Left Hanging

by Cindy Dorminy

  “Code Red, Code Red, Pediatric ICU, Third Floor. Code Red, Code Red. Pediatric ICU, Third Floor.”

  Theo and I stop what we’re doing and stare at each other.

  “Oh God, no.” He jumps up, knocking the game board off and sending the pieces flying everywhere. He runs to the ICU entrance with me not far behind. In fact, every person in the ICU rushes that way with a crash cart.

  “Coming through, please move,” the code team barks at us as four physicians rush past us into the ICU.

  Theo runs after them, holding my hand, not caring about the rules or the ward clerk yelling at us to leave. We frantically scan around to see which room the code team enters. Oh, God, please not Stella’s. It may be selfish to pray that the emergency is for someone else’s kid and not my own. I should feel guilty, but I don’t.

  “No,” Theo says, his voice breaking. He rushes to Stella’s door right behind the doctors.

  Jill, Stella’s nurse, blocks his way.

  “I’ve got to get in there,” he says.

  “Sir, you can’t go in there right now.”

  “That’s my daughter!”

  “I’m sorry. Not now.” She pushes us backward, toward the ICU entrance.

  “What’s happening?” I scream at her.

  “Stay back,” she says. “You can’t go in there right now.”

  But I can see past her into the room. I can see the doctors surrounding Stella.

  “Everyone, clear,” one of the physicians orders to the others.

  Oh my God, her heart has stopped. My little girl’s heart has stopped. This can’t be happening.

  “Stand clear. Shock.”

  A loud, cringe-worthy thump comes from my baby’s body.

  Theo takes me by the shoulders and swings me around so I can’t see what’s happening. He covers my ears with his hands. There is so much noise and yelling that I don’t even notice my own screams.

  Theo buries my head in his chest, and the pressure of his hands over my ears increases. I know the doctors have shocked her a second time.

  He releases me and uncovers my ears. “They got a pulse,” he whispers to me. “Her heart’s beating again.”

  Jill grabs us and pushes us out of the ICU. “You have to leave now! As soon as I can, I will come get you.”

  We are thrown back into the waiting room. All the other families are dead quiet as we stand in the middle of the room. I rush away from everyone to a corner. I rock back and forth, tapping my forehead against the wall. My whole body trembles. We almost lost her. Our baby almost died. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Our baby needs lots of costumes and play jewelry around her neck and a princess crown on her head, not tubes and monitors, and especially not shock paddles. This is all wrong. She’s supposed to be splashing around in a swimming pool or riding a pony. This isn’t natural.

  Theo wraps his arms around me. “Come here,” he whispers.

  I lose it. It doesn’t matter if he hates me. I need him right now. I need someone to be strong for me because I can’t be strong anymore. My tears soak his shirt, and the noises I make are those only a mother can make.

  He strokes my hair as he cries too. “I know. Shh. She’s okay. They got her back. Try to breathe.”

  I push away from him. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale, exhale, hiccup. “I’m sorry.”

  “I thought we were done saying that word.”

  I rest my head on his chest again. “I’ll never stop trying to apologize to you.”

  He kisses me on the forehead.

  “Miss Battle, Dr. Edwards?” the ward clerk asks from the waiting room entrance. “You can come in now. Sorry about that, but they needed space to work.” The nurse ushers us into Stella’s room.

  Dr. Michaels is there, consulting with the code team. He waves us over and wipes his sweaty brow. He cracks a grin, the first I’ve seen from him in weeks. “We had a little scare, but this is one tough girl. We got her back.”

  I rush to Stella’s side and kiss her face a dozen times.

  Theo sighs. “What happened?”

  “Your little girl has turned a corner.”

  Thank you, God.

  “Her kidneys kicked into high gear all of a sudden. Urinary output skyrocketed. Her heart didn’t stop, but she became arrhythmic when her blood pressure dropped suddenly. Cardioversion was the only thing we could do quickly to keep her from arresting. We did a quick check, and her electrolytes were out of whack, so I’ve increased her fluids and potassium to replenish what she peed out.”

  He straightens Stella’s sheet before he feels her forehead with the palm of his hand. “I was going to wait until visiting hours to update you, but I might as well do it now.”

  I grab Theo’s hand. This cannot be good. Dr. Michaels’s “updates” send me down the rabbit hole of despair every single time. Theo squeezes my hand.

  “We’ve had two days without any spikes in temperature and no signs of necrosis. I’d like to take her back to surgery tonight to make sure there is no additional tissue damage. If not, I’ll close her incisions and start weaning her off the ventilator. How does that sound?”

  “So, she’s getting better?” Theo asks with hope in his voice.

  “No, but she’s not getting worse. I think we can get her up and moving around again and see what happens from there.”

  I could kiss Dr. Michaels right now. Stella has been stuck at one stage for so long, I didn’t think this was ever going to happen. If my life depended on it, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

  Theo grins at me. “That sounds great,” he says to the doctor. “Do you need me to—”

  “No, Theo. You’ve done enough. I think you two should get some sleep. Taking her back to surgery tonight means that you won’t get to see her during the evening visitation. But in the morning, she might be awake.”

