Glancing over at me, she realizes I’m awake. She closes her laptop and takes off her glasses. “How are you feeling?” she asks me.
“Better.” Clearer speech shocks me. The doctor had said as my blood pressure comes down my speech would improve, but I wasn’t expecting this much so quickly. It still sounds like I have a mouth full of food but it resembles English, which is more than it did twelve hours ago.
“Does your head still hurt?”
“Yeah, but the pressure isn’t as bad. How long have I been asleep?” My tongue feels thick as I try to enunciate the words.
“I’m not sure. You fell asleep after the MRI sometime, so a few hours I guess. My dad always told me sleep was the best medicine for the body. It’s nature’s way of healing.”
“Have you seen a doctor? Any results yet?”
When she nods her head but doesn’t respond, I know whatever she found out isn’t great news. It’s amazing to watch her mind work; I can see the activity in her eyes. She’s trying to organize her thoughts to deliver them eloquently. I’ve seen her do it a thousand times, just never with me. We’ve always just said what’s on our mind.
“Spit it out, Pipes.” I sound drunk slurring my words, but at least she can understand me. Hopefully, with a decent night sleep, the majority of this will go away.
Her chest rises as she inhales deeply through her nose, ratcheting my anxiety up three notches. “Do you want the long and drawn out or the condensed version?”
“Let’s start with the short and sweet of it.” Mentally, I’m preparing myself for whatever she’s about to lay on me, but my defenses are weak.
“Well, your mom called shortly after I left with some news, so when I got back, I found the doctor to get all of the information I could.” Looking down at her lap, she picks at some fuzz on her legging. Her eyes meet mine, strong as steel. “Your parents are against me telling you any of this, but that’s not how we are.”
I wait impatiently for her to share whatever it is she knows.
“Moby, you have a brain aneurysm. It caused the stroke.”
“Am I going to die?”
Her eyes never leave mine. “We all are some day.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I don’t know, Moby. I’ve been reading about them while I was sitting here. It seems if they don’t kill you instantly then you’re pretty safe, but after talking to the doctor, I’m not as worried about that as I am the strokes.”
“Strokes? As in plural?”
“Three. This one and two other mini strokes somewhere in the last five to ten years they’re guessing. Dr. Sandhar, who by the way is a neurologist, said there’s evidence of two others. They leave something like a scar on your brain. I don’t know. Anyway, she said high blood pressure ages your organs and brain. They double checked the MRI to make sure it was yours because she thought she was looking at the scans of a fifty to a sixty-year-old man with sickle cell.”
“I don’t understand.” My mind begins to swim with the information she unloads on me.
“Untreated blood pressure problems age the brain at an accelerated rate. She’s guessing you’ve had blood pressure issues for about a decade, maybe two. When was the last time you went to a doctor?”
“I dunno. I was probably in high school I guess.”
The shock on her face tells me that isn’t the answer she was expecting.
“I never get sick, Piper. Why would I go to the doctor?”
“How about for an annual physical?”
“Does arguing about this help us right now? I haven’t been. I can’t change the past.”
“Moby, your kidneys are damaged.” She still hasn’t let go of my eyes and doesn’t with this news, either. She doesn’t cry, although I can tell by how puffy her eyes are, she has at some point in time today…extensively. When I don’t respond, she keeps going. “Do you know what creatinine is?”
“Yeah, it’s a protein people use to build muscle mass.”
“No, not creatine, creatinine. It’s a measure of your kidney function. Your blood work came back. Normal creatinine levels are between point seven and point nine. Yours is two point six.”
“Piper, I need you to speak English. I don’t have a medical degree.”
“If the doctors can’t get your blood pressure under control and keep it that way, Dr. Sandhar is estimating you will reach a five point oh in less than five years. If you hit a five you, will have to go on dialysis and look for a donor.”
I stare at her, utterly overwhelmed with the information she just laid out for me. My eyes blink slowly trying to take in the information dump. I don’t understand how I could’ve been in the gym yesterday and a hospital bed today much less having the potential need for an organ.
“Do my parents know?” My mom must be flipping out.
She shakes her head solemnly. The sadness written all over her face shakes my entire foundation. The course of our entire lives changed in the blink of an eye.
“Does anyone else know?”
Again, no.
“Is there anything else you need to tell me?” God, I fucking hope not. It seems like every time I get any update on my condition it’s only gotten worse.
Her eyes brim with tears; she fights against them as her bottom lip quivers. The way her chin dimples as she struggles to hold on breaks me. I can’t go to her, and she isn’t close enough for me to pull her to me.
Unable to comfort her I ask for the truth. “Tell me.” I need to know everything. I don’t want secrets. I don’t want to be blindsided down the road. This shit sucks, but once I know what we’re dealing with we can formulate a plan.
“The neurologist and nephrologist want to do another MRI tomorrow to confirm, but they want our consent to send you to Charleston to the Medical University to do a brain stent.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s not approved by the FDA yet, Moby. It’s experimental.” Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t know what I could have possibly anticipated, but it wasn’t something going into my brain. I should probably be terrified, but I’m dumbfounded more than anything.
