The Healing Touch (Stories from hope haven)

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The Healing Touch (Stories from hope haven) Page 5

by Hanson


  “Just getting an antacid,” he explained when he came back the second time. “Guess I’m paying a price for the great dinner.”

  “We need to talk about that,” she murmured, but she was much too sleepy to start that conversation in the middle of the night.

  In the morning, Cam was his usual self, beating her to the kitchen and pouring out a modest portion of bran flakes for himself.

  “I have a few errands to do,” he said as she joined him at the breakfast bar.

  “If you’re going into town, wait until I get off work. I’d like to go too. I need a few toiletries at the drugstore.” She sipped coffee and thought about making herself some toast.

  “I’m going there. If you like, I can pick up the things you need,” he offered.

  “No, I like to do my own shopping. I always think of something else I can use when I wander down the aisles.”

  “If you’re sure—I just thought you might like to have me do all the shopping.”

  “Don't you want me to come with you?” His unusual behavior last night had left her a little skeptical.

  “Of course I do. But I plan to stop in at the company and see what Evan has on order. You know how much I enjoy it when the spring shipments come. My fingers itch to start planting.”

  “I wouldn't mind saying hello to our son,” she assured him. “Once it gets warmer, he’ll be too busy to visit with his parents.” She was mostly teasing, but she did miss their son when he got especially busy.

  After her shift, they went together to Peterson's Pharmacy. Anabelle went to the cosmetics area to look for her favorite moisturizer and bath powder.

  “I’ll meet you at the front,” her husband said.

  She nodded but noticed that he headed toward the back of the store and the prescription counter. There was something he wasn't telling her, but she decided to wait until they were out of the store to quiz him.

  “I guess you saw me pick up some medicine,” he said a bit sheepishly when they were back in the car.

  “Yep. Do you want to tell me what it is?”

  He sighed. “My blood pressure was a little high at the doctor's. I’m supposed to take one of these pills every day.” He handed her the white paper sack that contained his prescription.

  “Why didn't you tell me yesterday?” She didn't know whether to feel hurt or angry. It wasn't at all like her husband to keep secrets.

  “I wanted to have a memorable meal before I start watching what I eat. The doctor said I’d have to make some changes in my diet. I guess you could call it my last supper.”

  “Oh, Cam.” She was exasperated, concerned, and compassionate, all at the same time.

  He started the engine but didn't pull out of the parking lot.

  “I guess you’re mad at me for not telling you. If I had, you probably wouldn't have gone to the Heritage House.”

  “I would have,” she said thoughtfully. “Only I would have urged you to order sensibly.”

  “I’m not crazy about the trout you ordered. I had beef Wellington in mind.”

  “You could have had it as a treat without all the extras.”

  “I was up half the night with a stomachache, so I guess I paid the price,” he grumbled.

  “You know that prescription alone won't solve the problem,” she said, staring at the pill bottle.

  “I just assume it's not unusual for people my age to have high blood pressure. It's not that serious.”

  She sighed, knowing that the worst thing he could do was deny that he had a real problem.

  “We’ll work on it together,” she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful.

  “We always do,” he said, reaching over and patting her hand.

  She covered his hand with hers, affirming the partnership they’d shared for many years, but her mind was buzzing with questions. As a nurse, she knew that high blood pressure could be dangerous, but it was quite another thing to live with a loved one who had to control his. How would Cam's diet have to change? What about exercise? Was he getting enough? In Illinois it was often hard to even walk outside in the winter.

  She pulled her hands away and sank back on the seat. This was going to be a challenge, but she dearly loved her husband. She would do whatever she could to help him.

  Chapter Six

  CANDACE GLANCED AT HER WATCH AND WAS surprised to see that it was only a little after ten o’clock. For some reason, the Saturday shift always seemed longer than those during the week. Maybe it was because she knew her children were home from school and there were things she could be doing with them. Fortunately, she’d changed her schedule to work Monday through Friday, but today was the exception. She’d changed with a nurse who wanted to attend her sister's wedding.

