by Alana Terry
“Four months exactly?” Barbie asks.
Why can’t I ever figure out what time of year it is? “I just need to talk to Dr. Bell.” Jake is staring over my shoulder at the thermometer. Doesn’t he know he’s in the way? “What’s her birthday?” I ask him.
“I beg your pardon?” Barbie replies.
“Not you.” I hit Jake’s shoulder to get his attention. “What’s her birthday?”
He’s looking at me funny, but I don’t know if that’s because he can’t believe I’ve forgotten or he can’t believe I expect him to know. With Jake, I can see it going either way.
“August 21,” he says, and I probably give Barbie a blown eardrum by yelling the date into my phone.
“This year?” she asks.
It’s too stupid of a question to even answer. “How long until I can speak with Dr. Bell?”
“The way it works is I’ll get a little more information from you and have a nurse call you back. If she has any questions or concerns, she’ll contact your son’s pediatrician for you.”
“It’s a girl,” I tell her but don’t know why I bother. It’s not like that matters.
The thermometer lets out a weak beep. Jake snatches it before I can. Barbie is asking me something stupid, something about Dr. Bell’s clinic, but I’m not listening.
I grab the thermometer out of Jake’s hand. “Listen,” I interrupt. “I need to talk to Janice Bell from Orchard Grove Family Medicine about my daughter right away. She’s on an apnea monitor, a feeding tube, and needs a suction machine because she can’t swallow. She’s on seizure meds and is one step above vegetative, and her temperature’s all the way up to 104.7.”
CHAPTER 57
I’ve never ridden in an ambulance before. If Jake hadn’t given his mom the car, we could have taken Natalie in ourselves, but when we explained to the triage nurse it would take at least twenty minutes before we could get on the road, she told us to call 911 instead of waiting around. The paramedics arrived just a few minutes ago. The same man with the blondish beard is still the captain on the crew, and now that we’re en route to the county hospital, he’s trying to get my mind off my daughter’s raging fever.
“Your family must have clipped out the two-for-one coupon from the paper.”
I can’t understand his words. Why is he talking to me about coupons?
I hate Jake right now. Hate him for not being here in the ambulance with us. For some reason, he in all his gifted intelligence decided to get the car from Patricia’s hotel and meet us at the hospital. As if Patricia and her stinking baggage couldn’t wait.
At least Orchard Grove’s a small town. Natalie and I will arrive at County in a few minutes.
One of the EMTs gives me a sympathetic smile. “I thought you’d be relieved to know your daughter’s pediatrician is the on-call doctor tonight.”
I don’t even grasp what that means. I just wonder if Jake’s going to meet us there like he said or if this was his way of bailing out on our daughter and me for good.
The captain’s trying to ask me questions about Natalie’s history, but I’m so nauseated I can’t answer. I don’t know if it’s the fast ride or what, but I swear I’m going to throw up. My daughter looks so tiny in here. The paramedics have her buckled in her car seat, which they’ve strapped to the stretcher. So much empty space. She only takes up one-sixth of the gurney. Maybe less. So much room to grow. God, do you see how little she is? Do you see how tiny? You can’t take her from me.
You said so yourself, remember?
A sermon that Sandy’s husband once preached is whizzing through my brain. He was talking about how God used prophets to deliver his messages in ancient times, but now that we have the Bible, the Old and New Testaments, there’s no need for prophecies anymore. I didn’t think I was paying that much attention, but now his words haunt me like I’m in some low-budget horror movie. No such thing as prophecy... Only valid in Bible times ... So why did my heart speed up when I first heard Grandma Lucy pray? Why did my spirit feel so secure when she said my daughter would live, as if she was giving me a direct promise from the Lord?
That was a promise, wasn’t it? Or was it what I wanted to believe? Another sermon, this one about people who only listen to what their itching ears want to hear, plays through my mind. With all of Carl’s preaching I’ve got downloaded in my brain, it’s a shock I’m not some missionary or other kind of saint.
