Romancing Melody

by Carrie Daws

  “I need to ask you if you want us to continue all possible life-saving measures until his body gives out, or if you’d prefer to sign a Do Not Resuscitate order.”

  Melody’s hand flew to her mouth as she listened to the doctor.

  “We’ve given him everything there is to give him. He needs surgery to have a fair chance, but he’s too sick to survive the procedure. His O2 sats are currently in the low 80s, and his heart rate is in the 190s. He’s in critical condition.”

  She took a deep breath. “What exactly does a Do Not Resuscitate order mean?”

  “We won’t stop any of his medications, and we’ll continue to help him fight the RSV as best we can. But if his heart gives out, we won’t do CPR or use any life-saving medications.”

  “I . . . I just don’t know. Can I think about it?”

  “Of course. The nurses have the paperwork if you decide you want to sign it.”

  Melody could barely function as the doctor hung up. Tears streamed down her face as the hand holding the phone dropped to her lap.

  “Oh, honey.” Melody’s mom took the phone and sat down beside her. She felt her hair being stroked.

  “I want my baby, Mom.” She turned into her mom’s open arms and buried her face into her mom’s shoulder as the sobs came. “I want my baby.”

  Chapter 11

  AFRAID OF WHAT SHE MIGHT find, Melody had taken her time getting to the hospital the next morning. Now that she was looking at her son through the window, she couldn’t make herself go in. Cole didn’t look alive.

  Outside of the ventilator’s steady pumping of his chest, she saw no movement. Tubes or wires seemed to be coming from every part of his body, connected to machines that had multiplied overnight. And his color was a sickening shade of gray.

  “Come on, honey.”

  Her mom’s hand on her shoulder offered little comfort as she forced herself through the doorway. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Melody. You need to be here. You’d . . .”

  “Need? I need to be here, Mom?” Melody felt her throat tightening and her eyes burning. “To do what? Please tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do!”

  “Ma’am?” A nurse in blue scrubs popped through the doorway. “I can only imagine how difficult this must be, but I’m going to have to ask you to hold it down or step outside. I can’t have you yelling in here and disturbing any of the babies.” She looked at Cole and back at Melody. “Including your own.”

  Melody closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry.” She refocused on the nurse before her. “I’ll try to be more quiet.”

  “All right. Is there anything I can get you? Answer any questions?”

  Melody looked at her son, her Cole. Fresh tears coated her eyes and overflowed. She could barely squeak out a response to the kind nurse waiting so patiently. “His daddy will be home tonight from Afghanistan. Will he make it until then?”

  “Your baby’s holding steady right now. There are a couple things we can do to help him hold on. Have you signed the DNR?”

  Melody shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t want to give up on him. What if he just needs a little more time?” Melody looked at the nurse. “Couldn’t the medicine still work? Haven’t other babies survived when the doctors thought there was no hope?”

  Melody appreciated the look she saw in the nurse’s eyes. She saw kindness, not pity. Sadness. This nurse really cares.

  “I’ll tell you, ma’am. I’ve worked in the PICU for almost 20 years, and I’ve seen a lot of amazing things that the doctors couldn’t explain. But I also know a lot about the body and how it works. I believe God could step in and heal your son, and some of the doctors here would be absolutely baffled.”

  The nurse looked at the monitors that filled her brief pause with beeps as they worked. “But without that miracle, these machines tell me your baby is hurting. We’ve made him comfortable, and he may not consciously know he’s in pain, but honey, his body is shutting down on him. Whether you sign the DNR or not, he doesn’t have a lot of time left.”

  “So, why should I sign it, then? If it’s not going to make a difference?”

  “There are certainly some things we can do if his little heart stops beating to try to get it going again. We can perform CPR and give him some medications. But most likely, with him in the condition he’s in, all it’s going to do is prolong the inevitable, probably do him more harm than good, and send you on a roller coaster of emotions.”

  Melody looked at Cole. Signing that paper means giving up, but what hope do I have? “If it’s possible, I’d like him to make it until his daddy gets here.”

  Melody sat in the chair by Cole’s bed, her face turned to the door. People walked by, but she couldn’t really focus on any of it. It felt like her life was one drawn out day after another. Part of her longed to escape. Part of her waited for the next bit of bad news. The news was always bad.

  “Melody, honey, why don’t we go for a walk?”

  Her mother had been flitting about the room for the last ten minutes, straightening up as if they were just visiting a friend and needed to clean up behind themselves.

  “I don’t want to go for a walk, Mom.”

  “It’s a beautiful, sunny day.”

  Melody didn’t respond.

  “It’s a lovely October day out there. A little sun would do us good.”

  Melody closed her eyes. “I don’t want to.”

  “Come on. We could walk a couple blocks and find a nice place to get some lunch.”

  Melody rubbed her temples. “We’re not on vacation, Mom. Warm sunshine and a nice lunch are not going to change what is happening in this room. My baby is still dying.”

  “Yes, he is. But you still need to eat.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Come on. My treat.”

  Dorothy grabbed her purse and walked to the door, pausing long enough to give Melody the impression that this wasn’t negotiable. Truth was, Melody didn’t have the strength to fight her.

