Captain Fin

by Amanda M. Thrasher

  “It’s to help with the low oxygen levels that she had when she came in.” Standing up, Kathy wrapped her arm around Hannah.

  “It’s a precaution. It takes the burden off her lungs and allows her to breathe easier, since she was struggling with shortness of breath.”

  Hannah didn’t question her aunt; not knowing for sure what was going on was more comforting than having all the facts. Watching her mom struggle to breathe was a lightbulb moment for the teen. On the one hand, she wanted to reach for her JUUL to settle her nerves, and on the other, she could see her mom struggling to breathe and never wanted to touch the tiny device again. What was happening in that room didn’t have anything to do with vaping and yet the visual that she had of her mom struggling to breathe suddenly clicked with her mom’s words and what she’d been preaching for years. It was staring Hannah in the face. Watching someone, someone you love, fighting to breathe, regardless of the reason, was shocking. Struggling for air. Even gasping at times, Gloria’s chest heaved up and down, even with the extra oxygen. Kathy was wrong. It wasn’t a precaution. Sick to her stomach, frozen in fear, silently Hannah vowed right then and there that the next time her mom called her out, she’d look her in the eye and truthfully be able to say that she, Hannah Gunner, one hundred percent wasn’t smoking! White as a sheet, Hannah stood by her mom’s bed and held onto Gloria’s hand. Gloria dozed in and out of consciousness. Another doctor with a nurse by his side examined her. Making notes and writing orders, he started her on a strong round of antibiotics for fluid in her lungs, better known as pneumonia.

  “Likely from within the community or passed on through her line of work, she’s in health care, and it is pneumonia,” he remarked. “Usually she would have been fine, but her immunity was already damaged, and that made her susceptible to the illness. Being stage three at diagnosis and now moving into stage four,” the doctor hesitated. “Well, it isn’t good.”

  He continued to examine Gloria, making notes and giving directions for her care.

  “We’re going to keep her here and stabilize her, get her through this. I really want to see how these kidneys are going to hold up, and for that reason we’ll bring in our nephrologist for a consult.” He paused. “Any questions?”

  Any questions? Hannah had barely understood a word. Stunned at hearing the words stage four for the first time. How did her mom go from resting at home to being admitted to the hospital and organs starting to shut down? What in the hell had just happened? Kathy looked as shocked as Hannah; white, pale as a ghost, she stood at her sister’s side by her hospital bed. Hannah, panicked, pulled out her phone and reached out to Cash.

  Hannah: So sick right now! Fill you in soon. Luv ya

  Cash: Do you need anything? And luv ya, too.

  She never responded.

  “Honey, do you want to talk about it?” Kathy asked. “Hannah. Hannah!”

  As if in a trance, Hannah jumped when she heard her name.

  “You were a million miles away. It’s a lot to take in. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Stage four?” Hannah croaked. “That’s not good.”

  Kathy’s eyes darted toward Gloria, and she raised a finger to her lips. Hannah nodded, understanding that she didn’t want to upset her mom. Stage four. Shocking. How? When? Too many questions, no answers, and surely not enough time!

  Hannah sat down on the crisp white sheets of her mom’s bed. The crinkling sound that they made forced her to look down and feel them with her hand. They were softer than she thought they would be given the crunching noise they’d made. Her mind was focusing on the most mundane things: the color of the walls, the steel sink in the corner, the disinfectant containers on the walls, rubber glove holders, and how many nurses came in before the doctor transferred her mom to another room on a different floor. Gathering her mom’s things, she followed the gurney and equipment down the corridors. They stopped in front of two large steel doors, and Hannah didn’t realize until the doors opened that it was a massive elevator. Rolling her mom’s gurney inside, they made a space in the corner for Kathy and Hannah.

  “There’s room, y’all, come on in,” a young nurse assured them as politely as she could, given the circumstances.