We sit in the dim light of the hospital room, the machines casting a strange glow around the room as dusk gives way to darkness. My thoughts roam, random memories assault me, some good, others not. My mind settles on my wedding day, the joy on Piper’s face, the ways she looked in her dress and how proud she was of her shoes. Looking at her now, the joy isn’t there and I wonder what all my presence in her world has changed. This has done irreparable damage. It breaks my heart to think I could be anything other than good for her but clearly, this will destroy her life.
“I’m so sorry, Piper.” I don’t try to hold back the tears as they move freely down my cheeks. I want her to see and feel the sincerity in my words.
“Oh, no, baby. Don’t cry. Why are you sorry?” She comes to sit on the side of the bed next to me, taking my hand.
“If I had insisted on giving you a proper engagement, a real wedding, we wouldn’t be married right now. We would still be planning. You’d have the option of backing out, not being stuck in this. I never wanted to ruin your life.” It’s the truth. I’m not looking for pity or sympathy. I want her happy. I want her to have the fullest life possible. I’m robbing her of that freedom.
“What are you talking about?” Her snippy tone tells me she’s pissed.
“I don’t want this for you. I don’t want you taking care of a cripple in your thirties. Your seventies maybe, but not your thirties!” She starts laughing although it’s not funny. Uncontrollably laughing, doubled over, gasping for breath. “Why are you laughing at me?” My voice booms in the otherwise quiet room. The acoustics not meant for loud voices.
She sobers slightly, still smiling, trails of tears from her laughter soaking her cheeks. “Moby.” She exhales loudly. “We said for better or worse. I meant that. Don’t give up because it’s dark. My heart searched for years to find yours. It still seeks yours. The direction my
life takes is because we guide each other. That’s just part of it. We’ll get through this. I don’t know what we’re even looking at here, and neither do you. But regardless of the outcome, or where the journey takes us if we walk or run, as long as we do it together, that’s our journey.”
“I promise you, Piper. I’ll do whatever it takes to beat this. I’ll make my recovery my full-time job. You’ll be proud of me again.”
“I’m always proud of you, Moby.”
The bell sounds signaling visiting hours are over. I try to push back but Asten, the little hussy, holds firm refusing to allow me to stay with Moby overnight. “You can stay in the waiting room if you’d like but the hospital adheres to strict hours in ICU.”
“I’m his wife, are you serious?” I’m miffed, which I’m sure my tone conveys.
“Very. Goodnight, Mrs. Cooper.”
My eyes flutter in irritation. I swear if I have to see this little heifer much more, they may stick in the tops of their sockets.
“Fine,” I huff at her. “Can you give me a minute, Asten?” I draw out her name indicating how pretentious I think it is.
“I’ll be back.” She turns to leave and again, my eyes search the ceiling. Irritation doesn’t begin to describe what her presence does to me.
“Okay, I guess I need to go. I’m going to stop by the gym in the morning to tell them what’s going on and see if they can reschedule your clients. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done with that. Do you need anything from home?”
“Did you bring my toothbrush?”
“Yes. Your glasses, iPad, and phone are in the bag next to your bed. I brought your laptop, too. I didn’t know if you’d want entertainment. I brought some clean boxers if they let you wear them. Deodorant and toothpaste are in the side pocket. I figured you wouldn’t be able to shave so I didn’t bring a razor.”
“I love you.”
I beam at him. I love hearing those words from his mouth even if they still aren’t coming out perfectly. It never gets old. Each time he says it, it feels like the first.
“Love you, too.” I lean in to kiss his forehead, but he captures my neck with his right hand, pulling me to him. His lips press firmly against mine before he opens just slightly, his tongue invading my mouth. The passion in this kiss no less than the passion I’ve felt a thousand times before. Pulling away before I climb on him to fuck him in an ICU bed, I catch a glimpse of him as he grabs his crotch.
“Thank fuck he still works.” He drops his head back on the pillow still holding his dick in his hand. When he lifts his head, I see the heat I normally see in my husband’s eyes. It’s hard to pull away when all I want is for him to consume me, but this isn’t the time or the place. Asten would probably throw a full-blown hissy fit if she walked in on me riding Moby. It’s tempting, but I’m just not that brazen.
“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“Night, baby.”
I wave to him as I walk out, and sure enough, Asten is standing just outside the door. I should’ve gone for it, even if just for shock value. She looks at me like she doesn’t understand how I landed a guy like Moby. I’ve seen it before. Our friends didn’t believe it, but somehow their looks were never threatening and never made me feel inferior, probably because they thought Moby was the one who out-punted his coverage, but this girl clearly thinks Moby’s too good for me.
I’m the first to admit Moby is beautiful, and I’m rather plain, at least on the outside. I grew up in the mountains; people just didn’t care about fashion or looking like runway models. They were too busy skiing, snowmobiling, mountain climbing, rock climbing, or any other outdoor activity that having your hair and makeup done for was simply ridiculous. I didn’t grow up in an environment where anyone put any stock in appearance. I’m not ugly; I’m just not a Southern Belle dressed for the ball every time I leave my house. I realize I’m giving her the same once-over she gave me and reel my attitude back in. I’m not in competition with a twenty-something-year-old girl. He put a rock on my finger, and I’m confident he wants to keep it there.