  They walked out the front doors of the hospital and turned left. Melody simply kept pace with her mom as they walked.

  Near the corner of Research Drive, Melody caught the eyes of a woman walking towards them. The woman smiled, and Melody returned the gesture as best she could.

  Just as they were about to pass each other, the woman spoke. “God loves you.”

  Melody came to an abrupt stop and looked at her. “What?”

  “Whatever is going on in your life, God loves you.”

  Melody sucked in her breath. “Why would you say that to a stranger on the street?”

  Melody’s mom reached out and touched her arm.

  The woman shrugged. “Something told me that you needed the reminder.” She took a couple steps and looked over her shoulder. “Look for Him. He’s waiting.”

  “Him? Who?” What is she talking about?

  The woman simply looked up before looking back at Melody. Then, after an understanding smile, she continued on her way.

  Melody stood dumbfounded for a moment. God? She wants me to look for God? Who does she think she is?

  “Melody?”

  She turned and looked at her mom. “Who does she think she is?”

  “Come on.” Her mom began to walk towards Erwin Terrace, and Melody followed.

  “You can’t just go around telling people stuff like that. She has no right!”

  Melody’s mother gave a slight sigh. “She has the right to speak if she wants to.”

  “She has no idea what I’m going through. How dare she infer God cares! That He’s waiting. Waiting for what? Cole to die? This is not love! This is not what love looks like!”

  Her mom spun around. “Maybe He’s waiting on you to stop having this constant temper tantrum!”

  Melody gasped. “My child is dying!”

  “And he’s my grandchild and Patricia’s nephew. His illness affects more than you. We’ve put our lives on hold to fly out here
to help.”

  “Then go home.”

  “That’s not the point! Cole is important to us. But when is the last time you got out of your own head long enough to find out how I was doing, how I’m holding up?”

  “It’s not about you!”

  Dorothy stopped and inhaled deeply. “You’re right, Melody. It’s not about me. Cole’s illness, David’s deployment, you moving across the country from all your family and friends—none of it is about me.”

  She pointed her finger at Melody. “But it’s not about you, either.”

  Melody looked at her briefly. She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, let alone on a busy street just down from the hospital. She clenched her fists and tried to control her breathing. “I’m going back to Cole’s room. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Melody glanced at the clock for the millionth time as she sat in the chair by Cole’s bed. It was 8:17. She waited for David. One of the chaplains from Ft. Bragg was picking him up at the airport and bringing him straight to the hospital.

  Her mother had left just before 6:00pm, driving Melody’s Accord home. Not that they had really spoken since their argument on the street. She said she wanted to spend a quiet evening with her sister. Melody doubted that Aunt Patricia was going to be quiet. The woman had gotten increasingly vocal about God’s plan in all this, and she could only imagine what would be said about the afternoon spat.

  A tear fell down Melody’s cheek, and she looked at what was once her lively baby. God, if You really are out there, I don’t like Your plan.

  Chapter 12

  THE PLANE TOUCHED DOWN, AND David had to force himself to remain seated. He had left Kunar Province Wednesday afternoon, which was early Wednesday morning in North Carolina. Now it was Saturday.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the flight attendant, “we know you have a choice when flying, and we’d like to thank you for flying with us today. The pilot will have us at the gate in just a moment and will turn off the seatbelt sign when it is safe for you to get up from your seats. Local time is 7:26pm.”

  “If I may have your attention for just another moment, tonight we have a soldier traveling with us, home from Afghanistan and trying to get to Duke University Children’s Hospital to see his son. I respectfully ask that everyone remain seated and allow him to leave the plane first.”

  David teared up at the flight attendant’s gesture. In the last four days, he’d traveled 9,000 miles, and he had seen God’s hand several times. Teammates prayed him safely out of Kunar, a helicopter pilot who happened to be heading in the right direction, a kind nurse who had been seated beside him on the flight out of Frankfurt, Germany, and sweet USO volunteers who had provided shaving cream, razors, and soap during his layover in Chicago. Thank goodness he’d had to time to wash up and change into a fresh uniform.

  The seatbelt sign released, and David bolted out of his seat, popped the overhead compartment, and grabbed his bag. Just before leaving the plane, he stopped to look back at his fellow air travelers. Struggling to hold back the tears, he simply nodded his head. “Thank you.”

  A chaplain was waiting for him, and they headed for the parking garage.

  “Do you know anything, sir?”

  “Not much, Sergeant. But I understand time is critical.”

  David set his jaw as he followed the man to the government-issued vehicle. Father, let me make it in time.

  David stood speechless in the doorway of his son’s hospital room. His heart froze at the stillness of his child, lying there barely recognizable. My boy has been replaced by a swollen, discolored …

  No kind word came to mind.

  Sitting in the chair near the crib, Melody turned and saw him standing there. “David!” She sprang up and into his arms, sobbing.

  Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. God, You’ve got this, right?

  Releasing Melody, he moved closer to the crib, taking in all the machines. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would cooperate. “What are the doctors saying?”

