“Daddy,” she heard Cherish scream as the door closed behind the men who carried him. In her little arms, Confetti squirmed and meweled to be free, her eyes as wild as Cherish’s own, her claws digging into the girl who refused to let her go.
Jason, Juanito Iglesias, and Eugenie’s husband, Mark, did their best to gather all of their other guests together as the twins, coughing, ran into the room to see what was happening.
“Daddy’s gone,” Cherish told them, her voice high pitched and shaky. “Some men came and put him on a bed and his head was bleeding, and he’s gone.”
Lord, what am I going to do? What am I going to tell them? What do You want from me? Haven’t we been through enough, Paloma thought bitterly as tears streamed down her face.
Images of her husband laying in the hospital in the days after his heart surgery flashed through her mind; she heard the words of his surgeons, who said he’d died three times but they’d been able to bring him back.
She turned her eyes to Me’chelle, looking up into the dark, beautiful depths of them.
What could she say?
She had no words.
They refused to budge from her throat.
As if on cue, Me’chelle and Eugenie seemed to know what she needed, because they gathered their own children, as well as the younger Iglesias’ kids and Edward and Paloma’s trio and deftly ushered them to another part of the house, away from the adults. Paloma could hear their footsteps as they climbed stairs to the second level, then heard the extra bedroom door open, shut; still more footsteps.
“Paloma,” Mark said, shaking her out of her trance as he quickly readjusted his glasses. “Paloma, come on. Let me take you to the hospital. They’re headed to St. Vincent’s… I overheard them on the radio receiver.”
St. Vincent’s?
They’d never once been to St. Vincent’s.
No doctor there knew him, and none knew his medical history aside from whatever Jason told them when she was unable to function moments earlier.
So why there?
It was further away, and there’d likely be traffic piled up in one, if not both directions between the house and the hospital.
She nodded as she shrugged her shoulders, not comprehending. Did it matter where they took him so long as he was getting help?
But it’s so far away, she protested inside her mind. So very far away. What if he…? What if…?
She forced herself to shake off the thoughts as she ran for her purse. But what about her guests?
She turned back, looking for her brother, whose eyes locked on hers immediately
“I’ve got this,” he said. “You go with Mark, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ll take the kids to our place,” he assured her. “And before we go, we’re going to pray like there’s no tomorrow and like everything depends on God because, for Edward, right now… it’s the truth, whether we like it or not.”
Six
Portland, Oregon… January 30, 2020
It had been four days since Edward arrived at the hospital, and Paloma was exhausted.
The kids – as well as Confetti the cat – had stayed with her brother and sister-in-law, in spite of the fact that the twins had come down with colds mere hours before Edward had collapsed.
She’d felt bad leaving them there – especially with the potential for cold germs to spread and for Confetti to get into it with Sylvester, their Jack Russell Terrier – but she just couldn’t leave her husband in this state.
Not if she could help it.
Just the thought of Edward regaining consciousness and not finding her there made her shudder.
And finally, when she’d just about given up hope that he ever would, he had woken up in the middle of the night.
She had been awake until a few minutes before he’d roused, but a nurse had assured her that he had stirred three times, each for less than five minutes, and fallen back asleep. But why they hadn’t awakened her with such crucial information was beyond her.
It seemed unprofessional and showed a lack of care for the mental and emotional wellbeing of the family not to tell them he was awake so they could see it for themselves, didn’t it?
Nothing to be done about it now, she thought, tenderly caressing the fingers she held between her hands.
His eyelids fluttered a few moments as though he might open them again, but after a while, it was evident he was either too tired or his body wasn’t listening to the brain signal.
“I wish they’d gotten me up to see you, my Love,” she whispered, smiling down at him. “It didn’t matter how tired I was. You would be worth it… they should have awakened me. They knew I was here waiting for good news, and that’s the best news of all.”
The doctors still hadn’t been able to tell her what had happened, exactly, though they had run test after test after test on him trying to get to the bottom of it.
Were they hiding something, or did they truly not have any idea what was going on?
Surely they’d run into similar cases, even if they weren’t exactly alike. Otherwise, why run the tests they had; some of them quite specific?
“We can tell you it’s not his heart, and it’s not his lungs,” Doctor Little had told her the night before. The short, round, and nearly bald doctor had been kind enough, but the news had been more than a little unsettling.
“We think there’s something going on with his mind that’s affecting the functioning of his body, or lack thereof… and it affects his heart and lungs but… we still have to do a few more tests to figure it out. The problem isn’t originating from either. It has to be something with his brain. There is no other explanation we’ve been able to pinpoint,” he had continued to say, reaching out to pat her awkwardly on the arm.
And it had taken nearly a day and a half of insistence on her part – and signing forms – before they finally agreed to call Doctor Gregory, who had come to look at Edward’s tests and consult with them within a few hours of the call.
Still, though, even with Doctor Gregory’s input, nobody had given her any more information, and when she’d stepped outside to call Daniella and Max to see if they’d heard of such a thing, they said they’d look into it and ask around, but they were just as clueless-sounding as Doctor Little and his colleagues.