  They hadn't had a single new admission in the Birthing Unit since yesterday morning, which was fairly unusual. Riley Hohmann, the nurse supervisor on her shift, had given Candace the job of taking inventory in a supply cabinet, but it wasn't a job that made time go quickly. She was happy for the diversion when she heard a commotion at the nurses’ station and went to see what was happening.

  “I don't feel well at all,” a young woman wailed. “I’m afraid my baby’s coming.”

  “Did your doctor tell you to come directly here?” Riley asked, frowning because the patient hadn't followed the usual procedure for checking in.

  “No, I decided,” her husband said, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

  He was a husky young man with a reddish complexion and thin, light-colored hair and eyebrows. He’d pushed his wife there in a wheelchair and was hovering over her.

  “Have you called your doctor?” Riley asked patiently.

  “All I got was her answering service. I left a message for her to meet us here. I didn't wait for them to find her. Who knows when she’d call us back,” the husband said.

  “I’m sure she would have responded very quickly. Are you having contractions?” the nurse supervisor asked the woman.

  “She's hot all over,” the husband said without giving his wife a chance to answer. “Weak and sick feeling. The baby is due in a couple of weeks, but she has stomach pains. We don't want to take any chances. Aren't you going to take her to a room or something?”

  “I really don't feel well,” the woman said.

  “What's your name?” Riley asked.

  “Lance and Nadine Bronson. This is our second kid,” he said impatiently.

  “And your doctor's name?”

  “Dr. Carpenter.”

  “She lives a couple of blocks from the hospital, so she should be here soon,” Riley said. “I’ll give her a call to see if she's on the way. Meanwhile, Nurse Crenshaw will check your temperature and pulse.”

  Candace had a bad feeling about this woman. She certainly was far along in her pregnancy, but she didn't seem like a woman ready to give birth.

  When Riley got off the phone, Candace motioned her aside and gave her the bad news.

  “Her temp is one hundred and two.”

  “I suspected as much. You’d better get her down to emergency.”

  Candace pushed the wheelchair over the husband's protests. If this woman had the flu, the first concern was to isolate her from the patients and babies in the Birthing Unit. Fortunately the elevator was empty, and she was able to get the woman to the ER without contact with anyone else.

  Dr. Weller immediately sized up the situation and took the patient to an isolated cubicle. Candace didn't know how far the committee working on emergency procedures had progressed, but the young doctor obviously took this woman's fever seriously.

  “What's going on?” her husband demanded to know. “My wife could be having a baby any time now.”

  “Your wife is ill,” the doctor said, focusing his attention on the patient. “She's not going to deliver any time soon.”

  Candace knew she wasn't needed, but she waited a few minutes and followed Dr. Weller when he left the cubicle. Riley would want to know his diagnosis.

  �
�It looks like we may have our first flu patient,” the doctor said with a worried frown. “I’m going to admit her for tests and isolate her until we’re sure. It's bad news that she's nearly nine months pregnant.”

  Riley was anxiously waiting when Candace got back to her unit.

  “Dr. Weller says it looks like flu. The lab will have to determine whether it's the strain we’re worried about.”

  “I’ve already scrubbed and changed clothes,” the nurse supervisor said. “I’ll cover for you while you do the same. If the baby comes before the mother gets a clean bill of health, Dr. Carpenter will handle it without our help. This is my worst nightmare—the possibility of an epidemic in our unit.”

  Candace agreed. She fervently prayed that the mothers and babies in their care wouldn't be infected.

  Before this, she’d thoroughly approved of the task force and the efforts to be prepared, but now the threat seemed real for the first time. Candace saw how easy it had been for a sick person to evade the usual registration procedures. How many people had the patient met in the lobby or elevator? Did her husband have the virus too? Would he spread it to others where he worked? This wasn't the Bronsons’ first child. Would flu go through their family? What about their babysitter, the person who was watching their other child? She shuddered at the prospect of one sick woman starting an epidemic.