We slow to a stop, and my very first, very bumpy ambulance ride is over. I’m back on autopilot now, scarcely functioning as the paramedics open the back doors and lower Natalie’s stretcher to the ground. I follow them, lugging that massive suction machine slung over my shoulder even though the hospital room will have one built in by the bedside.
I follow my daughter and her troop of first responders down blurry hallways that are far too bright. My brain doesn’t turn back on until I see a familiar face looking at me with so much compassion I feel like either hitting the liquor store and getting completely wasted or sitting down and treating myself to a long, hard cry.
“I’m so sorry to hear she’s sick. How long has she had the fever?” Dr. Bell asks. I could hug her for being here for me and my baby.
“I don’t know. I thought she felt a little warm this afternoon, but nothing like this ...” I’m going to start bawling. It’s stupid of me. There are lots of other things to get worked up over besides a fever, but it’s everything compounded. Jake and Patricia and that Grandma Lucy lady and now Natalie. I’ve never felt somebody that hot. My fingers have this strange, creepy sting to them where they touched her forehead.
“Is she still congested?” Dr. Bell asks. She’s not wasting a single second. She’s conducting this interview while the ambulance crew wheels my daughter into one of the rooms. “Has she been around anyone else who’s been sick lately?” She’s asking me so many questions I can only answer one out of every two or three.
“Her grandma has a cold or something.”
Dr. Bell frowns. “Any fever?”
“Not until just now. That’s why I called the ambulance.”
“No, I mean does her grandma have a fever?”
“I don’t think so.” I don’t want to think about Patricia right now. I swear, if that woman is the one who got my daughter sick ...
“How high did you say her temp was?”
“104.7.” I hate the way the words feel slipping out of my mouth. Like I’m defiled. Unclean. What kind of mother lets her daughter get this sick?
“And that was on a home thermometer? We better retake it here.”
“Got a new reading on the way over,” Captain Blond Beard says. “104.5.”
Dr. Bell’s not smiling. She’s not giving me a hug, telling me my daughter’s going to be just fine.
I need to get myself to a bathroom because I swear I’m about to puke.
We’ve stopped. We’re in a room now, and there’s at least one nurse in here for every EMT. All this for a fever?
Dr. Bell slips the ear tips of her stethoscope in place. I never would have guessed a face that pretty and youthful could appear so strained. Is she angry at me? Does she think I did this on purpose?
Something’s beeping behind me. I turn. Man, I hate those stupid monitors. The numbers are flashing and the buzzers yelling at us all as if we didn’t know. As if we couldn’t see for ourselves.
My daughter’s blood is only 84% oxygenated. The number drops to 82% after a few more beeps.
Dr. Bell turns to a nurse. “Get her on two liters of O2.”
I wonder if I’m the only one who can hear the desperation in her voice.
CHAPTER 58
An hour and a half. The flight team from Seattle is going to be here in an hour and a half.
Assuming Natalie makes it that long.
Pneumonia. That’s what Dr. Bell’s thinking. That or RSV, the baby-killing virus. But that doesn’t make sense, because Natalie’s been getting shots against it every month since she was born.
So
it’s pneumonia? Or maybe something else. Dr. Bell wanted to get an X-ray done at County, but the flight team told her to hold off until they reached Seattle. Something about their equipment being more accurate.
So it’s back to the city for us. Aren’t we lucky? It’s like we won the prize at the Christmas bazaar. Oh, and did I tell you the other good news? Jake hasn’t shown up yet. Natalie and I arrived at the ER almost an hour ago, and he still hasn’t come. Hasn’t called either.
I’m so angry I didn’t even text to demand what’s going on.
If he wants this to be goodbye, I’m not about to get down on my knees and beg him to stay. What is it they say in that Home Alone movie? Merry Christmas, you filthy animal. He and Patricia can spend the holiday together in that stupid trailer. It would serve both of them right. They were made for each other. I’ll ask Jake to mail me my things at the Ronald McDonald house.