  Gloria had never looked so frail in her life. She was pale, and all of sudden seemed way too slim. Little. Skinny. Hannah hadn’t realized that before; her heart started to pound, and she couldn’t think clearly. The elevator doors closed and her mind drifted back to a simpler time. Her mom was sitting at the kitchen table, the Captain was chasing her down the hall, and they were laughing hysterically. They ran into her bedroom for a bedtime adventure. Gloria’s voice bounced off the walls after them. It was so clear. She was telling them to keep it short, and the Captain was making faces from the other side of the wall that made Hannah laugh. The sound of dishes clanging against each other told them Mom was cleaning up after supper. A second warning was about to come; that’s how it worked. It was clear the Captain had always been there, and her mom was a part of that life they all loved. Go back to that time! Right now—why couldn’t they just go back!

  “Ahoy! All hands on deck, Matey,” the Captain had boomed.

  “Not too late, Hank, now you hear! She has school in the morning.”

  “Does kindergarten count?”

  “Hank!” Gloria had snapped. “School is school, and we agreed, start her off right.”

  “You mean Captain, Momma.”

  “That’s right, Matey.”

  The elevator moved slowly, and Hannah could see herself in her mind’s eye, giggling. “And you mean First Matey, ’cause you done did promote me, remember?”

  Hannah’s heart jumped into her throat, realizing for the first time, in a long time, that her dad was the Captain and had been there, with them, in that house where she was a little girl, the one that Gloria had loved before he’d died. He had been real, and not just part of her imagination, which she was starting to believe and had purposely convinced herself of at times because it was easier than letting the memory of the Captain go. Thinking about the three of them while she rode in the elevator both pleased and momentarily stunned Hannah. She knew her dad had died. She knew she played with the Captain in her dreams, and she knew she had forced herself to forget that they were one and the same. But why on earth was she remembering all of that now? Panic set in as she realized one thing. Loss. She was fearful she was going to be confronted with losing her mom as well as her dad.

  Trying to focus on her mom, she pushed out of her mind the images of Gloria packing up boxes containing her dad’s things after she’d received the terrible news of his death. It was neither the time nor the place for those memories, but her mom’s words flooded back to her mind. There had been a fight; he had died. Stop. Stop thinking about that now, she instructed herself. Kathy placed an arm around her shoulder, and thankfully Hannah was brought back to reality as the cold steel elevator doors opened up in front of her. For the first time in her life, as they wheeled her mom out of the elevator on the hospital bed, Hannah wished she hadn’t always insisted that her dad act out her bedtime stories and put her to bed. For just once, she wished she had reached out and asked her mom to read her a story, any story, instead!

  Chapter 22

  My Closet

  “Forgive me; I’m begging you.”

  ~ Gloria Gunner ~

  Sleeping peacefully, Gloria had no recollection of being moved to another room. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she mumbled and talked as she tossed and turned. Hannah sat on the edge of her bed, listening to words that she couldn’t quite make out as she watched over her like a protective daughter should. Kathy sat with them for a while, noticing that Hannah suddenly looked so grown up, before stepping outside for some fresh air. The air was chilly, cooling down as the night moved in and robbed the day of the sun. Fighting the urge to scream at the top of her lungs, anger consumed her. Deep breaths, one after the other, Kathy tried to calm herself as she held back the tears that threatened
to roll down her cheeks. Wrapping her arms around herself as tightly as she could, she paced back and forth, trying to forget momentarily how critical the situation was as she attempted to stay warm. Flashes of memories, laughter, and tears, pain, and struggles, she seemed to remember everything about her sister all at once. Using her sleeve to wipe away the tears that she could no longer contain, Kathy slid down a cold retainer wall outside the hospital doors and sobbed. Minutes passed—which seemed like an eternity—before Kathy managed to pull herself together and walk back through the sliding glass doors, to the elevator and back into her sister’s room. Nurses, with pleasant dispositions, waltzed in and out of Gloria’s room, making light and polite small talk with Hannah as they went about their duties. Hannah’s fingers ran over her phone as she scrolled through her texts. Cash’s words of comfort made her smile, and knowing she could count on him brought her a sense of internal peace that she hadn’t experienced before. Offering to come and sit with her, she declined, but his offer meant as much as his presence. As much as Hannah loved him, she didn’t feel secure enough to hide her fear of the seriousness of her mother’s condition. And the relationship, to her, felt new enough that she should do that; Cash would have been disappointed had he known that she felt that way and that alone crushed her. Lindsey’s texts were frantic, worried about her friend and her second mom. Hannah replied with as many details as she could, though, honestly, she didn’t understand the entire situation herself.