  She wanted to skip her lunch and stay with their patients, as though she could somehow protect them by being there. Riley insisted she take her break, so she went down to the cafeteria, cautiously eyeing everyone she saw on the way.

  One feverish patient doesn't mean an epidemic, she told herself. The flu was spread by coughs, sneezes, and contaminated surfaces. Children were especially vulnerable if they didn't have good habits like regular hand washing and not putting things in their mouths. She was probably being a little paranoid, but Candace could easily imagine the consequences if one sick person was allowed to spread the virus.

  The cafeteria line was short, and she quickly chose a sandwich wrapped in plastic without paying attention to the filling. What if someone on the kitchen staff is infected? she thought as she added a can of soda to her tray.

  Of course, everyone who worked at the hospital had been inoculated. She was worrying way too much. Ever since she’d lost her husband so suddenly nearly five years ago, she’d been overly sensitive about the closeness of death. Dean had only been thirty-six when a brain aneurysm ended his life.

  Fortunately mothers rarely died in childbirth in the twenty-first century, and the Birthing Unit was usually a happy place where the staff welcomed new life into the world. She didn't know whether she could continue nursing if she had to take care of terminal patients, although she greatly admired those who did.

  After she paid for her skimpy lunch, she was tempted to save it for later and return to the unit, but she caught sight of one of her favorite people waving at her to join him.

  Heath Carlson was a radiologist, specializing in MRI technology. The same age as Candace, he’d suffered a tragedy when his fiancée had been killed by a drunk driver many years ago. He understood, perhaps better than anyone she knew, how devastating it was to lose a loved one. They’d become close friends because of this bond. Soon she realized how much she enjoyed his company, and after several months of dating, they had fallen in love.

  He smiled, showing deep dimples in both cheeks, when she sat down across from him. His curly golden-blond hair was cut short, and he had vivid blue eyes and an easy smile. Candace admired how fit and trim he kept himself. He inspired her to exercise regularly, and fortunately she enjoyed healthy activities.

  “I’m surprised to see you here on a Saturday,” she said as her cheeks filled with warmth.

  “I’m covering for a tech who wanted time off because his mother in Omaha is sick.” He held on to her hand on the table. “So far things have been pretty quiet. How are things in the baby department?”

  “We haven't had a new admission since yesterday morning,” she said, wondering whether to say anything about the flu patient.

  Before she could make up her mind, he began to speak.

  “I’m thinking of taking time off to go to Nebraska.”

  “Oh? Why Nebraska?”

  “There's a place off interstate 80 near Kearney where sandhill cranes go to feed in early spring on their migration north,” he said, lighting up at one of his favorite subjects. “Hundreds of thousands stop there by the Platte River because it's shallow. They feed for days on remains in the cornfields before they continue on to Canada. Some even go as far as Siberia.”

  “That sounds incredible,” she said, genuinely interested.

  Since she’d gotten to know Heath, she’d become fascinated by birds, even going with him to watch them in the woods outside of town. Brooke hadn't shown much interest in the feathered creatures, but Howie was a convert, bringing home bird books from his elementary school library and putting out sunflower seeds to attract them to the bird feeder in their backyard.

  “The way to see them is to reserve a place in a blind and watch at night as they return to the river. They sleep in shallow water because if a predator tries to attack them, they splash to sound a warning. It's pretty dramatic when the flocks fly. I’ve never seen it, so I’m hoping to get there around the twenty-third or twenty-fourth of this month. That's the soonest I can get away, but I’ll still get to see some cranes according to the latest updates on the Internet. It's a really big deal for bird lovers.”

  “It sounds exciting.”

  “You could go with me.”

  “I’d love to, but I have to be here for Brooke's birthday party.”