Never look back, right? Might as well tattoo it onto my forehead.
“How are you doing?” Dr. Bell pokes her head into my room.
I fold my hands inside the pocket of my hoodie. “Better now that she’s getting the extra oxygen.”
“No, I mean how are you?”
I sometimes wish Dr. Bell weren’t so kind to me. It makes me feel that much guiltier knowing what I’ve done to my daughter. Knowing what she’d think of me if I told her the truth.
I shrug and try to cough up a little bit of a laugh. “Not bad. I’m getting sort of used to this.” I’m about to make a stupid joke about the medevac company giving out frequent flyer points, but the words stick in my throat.
Dr. Bell tells me to call if I need anything, and she slips out of the room gracefully. I glance down at her feet, half expecting to see pink ballet slippers.
I’m a mess. The only reason I haven’t completely fallen apart is because I need to function to make that medevac flight with my daughter.
I should call Sandy. I really should. I haven’t posted anything online yet. I’m too tired to bring the phone out of my pocket. Too exhausted from wondering when Jake will show up, wondering why he hasn’t called yet.
Deep inside, I already know. He’s not ready for the responsibilities of having a daughter. Especially not one as fragile as Natalie. Heck, I’m not even ready for this, but I don’t have any choice. So here I am. Maybe I shouldn’t be too hard on Jake. If I could have left by now, don’t you think I would?
At least we had a good evening together. One good evening out of our whole whirlwind marriage. I just wish Washington had more lenient annulment laws. I looked into it a month or two ago. Since neither of us were drunk or anything like that when we signed the papers, we’d have to go through an actual divorce. No quick and easy dissolution like you’d find in some states.
I shouldn’t have ever left Massachusetts. What do Natalie and I have out here?
Each other. That’s it.
I just hope to God it’s enough.
CHAPTER 59
“I’m sorry, Mom. This will all be done in another few seconds.”
The flight nurse from Seattle is here, and he’s apologizing because he has to dig around with the needle before he can get my daughter’s veins to cooperate. Natalie doesn’t need any IV meds right now. They just want to have the port ready in case she needs treatment on the way to Seattle.
Everything’s gone smoothly so far. Natalie’s oxygen levels are hovering in the low nineties, with an occasional bounce to 88 or 89. Dr. Bell put her on one of those nebulizer machines earlier. Reminded me of that foster brother I used to tease so mercilessly for his asthma. I’m surprised I still remember Eliot Jamison. Wish I could look him up. Maybe it’d be good karma if I apologized to him.
Natalie looks ok to me, not blue or anything like that. And the flight nurse is taking his time. That’s got to be a good sign. No rushing around like she’ll die if we don’t get her to Seattle in the next half hour. I’m trying to tell myself everything’s going to be ok. They’ll take her to the Children’s Hospital, monitor her for a day or two, and send her home.
We could be back in Orchard Grove by Christmas.
Or not. I’ve already decided that if Jake doesn’t call me or at least text me to ask how everything’s going, I have no reason to return. Natalie and I can stay in Seattle. Find a place to live there. I’m so sick of medevacs already. Today’s the last time I’m going through something like this.
The flight nurse gets the IV port in place and tapes it to Natalie’s skin. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t know if he’s apologizing to me or my daughter.
Dr. Bell is at my side now, rubbing my shoulder. “Looks like they’re just about ready.”
I force myself to return her smile. “Thanks so much.” I hold her gaze for a moment. I hope she understands I’m grateful for so much more than her taking care of my daughter.
Small laugh lines soften around her eyes. She looks tired. I pray she doesn’t hate me for putting her through an ordeal like this. And right before Christmas, too.
“I hope everything goes well for you in Seattle,” she says.
I want to tell her merry Christmas, but I hate to admit I might be spending the holidays at the Ronald McDonald house like some kind of pathetic charity case, so I don’t say anything and end up looking like an idiot instead.
