it will be her doing.”
>
Chapter Forty-Four (Weeks 24-25)
Lisa attended her weekly Holistic Harmony for Health seminar. First, they taught relaxation and control. She’d grown up with the idea that, for the mother-to-be, pregnancy was entirely passive, as characterized by the phrases bun in the oven, and her favorite, lady-in-waiting. The HHH approach was the polar opposite, everything, including your thoughts, physical activities, diet, and especially your emotional state, would have profound influence on your baby’s personality and abilities.
She couldn’t deny that her actions affected her baby, but she found herself stuck between the true believers in HHH and Phoebe, the skeptic.
“I enjoy putting you on,” Phoebe said. “You’re so easy. No pregnant woman can deny that your mood and your activities affect your baby. It’s the fringe stuff that turns me off.”
“Me too, but some techniques are great, especially the deep relaxation, the rhythmic breathing, visualizations, the music, and recently they talked about journal-writing. That sounded interesting.”
“What about karaoke for the fetus? I’d love to hear you do that, Lisa, especially with your tin ear.”
“You’re impossible, Phoebe. Some stuff they put out is hard to take, including dream work, affirmations, and drawing techniques designed to stimulate the brain.”
“What about the journal-writing? I’ve thought that, someday, I’d like to write.”
“It’s not writing per se, but a strategy that prepares your brain for what you want.”
“That’s as clear as mud.”
“You remember from nursing school that we learned about the part of the brain called the reticular activating system (RAS). It screens incoming data, so that urgent stuff gets sent to the conscious mind, and the rest goes to the subconscious. It’s like your brain ignores the creaks, drips, and the AC going on and off that your house makes at night, but the second that Max makes a peep, you’re up and ready to go.”
“So?”
“Part of journal-writing, putting down your dreams and aspirations, alerts the RAS. They call it ‘write it down to make it happen’. It’s part of why modern businesses are big on writing down their goals.”
“A ‘write it, and they will come’ approach.”
“You really can’t be that cynical. Anyway, it works.”
Lisa arrived in the ICU after noon. “How’s he doing?”
Patti Clark, an experienced nurse, but new to intensive care, said, “His electrolytes were a bit abnormal this morning. Dr. Byrnes had them redrawn.”
“What was wrong?”
“His blood glucose is high, and his potassium is low.”
Lisa knew about the difficulties of intravenous feedings and the potential for severe electrolyte abnormalities. They saw it often in the NICU.
When Lisa glanced at the heart monitor, she saw two abnormal heartbeats move across the screen. These had the characteristics of premature ventricular contractions or PVCs.
“How long has he been having those PVCs?” Lisa asked.
“They started this morning, but I only saw a few, and nothing sustained.”
“When will the labs…”
The monitor alarm’s piercing scream froze Lisa’s question. They turned to the monitor as runs of PVCs marched across the screen, up to six or eight in a row.
“Get Dr. Byrnes for me, stat,” yelled Patti to the ward clerk, as she brought the resuscitation cart to Mike’s bedside, and grabbed a syringe pre-filled with Lidocaine to treat heart rhythm problems.
“What are you doing?” Lisa cried.
“It’s protocol. Any patient with that many PVCs in a row gets treated. We can’t afford to wait, because the next step is ventricular tachycardia. You know how dangerous that is.”
Lisa watched the monitor, as Patti injected the Lidocaine. The runs of six to eight PVCs disappeared, and were replaced by couplets or triplets, runs of two and three PVCs.
I hear or feel the pulsating alarm. Something’s wrong. Something’s squeezing my arm repeatedly. I feel dizzy, and taste something bitter on my tongue—I think it’s my tongue that feels numb. My heart is racing—racing— I’m dizzy—dizzy…
Jack Byrnes rushed to the bedside. “What’s happening?”
“He had a few PVCs, and then runs of PVCs,” Patti said, “so I pushed the Lidocaine.”
“Here’s the lab work,” said the ward clerk, handing Jack the computer printout.
“Shit,” Jack groaned. “His electrolytes are screwed up, especially his potassium—it's really low. That’s why he’s having the PVCs. Let’s give him some potassium, stat. I’ll rewrite his IV orders.”
As Jack started for the nursing station, the monitor alarmed, again.
Lisa felt her abdomen tense as the screen showed continuous PVCs, now called ventricular tachycardia.
“What’s his pressure?” Jack yelled.
“It’s 70 over nothing,” Patti said.