  “And you think I’m going to be able to sleep now?” I ask.

  Dr. Michaels laughs. “Well, at least try. Now go on. Go to the cafeteria or something. Get out of that waiting room. I’m sure the walls feel like they’re closing in on you.”

  Theo grins down at me. “Come on, let them work. Suddenly, I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.”

  We give our unconscious—but one step closer to being well—daughter one more kiss for good measure before we leave… together.

  Chapter Forty

  Theo

  At this hour of the day, we almost have the whole cafeteria to ourselves. A few people mingle around before they go back to visit with family members, but it’s not jam-packed like it is during lunch times. In complete silence, Darla and I sit in a booth, eating. Even hospital food tastes delicious tonight. For the first time in forever, I’m able to actually breathe. Getting oxygen and glucose to my brain helps my mood. I believe our little girl is getting better. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  “Theo, do you think she’s going to make it?” Darla pleads with her eyes for me to give her some medical wisdom.

  I put down my fork and wipe my face with a napkin. “Honestly, I don’t know, but I feel like she is. I completely feel it. I can’t explain it. God has given me a peace about this whole situation.”

  She lets out a breath. “I feel it too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but maybe it’s divine intervention. I don’t know.” She scoops up another forkful of rice and stuffs it in her mouth. “This is usually nasty-tasting, but it’s good today.”

  I shovel food in as fast as I can. I’m so weak from lack of food, lack of sleep, and from giving blood that my fork won’t hold still as I lift it to my mouth. I could sleep for a week if my brain would shut off for a second.

  “What did you mean by being a quart low?” she asks.

  Crap. I was hoping she didn’t pick up on that. “That’s a phrase for
when you give blood, that’s all.” I dare not make eye contact, because she’s getting way too good at reading my mind.

  She puts her hand on mine before I can lift the fork again. Shit. She doesn’t buy it.

  “How many times?”

  “How many times, what?” I ask.

  She stares at me, and I cannot will my eyes away from her gaze.

  I clear my throat. “Three times,” I mumble.

  “Three times?” She sits back in the booth. “In a little over a week, you donated three times? Are you crazy?”

  “Shh. Yes, I’m crazy. Crazy in love with our little girl, and if you had her blood type, you would have done the same thing. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have.” I point my fork at her. A piece of my sesame chicken drops off my fork and onto her plate.

  She picks it up and eats it. “That’s where you were. I thought you couldn’t take the responsibility of being a parent, when all along…” She wipes tears from her eyes.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I had to bribe them to take my blood the last time, and they had to admit me because my sugar tanked. After that, Tommy had to donate blood to give to me. It was like a round-robin of donations. Crap, I guess I owe him one now.”

  Her mouth drops. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I reach over the table and slide a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because you had enough on your plate, and I was fine. You didn’t need two babies to worry about. And before you get mad at Tommy, I made him promise not to say anything.”

  “I know this is all new to you, but you’re already a very good daddy.”

  My fork clatters onto the table. That’s the highest compliment anyone could ever give me. And hearing it from Darla is like winning an award for best actor. “You think so?”

  “Yeah, you’re playing catch-up quite nicely.”

  I sit up straighter. “I’m good, ain’t I?”

  She rolls her eyes. “And modest too. Some things never change. I have to say, you make pretty babies.”

  I shrug. “We make pretty babies.”

  Silence surrounds us again. The elephant is still in the room, and I can feel the tension creep up my spine. By the way she bites on her lip, Darla must feel it too.

  “You probably had recently started medical school when I found out I was pregnant. Mallory sent me that card by email.”

  I lean back in the booth and focus on the ceiling. She has to let it out, and I love her, so I have to accept her reasoning, whether it makes sense to me or not.

  “She announced to everyone you were the love of her life. Finally, I had a real name. Do you know how many Romeos there are in this world?”

  I almost laugh.

  “So, one of the email recipients was THEgamemaker@outlook.com. It had to be you, so I sent an email to it. Nothing.”

  “I know.”

  Her eyes bug out of their sockets. “What?”

  I lean forward. “After you shooed me away earlier, my family converged on me for an intervention. I think it would have been more fun if I was a crack addict. Tommy told me what happened.”

  “I thought you didn’t want us. I thought you wanted Mallory.”

  My jaw drops. I slump in my chair and let out a deep groan.

  “After that, I didn’t know what to do. I felt so… lost.” Her eyes tell me everything I need to know. She didn’t hide Stella from me, and she didn’t do anything out of spite. She really didn’t know what to do. And most importantly, I know she tried.

  “And when you came back, I thought you already knew, so I didn’t say anything. When it was obvious you were clueless, you had been back a while. I tried to tell you, but I panicked because I was afraid of how you would take it. Then, everything kind of snowballed out of control.” She stares off and takes a deep breath. “I guess I lost that round, huh?”

  “You will be penalized one hundred points.”