Half the time, friends and family had been able to be there – at least one or more people, but the other half – when there was work to be done, she was left alone with her thoughts, her husband’s worn out mind, and doctors that avoided half of her queries.
It had given her hours of quiet at a time to pray. Too, she had read the Bible to him sometimes, hoping that the people who said coma patients could hear were right. And because, before he’d awakened, the doctors had said he may never open his eyes – simply because sometimes people don’t – she had brought in Don Quixote, Jane Eyre, The Grapes of Wrath, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court - which seemed ironically fitting- as well as Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes, and The Jungle Book,.
If he could indeed hear, she wanted to make sure there was something of interest to him… the Bible for encouragement, and stories to get his mind up and running.
“Better to be prepared for the long haul while still believing for a miracle,” her Momma had always told her. She just never thought she’d have to utilize the advice as her husband lay in a coma and her kids were staying with other people.
Sometimes, she spoke to him about everyday life, and other times, she read. A few times, she’d gotten angry with either God or Edward for there being no true warning, and then berated herself.
Of course, there had been warning signs. She just didn’t know what to do with them; how to interpret them, and Edward’s lack of mentioning them most of the time didn’t help things, though she certainly wasn’t going to put blame on him for what had happened.
She’d reminded herself, over and over, the signs were there; they really were. What did she th
ink the migraines – so uncharacteristic to his nature – had been? Certainly not a fluke, so what connected them to everything else that was going on?
The sound of a knock on the door, gentle though it was, startled her.
“Come in,” she said quietly as she moved to stand, hoping it was finally an answer.
Instead, it was her brother, bearing Taco Bell bags and a frown between his eyebrows.
“You’ve got to go get some rest and a shower,” he said. “So eat, and Eugenie’s going to come get you in a little while. I’m going to stay right here by Edward’s side,” he said as she opened her mouth to protest. “I won’t leave until you come back rested; I promise. But you can’t take care of him if you don’t take care of yourself.”
Paloma finally acquiesced to the bag of food, in spite of how little food appealed to her.
He was right.
She knew he was, but just the thought of not being here if…
But she knew she could trust Jason.
She could.
And she’d have to. She’d have to because he was right, and he was her brother, and he’d never steered her wrong. She’d have to because she would go crazy sitting here talking to God and her husband without any word, and little sleep.
She unwrapped and quickly ate first one burrito, then a second before setting the rest of the bag aside. She drank some of the water her brother had provided, and tried to think past the pain in her head… past the worry invading her heart that threatened to pull her apart if she didn’t get ahold of it and shake it off.
“Hey,” Jason told her. “It’s going to be alright. People all across this country are praying, and probably across the world by now. God isn’t going to take him,” he said. “Not today. Go rest; shower; see the kids and gather hugs from the gals. Get loved on some, and I’ll be here. If anything happens, I’ll call you. If you turn the phone off to rest… I’ll call Me’chelle. She’ll let you know if you’re needed here. I promise. Go to our place if it makes you feel better, or to your own, but you have to sleep; you have to rest. For your own sanity, you’ve got to,” he said again as Eugenie popped her head in.
“Besides, your ride is here now,” he said, smiling at her with tears clinging to the edges of his pale blue eyes as he pulled her in for a hug.
After a few quick words between her brother and Eugenie, Paloma silently followed the woman down to the elevator.
She could feel herself dragging; her body heavy and exhausted.
Paloma had vowed to herself to turn her phone back up by the time they arrived at Eugenie’s car, but too tired even to attempt it, she let her friend buckle her in. The next thing she knew, she was being tucked into bed at home.
Whether she walked there with help or someone had carried her there, she had no idea, but for the moment she could care less.
Seven
Paloma awakened with a start to find herself alone in the dark, empty house.
What had happened, and how had she gotten home? What was going on with Edward? Why wasn’t she at the hospital, at his side? What would he think if she wasn’t there waiting for him?
She bolted upright, hitting her arm on the side table as the memories from Jason’s visit submerged her, They pulled at her like the undertow of the sea.
“Ouch,” she exclaimed as she rubbed her elbow a minute and then reached for the lamp switch.
Once the glare from the light no longer bothered her, she glanced around.
Her purse, still zipped shut, was next to her on Edward’s pillow, and the clock nearby read 4:01 AM. The clothes she had been wearing when she’d left the hospital with Eugenie – including her coat and shoes – were still on, and she could feel a trace of sweat along the side she’d been lying on.
Had she really slept for over twelve hours? It was impossible, wasn’t it? How could she be so careless? Her husband awaited her, whether he was awake or not.
She quickly unzipped the purse and dumped it upside down, rummaging through the contents as quickly as her mind would allow.
What must Jason be thinking?
She hadn’t showered yet… and she hadn’t seen the kids, or made sure things were alright between the cat and dog. She hadn’t eaten anything but the two burritos she’d scarfed down before Eugenie arrived to bring her home, and before that, she didn’t recall when she’d eaten at all.
