Coming Unglued

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Coming Unglued Page 11

by Rebeca Seitz


  She walked around to the foot of the bed and rested her hands on its edge, not daring to touch, better to let her sleep and heal.

  Minutes ticked by. Tandy registered the low-pitched whine of a clock on the wall behind her as its second hand swept endlessly around the face. A patient moaned down the hallway. Tandy thanked God that Kendra wasn’t awake to feel the pain.

  Actually, except for the tube in her throat and the lack of light in her eyes, Kendra looked normal. Tandy peered at Kendra’s legs, noting that one thigh was larger than the other. They must have wrapped the burn. She prayed it wasn’t too bad.

  The door opened, allowing in a cool draft of air that swirled around her ankles. Tandy looked up. A short man entered the room, his white coat embroidered with “Dr. Phillips” in black thread. He adjusted his glasses and reached out a hand to her. A clipboard was wedged beneath his other arm.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Phillips. I’m treating your sister.”

  Tandy’s hand automatically went to his, shook it, then released. How odd to be engaging in the formalities of society while her sister lay in a hospital bed. More for her brain to fumble over.

  “Hi. Yes. I’m Tandy Sinclair. Can you tell me … ? Is she … um … , I’m not quite sure what to ask.”

  Dr. Phillips smiled at her and tilted his head. “That’s perfectly understandable. How about I tell you what we’re doing to take care of her, and you let me know if you have any questions, all right?”

  Tandy nodded.

  “Miss Sinclair came in—”

  “Kendra.” Tandy’s voice was soft, but the doctor stopped speaking anyway. “Her name is Kendra.”

  Dr. Phillips cleared his throat. “All right. Kendra came to the ER via helicopter. She dialed 911 after falling in her kitchen. She appeared to have been cooking at the time of her fall and the skillet and contents fell on her thigh, burning the skin. The emergency personnel found her unconscious, presumably from a blow to the head when she fell. She awoke during her air transport to the hospital and was in quite a bit of pain. Morphine was administered, and an allergic reaction resulting in anaphylactic shock immediately followed.”

  Tandy’s throat seized at that. Shock?

  The doctor must have noticed her fear. “It sounds worse than it is. Miss—Kendra—is allergic to morphine. When it’s administered, the tissues in her throat and face swell. Her airway is constricted, and she struggles to breathe. The good news with anaphylactic shock is that it is immediately diagnosed and treated. She was intubated—that’s the tube in her throat—and has had access to oxygen ever since. The tube will be removed in a day or two, depending on how long it takes her body to let go of the swelling.”

  A lump lodged in Tandy’s throat, and she fought to breathe normally. Kendra was right here. Lying in front of her. She was fine. Or she would be fine. The nurse had said so.

  Dr. Phillips continued. “Her burns are severe but treatable. At this time we don’t think that the burn has gone through to the bones, which will make her recovery infinitely easier.”

  “People can burn clear through to their bones?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s quite common in the case of grease fires because grease doesn’t roll off the skin; it spreads. Your sister is very fortunate. She was cooking with olive oil, not lard or butter. Olive oil is thinner and dissipates more quickly.”

  “She’s a health nut,” Tandy murmured.

  “That will work in her favor as well. Kendra is a healthy woman. Her vital signs are terrific, and we expect her to make a full recovery.”

  “How long will she be in the hospital?”

  “That’s a little hard to say. Somewhere in the vicinity of three to five days. Then, of course, she’ll need to return for skin-graft surgery and physical therapy.”

  “Surgery? I thought the nurse said she already had surgery.” Or was it that she needed surgery? Tandy rubbed her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

  “She’s had emergency surgery, but burns require time to heal. The initial surgery removed the dead tissue. We’d like to wait until her airway is healed before we perform further surgery to replace that dead skin with grafts.”

  Tandy struggled to understand all he was saying.

  “What’s the physical therapy for?”

  “Her burn went into the bend of her knee. When burned skin heals, it loses elasticity. We’ll need to work with Kendra to ensure that her skin heals in a way that gives her knee full mobility. She’ll wear pressure garments for a few weeks to help keep the skin from scarring.”