“Goodnight, Asten.”
“’Night. I’ll take good care of him.”
Bitch.
No. No. No. No. I wake feeling way too refreshed. Looking at my clock, I realize just how right I am. It’s almost eight in the morning. I should be walking out the door to go to the gym and make it to the hospital by the time visiting hours start at nine. God, I’ll never make it, and he’ll be there alone.
Thank God I called Cam last night. They left the hospital after being there several hours but before I had a chance to have any type of discussion with her about work. Luckily, I can do my job from anywhere in the world as long as I have my computer. I love being at Healing Wings but I don’t have to work in the building. She was very understanding, assuring me I didn’t have to call in daily, but to keep her posted about Moby’s progress. It’s weird working with a friend, not knowing how far to take the professional lines, so I always err on the side of caution. I swear she must have yawned a hundred times in the five minutes I was on the phone with her. When I finally asked her what was up with the yawning, she admitted she was tired. I didn’t have the energy to put much thought into it then but standing in the shower, now it seems odd.
Flying out the door in record time, my hair hanging in half dried waves down my back, I get to the gym around eight forty-five. Curtis sees me the moment I pull the door open.
“Hey, Piper!” he calls from across the room as he sets the weights he was working with down. Grabbing a towel, he approaches me, wiping the sweat from his face. He’s a good-looking man, but more importantly, has a heart of gold. “How’s Moby?”
“Well, that’s why I’m here. The doctors haven’t given us a timeline, but they’re sure he’s not going to be back to work for a while.”
“Wow. What happened?”
“He had a stroke. He’s lost all function on his left side.” I voice the words cautiously. It’s as if by speaking the thoughts it brings them to life. The reality of the situation becomes more real with each person who knows.
“Seriously? How the hell did that happen? He’s so young!”
I shrug my shoulders. I’ve asked myself the same question a hundred times in the last twenty-four hours with no answer. “Can you reschedule his clients this week or maybe pick them up?”
“Absolutely. I’ll take what I can and get some of the others to help out, too. Tell him not to worry, we’ll get his regulars covered.”
My phone rings in my pocket. “I’m sorry, Curtis, hang on. It’s Moby’s mom.” I turn just slightly, so I’m not talking directly to his face. “Hi, Patty, what’s up?”
“Piper, where are you?”
“I’m at the gym to see if Curtis can help take on some of Moby’s clients.”
“You need to get here. They’re transferring Moby to MUSC, and they’re leaving in fifteen minutes by ambulance.”
“What? Why?” My face turns bright red. This is not a decision Moby would have made on his own. I’d bet money his parents had something to do with it.
“He needs to have the stent done, Piper. He can’t have that here.”
“That decision hasn’t been made.”
“Actually, honey, it has. If you want to go with him, you need to be here in the next ten minutes.”
“I can’t get there that fast, Patty. It’s a twenty-minute drive from here.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. They’re transporting him by ambulance, and they’re getting him ready now.”
“Ugh. I’ll get there as quickly as I can. I need to go.” I disconnect without waiting for a response.
Turning back to Curtis, I say, “I’m sorry I have to rush out.” I scribble my number on a piece of paper on the desk and hand it to him. “Please call me and let me know if I need to do anything to help you out with rescheduling. I’m so sorry. I hadn’t intended to rush in and out of here.”
“No worries, Piper. Do what you need to do to
take care of Moby. Keep me updated.”
“I will. Thanks again!”
Ripping the door open to my car, I plop down in the seat to Google the phone number for the hospital.
“Moby Cooper’s room, please.”
“One moment please.” The sound of fingers on a keyboard fills the silence. “I’m sorry ma’am, there are no phones in the ICU rooms.”
“Okay, how about the nurses’ station, it’s right outside his room.”
“We aren’t allowed to connect people to the ICU nursing station.”
The bitch in me erupts. “Look, I appreciate you’re doing your job, and I hope you can appreciate I’m simply doing mine. My husband is on that floor, and his mother just called me to tell me they’re moving him to MUSC in roughly twelve minutes, and I’m not there. Now, you can either connect me to a nurse on that floor or when I get there and my husband has left, I will personally come find you and show you just how unhappy I really am.”
“Let me put you on hold and see what I can do.” She remains calm, but I can hear the unsettled tone in her voice.
“Thank you.”
As I wait, I start driving, listening to the horrid music they’ve chosen to occupy the silence for the caller. “Ma’am, I have Dr. Sandhar on the line, I will connect you.” After a couple clicks, she goes silent, and the doctor is on the other end.
“Mrs. Cooper?” Her foreign accent is much heavier on the phone than in person.
“Yes! God, I’m so glad I got you on the phone. What’s going on? When I left last night, we were just considering the brain stent and now my mother-in-law tells me it’s imminent. Did something happen?”
“We did another MRI last night to see if the aneurysm was leaking blood into the brain tissue and the vessel has coiled.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It could rupture, Mrs. Cooper. We can’t help him here. He needs to be in a facility that has the equipment to deal with this. Regional is not that place. MUSC is the nearest hospital equipped to do so.”
Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) Page 8