She could taste the foulness of her mouth and cringed; how had she neglected to brush her teeth, at least? It’s not as if it took much more than five minutes to keep up on oral hygiene!
Her lips curved into a frown of disgust, and, opening and closing her mouth a few times, she forced herself not to think about it.
She couldn’t.
Finally moving to stand, she quickly found something to change into, got a towel from the hall closet, and made her way toward the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a nice hot shower. When she was finished there, she started a load of laundry, turned on water for tea, and looked in the fridge and freezer to see what was available, her belly in full grumble mode.
It took a bit of doing, but once she decided on something, she cooked it quickly, calling Jason while it simmered to let him know she’d awakened.
Had Edward?
Since there were no messages from him, it was hard to know for sure; she hadn’t listened to the eleven that were on her phone yet, but at the moment, it wasn’t her highest priority.
“Sorry, Sis, but he hasn’t done anything more than flutter his eyelids a few times. The doc that was in here an hour or so ago – a Doctor Little - well, he said it was a fairly common occurrence with brain issues to waken very sporadically, or not at all, for several days,” Jason told her as she poured the water for her tea and turned off the burner underneath.
“But he also said that, because Edward woke up the other night – no matter how brief – it means there’s less possibility of permanent brain damage,” her brother continued. She could hear footsteps on his side of the phone and imagined him walking back and forth down the hallway, as she had done.
“I asked about that, specifically, but didn’t really get a reply I understood all that well. Something to do with brain oxygen and such. But Doctor Little says he thinks they finally know what caused him to pass out to begin with, which is something, at least,” she heard him say as she finished cooking the hamburger- sausage mixture she’d been preparing and sliced up some cheese. She pulled a few leaves off the lettuce as she replied.
“Okay, so what… what exactly did Doctor Little – or any other doctor or nurse that came in with pertinent news – say, that you recall?”
“Well,” Jason began again. “They think it’s a combination of two things, both of which they asked permission to treat. The first is related to blood gas levels… too much carbon dioxide, which they’ve been working on for more than two days; the doctor said he spoke with you about that,” Jason continued.
Paloma nodded somberly as she dropped the cheese into the meat mixture she’d spooned out over the lettuce. “I remember something about that, yes, but it’s all been such a fog to me that I…,” she paused.
“Sorry, just… well, go on….”
“Well, the doctor said that related to that, there’s something to do with low phosphate, which they’ve been treating, as well,” he continued. “But the second thing, which the doc said they only just found, was some sort of specialized chemical toxicity… something related to vinyl chloride? I didn’t even know there was such a thing,” he said, pausing a moment. “Why they didn’t check for it earlier, I don’t know, but at least… they’re working on it. They tested to see if there are any brain tumors earlier, which you know, and thank God that was clear, considering occurrences with the type of exposure; they’re checking his liver, too, now. They took him for a test a little bit ago.”
The liver?
“What does the liver have to do with it? I mean, I know it has to do with toxins in general, but with coma,” she asked, finally able to get a word in
as she tossed her food together. “And where would he have been exposed to…”
“That’s what we have to figure out, once the doctors have things under better control. They’re planning on sending someone to the house, to the office, to anywhere he spends lots of time, to check it all out. They’ll have someone call you; it isn’t the hospital themselves doing the check,” he told her as she took out some thousand island ranch and drizzled it over her food.
“Oh… here they are now, wheeling him back in my direction. I better go. I’ll call you in the event there’s something new, but in the meantime… go see the kids, do what you’ve got to do, and I’ll see you when you get here; take your time. I was able to get a good long nap.”
As Paloma hung up with her brother, her mind began to work in hyper-speed. So why couldn’t she function in it?
She ate her meal, put food out for the chickens to save someone a trip that morning, and checked the clock again.
Was it really only 6:25? After all of that?
Me’chelle likely wouldn’t be up with the kids for nearly another hour and a half!
Paloma yawned and headed back to her room, where she set the alarm.
Maybe… just maybe, she could get a little more sleep in before heading over there, then… if her mind would just allow her to get more rest. Myriad contemplations crowded in on her, and concerns tried to drown her, but she began to pray… to assault the worries and fight back against them.
There was no way she and her family were going to give in to chemicals, electrolytes, and whatever else may be off-kilter within the body of her beloved.
Now that they had some idea what was happening, they were going to fight with as much prayer as they could muster and trust and hope in God that He would once more spare Edward’s life.
He just can’t go out like this, God, she prayed, hands raised toward the ceiling. I praise You for keeping him alive thus far, but You can’t take him like this! He has too much to live for, and so much to offer and bless people with, she continued. So whatever this cocktail of imbalances is, and whatever else might be going on that they may not have detected, Father, please… please, help them to do their best as You do Yours. And it’s for Your glory and in the name of Your Son, Jesus the Christ I ask You, she prayed, tears streaming down her face, down her neck, moistening her clavicles as she lay there refusing to wipe them away. May You be praised forever in this. Amen.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 6