  “Pressure garments?”

  “Think of them like a big ace bandage.”

  Tandy looked back at Kendra. Why had God let this happen? Because she was seeing that strange man? Did God act like that? Throw down punishment like lightning bolts from heaven if you stepped outside His will?

  Tandy shook her head. No, the God of love she knew wouldn’t do that.

  Would He?

  Did people get hurt because they did things they knew God didn’t allow?

  It made sense. People who tried drugs got addicted and either had a downward spiral to death or a lifetime of addiction recovery. People who slept around contracted STDs or unplanned pregnancies. But did people who lie pay a price?

  People who stole?

  Better to ask Daddy when he got here.

  Tandy looked up to find Dr. Phillips’s eyes on her.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to take in.”

  “You’re doing fine.” The doctor’s voice was kind. “I’m going to check on some other patients, and I’ll be back in to answer your questions in a few hours. Do you have more family coming?”

  “My dad and sisters.”

  “Good. Write down any questions that come up. I’ll answer them when I come back.”

  He tucked the clipboard back beneath his arm, and Tandy realized he hadn’t consulted it once during their entire conversation. Did the man memorize the details of all his patients? Naomi had done the same thing though.

  They must really know their stuff. She tucked a curl behind her ear that had fallen loose from her haphazard ponytail. Thank heaven.

  Dr. Phillips left the room, and the cool air again swirled like tendrils around her ankles. It reminded Tandy of the sculpture Kendra created for the Iris Festival Art Contest this year. The first-place trophy now rested inside a glass-enclosed cabinet at Kendra’s apartment, keeping company with other prizes she had been awarded for her art.

  The sculpture of a woman running with all her might, even while fighting vines that were hopelessly tangled around her legs, had been a visual embodiment of Tandy’s life just six months ago. Now Tandy couldn’t help but wonder, had Kendra become the runner?

  A light knock at the door drew her attention. Daddy, Meg, and Joy tumbled through. Daddy’s overalls were covered in dust, no doubt pulled from the tractor by a call to his cell.

  “How’s our girl?” He came around to the bed and touched Kendra’s forehead.

  “Dr. Phillips says she’ll make a full recovery.” Tandy’s voice trembled a bit, the rush of adrenaline leaving her bloodstream and taking with it her staunch bravado.

  “That’s great!” Joy said. “You’ve met the doctor then?”

  Tandy nodded. “He was just here. You missed him by about two minutes. He’s coming back, though, in case we have questions or something.”

  “Well, give us the rundown. What happened?” Meg settled in on the vinyl-covered couch.

  Couch can be a relative term, right? Because couch may be giving that thing too much credit.

  Tandy related everything the doctor had said. As much of it as she could remember, anyway.

  “She hit her head?” Meg dug around in her purse. “Does she have a concussion? James had a concussion last year when he fell in the gym. Remember that, Joy?” She pulled a piece of gum from her purse and unwrapped it.

  “The doctor didn’t say anything about a concussion, but we can ask him about it when he gets here.�
��

  “Wait, we should make a list of what we want to ask him, or we’ll forget.” Joy opened her planner and slipped the pen out of its holder.

  Tandy sent up a prayer of thanks for sisters who were neurotic list makers. And who were more accustomed to dealing with emergencies, obviously, than she.

  “So, first question: Does she have a concussion?” Joy wrote, then looked up. “What else?”

  “How long will she be in the hospital?” Daddy’s giant hand rested on Kendra’s head, his thumb smoothing her forehead.

  “That one I know. Three to five days. Depends on how fast she heals and some other stuff I can’t remember.”

  “What determines when she goes home?” Joy mumbled, writing.

  Tandy pulled a chair up by the bed and sat down. “Hey, has anyone called Darin?”

  “Clay did,” Daddy said, not taking his eyes off Kendra. “He called me and said they’d be here shortly after us.”

  Tandy took Kendra’s limp hand in hers. “Good. I think she’d want him here.”