  “We could take the kids with us,” he suggested.

  “Brooke? I don't think so.”

  They both laughed at the thought of Brooke huddled in a bird blind watching cranes. “Howie seems to like birds,” he said.

  “Yes, but I’m afraid his attention span is too short for bird-watching. Anyway, I can't ask my mother to stay home alone with Brooke and be in charge of the birthday celebration. My daughter is acting like a teen already, even though she won't be thirteen until the twenty-third. In fact, the plans for her birthday party are giving me fits. If I canceled it to go bird-watching, she’d never forgive me.”

  “That's a shame. Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll photograph everything I see, and we’ll have a bird night with the kids after I get home. That's if I decide to go. It won't be as much fun if you can't go.”

  She smiled and remembered the sandwich on her tray. It turned out to be ham salad, a cafeteria special that was really ground-up bologna with pickles and mayonnaise. She took a bite. Heath had restored her appetite.

  “There is one thing I would like to share with you,” she said after they finished lunch and were walking out of the cafeteria together. “We had a woman come to the Birthing Unit with flu symptoms. The lab will have to determine whether it's the kind we’ve been warned about.”

  “That is bad,” he said. “I’ll keep quiet about it and hope it's a false alarm.”

  “Please do. I wouldn't want to start a panic. We haven't even had our first preparedness drill.” They parted at the elevator. Grateful as she was that she’d shared her break with Heath, she couldn't shake the nagging worry that the epidemic might have started.

  Candace went right home after work. She had a few errands that needed doing, but it was more important to see what her kids were up to. At sixty-one, her mother Janet Fuller had more energy than most younger women, but Candace didn't like to take advantage of her.

  She stepped inside the door and found Brooke waiting for her.

  “Mother, I thought you’d never get here.”

  Mother instead of Mommy was never a good sign.

  “I usually get home at this time,” she responded mildly. “What's up?”

  “We have to talk about my birthday party.”

  “Just let me take my coat off and tell Grammy I’m home.”

  “I’ve been wait
ing hours for you to get here,” her daughter said, virtually dancing around her as she hung her coat in the closet.

  “Well, I’m home now. Is this a private conversation? We could go upstairs to my bedroom.”

  “I don't care whether Howie hears, and Grammy already knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  “What I’d like to do for my birthday party.” Brooke made no move to the stairs leading to the upper level and their bedrooms, instead planting herself in front of her mother in a challenging position.

  “The plans are all made,” Candace said, at a loss to see where this conversation was going. “We’ve reserved the social room at the Y for Saturday night. They close to the public at eight, so we’ll play some games and have pizza and cake first. Then your girlfriends are welcome to use any of the facilities there.”

  “Mother, that's like gym class! I want a real party.”

  “What do you consider a real party? Tell me what you have in mind.”

  “I want to invite boys to my party.”

  Candace shook her head, but Brooke didn't give her a chance to protest.

  “We can have music and dancing. That's what friends my age want. Tiffany is going to invite boys when she has her birthday in May.”

  “Brooke, you’ll only be thirteen. I really think you’re a little young to have a party with boys. I’m sure you can have a lot of fun with your girlfriends.”

  “Some fun!” Sarcasm was a new thing for Brooke. Candace did not like it. “Eat cake, shoot baskets in the gym, and go home. My friends won't even want to come.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating, sweetie.” The endearment didn't match her daughter's attitude, but perhaps it would remind Brooke what a sweetie she was at heart and turn her attitude around. “Remember, you especially wanted to have it at the Y because you had so much fun when Carla had a party there?” Candace prompted, trying to deal calmly with her daughter's anger.

  “Just because we have it there doesn't mean I want the same kind of party. Carla was only twelve then. Next you’ll want us to wear silly paper hats and play baby games,” Brooke said. “I don't know why you can't just think about it instead of saying no right away. I don't know what's so wrong about inviting boys.”

 

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