  She leans back in her chair and breathes a sigh of relief. Her mouth tilts up in a small smile. “Wow. You’re serious. Shouldn’t Tommy and Mallory get penalized too?”

  “Oh, you leave Tommy to me.”

  “And Mallory? She knew I was into you at the party, and she deliberately kept you to herself for seven years.”

  I look down at my food. “I think she’s penitent, but it’s too late. No physician at work will give her the time of day.”

  “She’s not a bad person. I think she’s too… assertive.”

  Ain’t that the truth?

  I throw my hands in the air. I could have had the girl of my dreams and my daughter all this time. Even though I’m upset about missing out on so much, I know Tommy didn’t do anything to hurt me. Neither did Jennifer or Darla. I just wish she would have told me all of this back on the first day of orientation. Now that I know everything, I understand why she was so confused, mad, and stressed. She thought I was an arrogant jerk that didn’t want our baby. It all makes perfect sense now.

  “Talk about not getting the memo,” I say.

  She giggles. Boy, it has been a long time since I heard that sweet laugh of hers. I sit back and take a deep breath. I feel as though I have run a marathon. I sit up straight again and lean across the table. “Now let me ask you something. How often have you left that waiting room?”

  “Other than to pee or change clothes, not much.”

  I point at her. “See, that’s a good mommy.”

  She shrugs, and we’re enveloped in silence again. I feel as if that elephant is sitting on my chest.

  “I told Stella,” she finally says.

  “What?” I ask, fork dangling in midair.

  She blushes. “I wanted to tell her before she was sedated. So before she went into surgery the first time, I told her you were her daddy.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “She said ‘yes’ and fist-bumped me.”

  I grin. “That’s my girl.”

  “Your girl?”

  “Our girl.”

  We eat in silence for a bit, but I have to ask. Not knowing is eating me up. I missed so much. “What was it like being pregnant with Stella?”

  She beams with pride. She scrolls past our birthday photos on her phone then stops on one picture and hands me the phone. “Diane took this right before I went to the hospital to deliver.”

  It’s as though I’m staring at an angel. Darla looks the same, except she has the cutest bulging belly and this glow about her that I cannot describe. If I wasn’t in love with her before, this picture would have sealed the deal. She’s carrying our child. She didn’t have to, but she did.

  “Oh, Darla, you’re so beautiful. So happy.”

  “Happy and scared. Terrified, actually. Here’s something you’ll find more interesting.” She swipes a few more pictures out of the way. “Here’s the first picture of your daughter.”

  The tears stream down my face again. I can’t stop them. “I’m so sorry I missed—”

  “Nope. We don’t use that word anymore. It’s not your fault, remember?”

  I wipe my face dry. There’s one more item we need to clear up, and I would rather do it in private, not in front of the entire cafeteria staff and the few nurses currently on break.

  I slide out of the booth. “Let’s go outside for a stroll. When’s the last time you got some fresh air?”

  “Jennifer dragged me outside for about five minutes a few days ago, but I felt guilty, so I headed back in.”

  I take her hand. “Let me show you my favorite spot to de-stress when I’m working nights.”

  We take the elevator to the top floor of the hospital and walk out onto the rooftop patio. All the seats around the potted plants are vacant. Moths fly around the luminous black lanterns strung from pole to pole. Raised flower beds line the space between each set of
benches, and the fragrance from summer-blooming shrubs fills the air. At this time of night, it’s very peaceful up here. There’s hardly a sound except for an occasional car driving down the road and the low hum of air conditioner units. We’re the only ones here. Everyone else who knows about this place is more than likely at home by now.

  I lead Darla to the middle of the patio, where the strings of lanterns meet in a peak. “What do you think?”

  She spins in circles. “I didn’t know this even existed. It’s so quiet, and you can see the whole city from here.” She has never looked sexier.

  “Do you remember when I mentioned I wanted to do Doctors Without Borders?”

  Her eyes stay fixed on her sneakers as she nods.

  “I still want to do that, but Dr. Frank from the ER goes every year for a week or two and takes his entire family. Maybe someday, I’ll do that, but I had another idea. After you cut your hand, it got me thinking.”

  She waves her hand in my face. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s all better now.”

  I kiss the small line where the tuna can cut her hand.

  She wraps her fingers around mine and gives my hand a squeeze. “An urgent care center could have fixed it up if one was open that time of night.”

  “Exactly. There needs to be an urgent care center open twenty-four, seven. It could free up the ER to focus on sucking chest wounds and cardiac emergencies.”

  “What if it had a flat rate for each visit? That way, people who don’t have doctors can afford preventive care too.”

  I love this woman. She has a heart of gold. “I’d need a nurse who… knows what’s going on. You could wear that ridiculous T-shirt of yours if you want. You know, the one about talking to a nurse because she’ll know what’s going on.”

  She rewards me with an eye roll.

  “What do you say? Want to work with me?”

  “Heck yeah.”

  I give her a wink. “I’ve got a proposal written up for Dr. Frank to review. We’ll see what he says.”

  She gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I think it’s brilliant.”