  “I don’t know,” Meg said. “What about the other man? Has she told Darin about him?”

  “Not as of last night.” Tandy looked at Kendra’s face. Satisfied her sister lay sleeping and oblivious to the conversation, she continued. “She came over to Clay’s, and we all stayed up too late going through wedding magazines and stuff. Darin told Clay she hadn’t said a peep to him about another guy being in the picture.”

  Joy sighed. “Perhaps I misjudged the scenario.”

  “It doesn’t matter either way,” Tandy said. “Darin cares a lot for her, and she cares for him. I watched them together last night. I don’t know if something else is going on outside of that, but I do know she’s into Darin as much as he’s into her. And that means he should be here.”

  “I agree.” Meg pulled out her cell phone and stood up. “I’m going to call Jamison with the update. I’ll be just down the hall, so get me if the doctor comes back or she wakes up, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Meg left, and Joy put the cap back on her pen and sat back on the couch. “This definitely isn’t the day I intended to have when I got up this morning.”

  “Tell me about it.” Tandy kissed the back of Kendra’s hand. “I can hardly believe it. We were sitting on Clay’s floor just a few hours ago, laughing at the hideous colors some women force their friends to wear at weddings.”

  “I thought we were wearing pale gold?”

  “I’m not sure yet. After seeing fuchsia and teal taffeta, though, I’m leaning more toward pale gold.”

  “Ugh! They still make dresses in taffeta?”

  “From the pictures in the magazines, yeah.”

  Joy shook her head. “I have never understood what poor fashion sense has to do with weddings. It’s a day to be beautiful, breathtaking, and glamorous. How does that necessitate bows on our backsides and fat rolls in satin?”

  Tandy laughed, relieved that she still could. “Oh, Joy, stop.”

  “I will not stop.” Joy raised her hand, mock indignation growing. “Not until someone tells these dress manufacturers that they are responsible for thousands of hideous wedding pictures through the years. And not until something is done to stop such atrocities from being perpetrated on bridesmaids around the world.”

  “Wow, passionate, are we?”

  “Perhaps a tad bit.”

  “Well, no need to worry about atrocities at this wedding.” Tandy looked at Kendra, lying so still on the bed. Would she be able to walk down the aisle? Dr. Phillips had said physical therapy would stretch the skin. But if Kendra’s skin didn’t stretch, would she limp? Kendra would hate that. She hated showing any sign of weakness. “Hey, add a question to the list, Joy. Will Kendra walk with a limp after this?”

  “I thought you said she’d have physical therapy.”

  “She will, but I don’t know if she’ll limp anyway.”

  “Okay.” Joy made a note on her paper. “Got it. Any others?”

  “Yeah, when’s she going to wake up?” Daddy’s voice was deep and strained. He hadn’t moved from Kendra’s side since he entered the room.

  “Daddy? You okay?”

  Daddy face looked etched in stone as his unwavering gaze stayed on Kendra. “Soon as our girl wakes up and tells me she’s sick of lying in the bed, starts pitching a fit about hospital food, and demands to go home, I’ll be fine. Till then, I think I’ll stay right here and pray.”

  Was this a good time to ask about a vengeful God? Kendra’s eyes were still closed, so she couldn’t hear the answer anyway.

  “Daddy? Do you think God did this because, you know, Kendra’s seeing that other man?”

  “No, baby girl. I do not.”

  Tandy couldn’t let it go. “Why not? I thought you always said that part of loving a child is punishing them when they do wrong. Couldn’t this be punishment?”

  “Tandy, human parents punish their children when they do wrong. Yes, that’s a way to show love because you love them enough to teach them right from wrong. But God is so much more gracious and merciful than to sit up in heaven with a mighty stick and whack us on the heads every time we get out of line.”