  Lindsey: Do you want me to bring you anything?

  Hannah: No, but thanks.

  Lindsey: If you change your mind, just text.

  Hannah: K.

  Hannah slipped the phone back into her pocket.

  “How’s she doing?” the doctor asked.

  As if Hannah had a clue. She forced a smile. “She hasn’t really been awake yet; been restless, but she hasn’t really woken up properly since she’s had all of the pain meds.”

  Dressed in the usual scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, the doctor nodded and went about his business. Hannah couldn’t help but wonder if he really cared that the person lying in front of him was so special to her. That person, her person, was her whole world! Did he know that? So matter of fact, nonchalant, and suddenly it dawned on her. To him, this doctor, maybe not every doctor, but most doctors, this was merely another day.

  “That’s to be expected with the meds we gave her. Plus we gave her something extra for her pain.” He pointed to his scribe and added a note on his chart. “The side effect of the two meds combined, it’s normal, the drowsiness, but let’s monitor that and adjust accordingly if necessary.”

  Hannah hung her head. “I didn’t really know she was in pain. I mean, that much pain.”

  Looking up again, she asked him a question he heard often. “Has she been in pain for long?”

  “Well, I’m not her regular doctor, so it’s hard to say. But if I had to guess, I would say some days are likely better than others. In other words, yes. She’s had some rough days being she’s this far along, the CML, according to her doctor’s notes, that is.”

  Alarmed, Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “This far along—how long has she been sick?”

  The doctor didn’t answer at first; he kept checking out her mom. Kathy snuck back into the room and stood at Hannah’s side. Without saying a word, she slipped her icy-cold hand into Hannah’s and squeezed it tightly as the doctor continued.

  “The complications that your mother is experiencing right now are due to the secondary infections because of her damaged immune system; that’s what I’m treating.” He checked the monitor. “This, of course, originally all leads back and starts with the CML. I’m not her oncologist, but I think it’s safe to say one never knows how these types of infections originally develop during the treatments that we provide. It’s hard to say because each individual patient responds differently to treatment. Her oncologist will treat the CML, and right now I’m going to treat what brought her to the E.R. in the first place.”

  He went into full doctor mode as he examined Gloria and went over her monitors. The scribe, at his side, tapped away on her laptop while the nurse in the room administered additional fluids through Gloria’s IV. Directing his attention back to Hannah and Kathy, the doctor explained what he was doing and why, and asked if they had any questions or concerns. Questions or concerns; yes, many of them, Hannah thought, but had no idea where to start.

  “Her doctor will check on her in the morning and decide what his next course of treatment will be for the CML, but right now, we’ve got to get her through this pneumonia.”

  He signed a med order, and the nurse and scribe left the room.

  Five minutes ago, Hannah had a million questions. When asked, she couldn’t think of a single one.

  “I should get you home, Hannah. You need something to eat, a shower, and some rest.”

  “I don’t want to leave her, and you need to rest as well.”

  Kathy looked around the room. Gloria had a bathroom, and it had a shower. The room also had a large recliner and small couch that could pull out into a makeshift bed.

  “I’ll run to the house and apartment and grab a change of clothes for you and me, plus something to read, toothbrush, and few toiletries. Can you think of anything else that you need?”

  Hannah shook her head. She didn’t need a thing except for her mom to get well. Kissing Hannah on the top of her head as she gathered her things, Kathy left the hospital.