“I’m going to give you my cell number,” Dr. Bell tells me, grabbing a birth control pamphlet from the counter. “Let me know how she’s doing, ok?”
I bite my lip so I don’t make an even bigger fool of myself and start blubbering. She really cares about my daughter. How did we get to be so lucky?
I take the paper she’s holding out and nod my head. She understands I can’t talk right now. I’m sure she does. I know we’d be good friends if we’d met somewhere else, an exercise class or something. When you’re with her, you want to open up and be vulnerable, but it’s not like she demands anything from you. This whole ordeal she hasn’t even asked about Jake. Isn’t she the least bit curious where Natalie’s father is at a time like this?
I sure am.
A nurse enters the room, looking straight at me instead of any of the other workers. “Your husband’s here.”
He’s panting when he comes into the room, like he’s just run ten flights of stairs even though County’s small enough that everything’s on one level. “There you are.” There’s relief in his voice, so much so that I don’t rip into him right away for ditching us like that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he pants. “I left in such a rush I forgot my phone at home.”
It’s a reasonable excuse. Besides, I’m too sick with worry right now to stay angry at him. “Did you get the car?” I still can’t figure out why he’s so late or why he’s as winded as Eliot Jamison in the first stages of an asthma attack.
Jake shakes his head. “I went to the wrong hotel.”
“The wrong hotel?” It’s not like Orchard Grove has more than one to choose from.
He shrugs. “I got there, asked the guy at the front desk to let my mom know I was there, and he said she hadn’t checked in. Said he hadn’t had any new guests all evening.”
That’s so like Patricia. She gets my kid sick enough to land us another all-expense-paid flight to Seattle, and then she ditches town, leaving us stranded and carless.
Mother of the Year, right?
I don’t care that Jake’s late. Not anymore. But I do care about that witch stealing the Pontiac. Who does she think she is?
“What are you going to do?” I ask him.
“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. She probably went to one of the hotels off the highway or something.”
I call her a name I may regret tomorrow, but right now I’m not worried about etiquette. Jake bristles at my outburst but doesn’t get mad at me. “How’s Natalie?”
I don’t know if he’s asking because he’s anxious about her or because he wants to change the subject. “They’re getting ready to fly her back to Seattle.”
His eyes widen. “Seattle?”
I shrug. What was he expecting? County’s not the kind of place that can handle a sick kid like her. It was dumb to bring her back here in the first place. If she and I had stayed in Seattle, she’d already be getting all the x-rays and medicine she needs.
“We’re leaving in just a few minutes.”
“I’ll come with you,” he says.
“They only have room for one of us.” He already knows that. This is the exact same scenario we went through when Natalie was born.
“Then I’ll make the drive tonight and meet you there.”
It’s cute the way he wants to rush in and be involved, but he’s not thinking at all.
“What are you going to drive?”
Jake doesn’t have an answer for me.
A member of the flight crew enters the room. “We’re ready.”
I look at Jake, and he looks at me. This might be goodbye, but I’m not certain. Right now, I need to get Natalie to Seattle. All these questions about Jake and our relationship will have to wait until later.
“Call me as soon as you get there,” he tells me.
“Ok.”
We are as awkward as two strangers who just got set up on a blind date. I feel like we should hug or something, but everyone is watching. Waiting. Natalie’s got to get on that jet.
“Bye,” is all I say.
“Yeah. Bye.” Jake’s voice follows me out of the hospital room like a soulless echo.
CHAPTER 60
I haven’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours. It was almost three in the morning by the time Natalie got situated at the Seattle Children’s Hospital. The rooms are bigger than when she was in the NICU. We’re in the pediatric intensive care floor now. Moving up in the world, aren’t we? I hate the fact that I’m spending the week before Christmas in the hospital, but something feels right about the entire thing. Like maybe my brain knew we’d be here all along. Or maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.
God knows I deserve this and so much worse. But does he have to take it out on my daughter?