  Daddy paused, and Tandy waited while the breathing machine continued its hiss. “It’s hard to understand because we can’t wrap our minds around just how loving God is. But know this: God knew Kendra before He even made her. He knew every choice she’d make, every action she’d take. And when Kendra chose to believe in Him, to accept that Jesus is God’s Son and that He died for her sins, then she was made blameless in God’s eyes. There’s no reason to punish Kendra because she—and you and Joy and everyone else who believes in Him—is blameless in God’s eyes. Is He using this for His will? Yes. God uses even the bad stuff to bring about good works. But did He reach down from heaven and turn that skillet over on her this morning? No, I don’t think He did. He loves her too much.”

  Tandy wrestled with Daddy’s words, not entirely sure she believed them. If God didn’t do this, then how did it happen? Wasn’t God in charge of everything? Didn’t the Bible say nothing happened to God’s children without it first being filtered through His hands?

  She bit her lip, looking down at the beautiful caramel skin of her sister’s hand. Time enough later to figure it out.

  * * *

  “MAN, THIS CAN’T be happening.” Darin eyed parking spaces as Clay drove up and down looking for an empty one. “Did they tell you anything else?”

  “I’ve told you all I know. She’s burned. She’s in the hospital. That’s it.”

  “You’d think they would have called us with an update by now.” Darin ran his hand down his face and sighed. “There! Right up there.” He pointed to an empty space, and Clay whipped the Mustang into it. Darin went to unbuckle his seat belt, but Clay stopped him.

  “You sure you want to see her? We don’t know who else is up there or what kind of shape she’s in.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Darin shook his arm free and released the safety belt. “If there’s another guy, then I’ll deal with it and be grateful she’s got so many folks pulling for her. And I don’t care what shape she’s in so long as she’s alive.”

  Darin scrambled out of the car, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure Clay was right behind him. For all his bravado, he didn’t know for sure if he could handle what lay just ahead. If another guy stood there by Kendra’s bed, holding her hand, whispering comforting words …

  “Watch out!”

  Darin stumbled backward as Clay’s hand jerked his arm. He caught a glimpse of a motorcycle as it rounded the curve.

  “Didn’t you see him coming?”

  Darin shook his head and resumed his driving pace to the emergency room door. “Nope.”

  They walked in tandem to the nurses’ station, received the same information Tandy had a half hour earlier, and went to find the elevators. They stepped inside, and Clay pushed the button as the elevator doors slid shut. Darin tapped his fingers
on the metal handrail that wrapped itself around the walls of the car. How long did it take to go up eleven floors? He probably could have run it faster than this ancient contraption got them there.

  Finally a ding sounded and the doors whooshed open. Darin’s heart was about to leap out of his body. Somewhere on this floor Kendra was lying. In pain. Please God.

  He struggled to form a better prayer.

  Just … please, God.

  Clay got Kendra’s room number from a nurse behind a circular desk. Darin followed him, no longer propelling them forward but following along in his friend’s wake. His friend who had a right to be here. No doubt Tandy sat beside Kendra, and that gave Clay entry into the room. But would Kendra even want Darin there?

  Of course she would. She wanted you there last night, didn’t she?

  He realized they’d come to a stop in front of a door. Clay looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and sympathy.

  “You sure?”

  Darin drew a deep breath, steeling his heart as best he could for whatever his eyes would take in on the other side of that door. “Yep.”

  Clay pushed on the silver handle, and Darin caught sight of the sisters. Meg and Joy sat on an ugly plastic couch on the far wall. Tandy sat by Kendra’s side, holding her hand. Mr. Sinclair was at Kendra’s head, murmuring to her.

  Thank you, God. It’s her daddy.

  Then he saw the giant tube coming from Kendra’s mouth and gasped. A breathing tube? She needed help breathing? Exactly what had she burned? What happened?

  “Hey, Darin.” Meg got up and walked over to him. She pulled him to Kendra’s bedside. “Don’t worry. It looks worse than it is. She had an allergic reaction to the morphine, and her throat swelled up. They’ll pull that tube out in a couple of days, and we’ll have our bossy Kendra back.”

  Darin swallowed hard. A couple of days? “What happened?”

  Tandy, now nestled in the crook of Clay’s arm, told him everything she knew.

 

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