  Perched in the corner, sitting crisscrossed in the chair, Hannah played CandyCrush on her phone and chatted with Cash via text. It helped pass the time, until her phone was nearly dead, and it was only then that she wished she’d asked her aunt to bring back her charger. Her mom had looked peaceful as she slept, but was finally starting to stir. Carefully, hoping not to disturb her, Hannah sat on the edge of the bed. Gloria managed to reach out and put her hand on top of Hannah’s.

  “Hannah.”

  “I’m right here, Mom.”

  Gloria looked pale and appeared weak, but that didn’t stop her from becoming agitated and anxious. Hannah assumed she must be concerned about being admitted to the hospital and tried to ease her fears.

  “Everything’s fine, Mom. They’ve admitted you because you have pneumonia, but they’ve already given you antibiotics and something to help you rest.”

  Hannah leaned down on the bed and kissed her mom’s hand.

  “You’re already getting better, and don’t worry, we’re not leaving you. We’re staying right here, me and Kathy, no arguments!”

  Gloria tried to pull Hannah closer toward her, but her shaking hands had no strength in them. Noticing, Hannah whispered words of reassurance.

  “I’m right here, Mom; I’m not going anywhere.”

  Gloria’s mouth was moving, but her words were barely audible. Hannah pleaded with her to rest, assuring her that they would talk later, but Gloria wouldn’t have it. She had something urgent she wanted to say, and she needed Hannah to listen to her. Struggling to spit out the words was frustrating her.

  “I’m listening. Go slow. It’s the meds that are making you slur,” Hannah said softly. Worried, she offered to call for help. “Shall I call the nurse?”

  Gloria shook her head and became even more irritated.

  Hannah, terrified that something was desperately wrong, begged her mom to calm down.

  “There’s something you need to know.”

  Hannah squeezed her mom’s hand. “It’s okay! I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Tears filled Gloria’s eyes, before a single one spilled over and left a single glistening trail on her cheek as it rolled down her face. Hannah began to panic.

  “I’m getting the nurse.”

  “Stop, Hannah, please stop.” She reached for Hannah’s hand. “It’s Hank.”

  “What?” Hannah didn’t understand her and couldn’t make out what she was trying to say.

  “Haaaank,” Gloria repeated, dragging out the name.
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  Hannah stroked her mom’s hair and kissed the top of her head. It pained her to see her mom in such a state. She missed the idea of her dad at times, but though she’d never admit it, the loss of the Captain hurt more. She never thought about her mom missing her husband; evidently he was on her mom’s mind. Not knowing what to say, Hannah didn’t say anything. Her eyes flashed around the room to see if by chance her aunt Kathy was back or a nurse was in the hallway and could help calm her mom down. No one was around.

  “Your box,” Gloria whispered. “Get the box.”

  “What?” Asked Hannah. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not sure what you said. What did you say?”

  “The box.”

  Eyes closed, she pointed to the door as if shooing Hannah out of the hospital room to send her on her way. Where was she supposed to go? This seemed more like a game than her mom telling her something about Hank, her dad, and then Hannah realized her mom must be stuck in a loop; Hannah was still a little girl and Hank, her husband, was missed. Hannah had been guilty of the same type of memories on the elevator. The box undoubtedly was likely filled with photos. She’d seen her mom pack them tons of times over the years with each and every move; maybe they held her wedding photos or something sentimental to her that she needed.

  “Box, Mom? What box? A photo box?” Hannah leaned closer to her mom. “Do you need me to find you a special box?”

  Gloria tried to lift herself out of bed and pull herself up into a sitting position, but Hannah placed both hands on top of her shoulders and gently laid her back down.

  “No need to get up. Just tell me where it is, and I’ll find it for you.”

  “Get the box!” Gloria snapped and then apologized. “Sorry.”

  “Yep. I’m going to get the box.” Hannah covered her mom back up. “Just tell me where it is; no problem.”

  “Get the box, Hannah. The box!”