  “There’s nothing more they can do. He needs surgery to have a chance, but the RSV and pneumonia have taken over his lungs, and he’s too weak. They’ve got him on pain meds now—and a ventilator. And they’ve sedated him and paralyzed him so he won’t fight the tubes.”

  “So there’s no hope?” David couldn’t believe he was saying that. He looked at her, hoping to see something in her eyes that would tell him he was overreacting.

  She just shook her head and wiped at the tears.

  “I want to hold him.”

  “David, you can’t. Not with everything connected to him.”

  “He’s not dying alone in that bed.”

  “We’re right here! I’ve been right beside him all day!”

  “Mel, I need to hold him. I left him, maybe when he needed me most. I won’t abandon him now.”

  “Is there a problem in here?” A heavyset nurse pushed past the chaplain, who was still standing in the doorway.

  David turned to face the nurse standing like a formidable tank before him. “I want to hold my son.”

  “David, you can’t.”

  “Let me go get a doctor.” The nurse strode out of the room, and Melody turned away from David. Neither spoke as they waited. Minutes ticked past, and David struggled to control his urge to grab Cole.

  “Evening, folks. I’m Dr. Campbell, the doctor on duty this evening. Can I answer any questions for you?”

  David automatically sized up the doctor as he’d been trained to size up the Afghan villagers, looking for people friendly to the American forces. About David’s height and weight, he seemed professional and a straight shooter. “I want to hold my son,” said David.

  “Okay. Have you been updated on his condition?”

  “Needs heart surgery, won’t survive it, sick with RSV and pneumonia.” David heard Melody’s gasp and realized how cold his synopsis must sound. “Look doctor, I left North Carolina with a healthy baby boy. Down range, I’m told he’s dying. Is that accurate?”

  The doctor sighed. “Yes, it is.”

  “Are these machines keeping him alive?”

  “Not entirely. But they are greatly assisting. He probably would not last long without the ventilator.”

  “And how long does he have if we leave him as he is now?”

  The doctor looked at David for a moment before answering. “A few days. Probably less.”

  Melody looked ready to crumble into a heap on the floor. David slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “So, what needs to happen for me to be able to hold him?”

  “I need to get a little more information from you; then we’ll get you situated. Are you looking to hold him while he’s still connected to everything, or do you want us to pull him off the ventilator?”

  “Doesn’t he need the ventilator to breathe?”

  “Yes, as long as the paralytic is in his system.”

  “I don’t fully understand. How can the ventilator be an option?”

  “We can cut off the paralytic,” the doctor explained, “and it would slowly work itself out of his system. Once he began to regain some movement, we could remove the tubes and get him off it.”

  “What does all that mean for his life expectancy?” David felt Melody leaning more heavily against him.

  “If we take the ventilator out now, he’d only last about ten minutes. The muscles just wouldn’t regain movement fast enough, and his body would be deprived of oxygen. If we cut the paralytic now, he would need to remain on the ventilator for about two hours. Then he should have sufficient control to breathe on his own for a short time.”

  “How short?”

  “It’s hard to say …”

  “Doctor, how long?”

  The doctor glanced from Melody to David. “Thirty minutes. Maybe an hour. I don’t think his heart can take much more than that.”

  David squeezed Melody tight. “Make it happen.”

  “No!” Melody stru
ggled out of David’s embrace. “David, you can’t give up on him.”

  “Mel, it doesn’t matter if we cut the paralytic and pull the ventilator or not. Cole’s not going to get a different outcome. But we can hold him close in his final moments.”

  Melody walked over to the chair and sat down hard.

  “I need to do this, Mel. I need to hold my son.”

  She stared at the crib for a moment. “I don’t think I can.”

  He crouched before her, grabbing her hands. “I’ll do it for both of us.”

  David watched the tears stream down her face and a flood of emotions pass through her eyes. Finally, she nodded.

  For two hours David patiently held Cole, carefully maneuvering around tubes and wires until he began to see the boy’s eyes flutter. The nurses had come in then to disconnect him from the ventilator, and now David held him close and stroked the peach fuzz on his head. His son moved occasionally, and David could almost pretend the child was just sleeping instead of sedated.

  David hummed softly. He tried to take in every part of his child, purposely bringing memories to the front of his mind. Watching his birth had been the highlight of his twenty-two years. Until Cole smiled. Nothing is as great as your smile, boy.

  He’d looked forward to Cole’s first steps and teaching him to ride a bike. Now he’d have to reconcile missing most of his child’s short life. Duty called and I answered, but I missed so much of you.

  David let the tears flow as he looked at Cole’s tiny fingers. Fingers that never got to build with blocks or throw a football. Oh, God, how do I survive this? How am I supposed to go on from here?

  Just as he thought his emotions would get the best of him, Melody returned from calling her mom. Unshed tears and unspoken questions filled her eyes, questions she didn’t seem to want to voice. Questions he probably didn’t have answers to, anyway.

  He shifted Cole to one arm and opened his other to his wife. She gently sat in his lap, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around their son.

  Barely above a whisper, David heard Melody say, “I love you, Cole.”

  “We both love you, son,” said David. “We’ll never forget you.”