Lisa felt her stomach churn as she turned to Jack. “Jack—please Jack—don’t…”
“Give him another bolus of Lidocaine,” Jack said, turning on the defibrillator. The unit hummed, and then it issued a soft vibrato as the frequency increased until the unit reached its maximal charge as indicated by a distinct beep and the presence of a bright red ready light.
Jack watched the monitor, and when the ventricular tachycardia persisted, he said, “We have no choice with his pressure so low. I’m going to have to shock him.”
“Jack please,” Lisa cried.
“He’s in a coma. He won’t feel anything.”
“Are you sure?”
I hope I’m right, Jack thought.
Jack moved to the bedside, uncovered Mike’s enormous chest, and placed the gel-covered paddles over the base of the heart, and to the left of its apex. “All clear,” he shouted as he turned to check that nobody was touching the bed or the patient, and pushed the red buttons.
Mike rocked with a total body contraction. The bed shook like an earthquake.
What! Oh my God! My chest explodes in pain, unbearable pain—it’s burning me—killing me. Everything turns red, and then I descend into darkness.
Beeps came from the monitor as Mike’s heart resumed regular contractions.
“He’s back,” Patti said.
“Let’s get the potassium in and the IV with Lidocaine running. We don’t want any more of that.”
Lisa, who had collapsed into a chair, unwound her arms, which had been wrapped around herself. She rose and walked to Mike’s side. She placed her hand on his cheek, and stared at her husband as tears filled her eyes.
Phoebe arrived with Nora and Emma a step behind.
“What happened?” Emma cried. “Is he still alive?”
“Stop it,” Phoebe said, and then she led them to the nurse’s lounge.
“Don’t ever talk that way in front of Mike,” Lisa said.
“He can’t go on this way,” Nora said.
“What do you suggest?” Lisa asked. “Tell me what we’re not doing. Tell me what you would do. What’s the matter with you two?”
“His heart stopped,” Emma said. “What’s the use of all of this? It’s been months, and he’s no better. In fact, he’s worse. This is no way to live.”
Phoebe looked at Lisa, and shook her head, thinking, Don’t do it, Lisa.
“I’m sick of you two,” Lisa said. “All I’ve heard from the beginning is pessimism and hopelessness. I don’t need it. Mike doesn’t need it, and neither of us will tolerate it. You’re no longer welcome here. Do you understand?”
Nora paled, while Emma broke out in tears.
Phoebe took a step between the warring parties. “I know how difficult this is for all of you, but you only make things worse when you strike out against each other. The only villain here is disease, and disease doesn’t give a damn about your feelings.”
Phoebe returned to Lisa’s side, caressing her hair. “First of all, his heart didn’t stop. He developed an irregular heartbeat because his pot
assium got too low. It’s not unusual in someone so sick. It doesn’t change his prognosis one bit.”
“Some prognosis,” Nora snorted.
“Get her out,” Lisa shouted. “Get her out of here!” She collapsed in tears.
I’m awakening somewhere between sleep and consciousness. That couldn’t have been a dream. My chest still hurts. What was it?
Lisa laughs at me for dismissing the possibility of an afterlife. Maybe I‘m wrong. Maybe there is one—at least a hell!
Forty-Five (Week 25)
“I feel like you’re my mother, Phoebe,” Lisa said as they sat in Harvey Russo’s waiting room.
“You wouldn’t want me for a mother, but I’d be lot better than the one you have.”
“I don’t like to think about it when I have so much on my mind.”
“Have you heard from Nora?”
“No, not from her, or any of Mike’s sisters. I’d like to feel bad about my outburst, but I don’t. I thought they’d be there to help, but they only think about their own feelings.”
“Lisa Cooper,” said the nurse opening the door to the inner office, “it’s your turn.”
The nurse weighed Lisa, and took her blood pressure. After giving a sample of urine, she and Phoebe waited in the examining room.
Looking at Lisa’s belly, Phoebe said, “Hardly a hint of pregnancy, there. You may not need maternity clothes until near the end.”
“Good, I hate them. They don’t work to hide the obvious, nor do they embellish it.”
“It’s like putting a bow on a cow.”
“Speak softly, Phoebe, or the women in the waiting room are going to string you up.”
Just then, Harvey entered the room with her chart. “Everything looks great. Your blood pressure is 100/60 and your urinalysis is clear. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling fine.”
“After I examine you, I’ll do a quick ultrasound. We need a good handle on the baby’s age.”
And to make sure there aren’t any fetal abnormalities, Lisa thought.
Harvey listened to her heart, lungs, and abdomen. “Good, strong fetal heart tones.” He applied a clear jelly to the ultrasound probe, and spent several minutes examining the baby and taking measurements.
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