Page 7 of Family Secrets

“Elizabeth Smith.”

“Elizabeth Smith,” the receptionist repeated, turning her gaze back to the computer monitor, wrapping the telephone cord around her finger several times. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Elizabeth watched as the woman nodded her head, “Yes, ma’am.” Before replacing the phone on the cradle.

“Ms. Smith, if you will have a seat in the chairs over there,” she pointed to the left of Elizabeth where a row of empty chairs rested against a wall. “The nurse will be out and take you back to her.”

Elizabeth thanked the elderly woman, adjusted her purse on her shoulder and took several heavy steps toward the waiting area. She tried to relax into the antiquated seat, its burnt orange color reminding her of the discarded sofa which sat on Jonah’s parent’s front porch. Its hardened fabric a result of years of weather and pet damage.

“Smith?” Elizabeth jumped up from her seat at the sound of her name, turning to her left to find a woman dressed in light blue scrubs, a stethoscope draped around her neck. Crossing the room without hesitation, she stopped just shy of the nurse whose name tag read Sandy, RN, recalling this was the name the receptionist used while on the phone.

“Hello, are you Elizabeth?”

“Yes. Is my grandmother okay? Can I see her?”

The nurse took a step back, swiping a card through a panel beside the door behind her. “Let me take you to her, the doctor can fill you in.”

Fear as she’d never felt before, ran cold through her veins. Elizabeth was foreign to hospitals and sick people, but it didn’t take a seasoned individual to know something was wrong.

Keeping in step with the nurse, Elizabeth followed the slender blonde into a large hall, the air around them filled with low conversations, machine alarms, and scrub clad individuals milling about. Elizabeth tried to keep her focus on the back of the nurse, avoiding the open doors on either side of her. But as the nurse made a sudden stop, Elizabeth’s world shattered as she took in the tiny woman lying in the center of the bed.

“Granny.” She cried, the fear pulsing through her justified, allowing the tears she’d held at bay to fall like tiny rivers down her face. Ignoring the nurse’s warning beside her, Elizabeth ran to the side of the bed, dropping to her knees, her purse falling somewhere along the way. Wires and cords ran in every direction, but it was the large tube taped to the side of her mouth which forced her fear to shift to terror.

“I’m so sorry, Lizzie.”

Her eyes darted from the white tube to Rose’s distraught face, lines of dried tears, blackened with mascara, stained her cheeks. “I tried calling the Co-op all the way here, but the phone rang and rang.”

“It’s okay, Rose. Crops are ready, so the phones have been crazy.” Standing to her feet, she wiped the tears from her face, the memory of her morning with Karen ignoring her duties filling her mind.

“She kept mumbling she had to talk to you…” Rose trailed off, her voice cracking with emotion.

Rounding the bed, Elizabeth took the woman who’d helped raise her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head as they rocked back and forth.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Rose pushed away, pulling a tissue from her pocket, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.

“We were sitting at the kitchen table like we always do when Birdie asked if I had any brown sugar. I said I thought I did so I went home to check. When I came back, she was lying on the floor, eyes in the back of her head and body a twitching. I called the fire department and then the—"

A knock from behind the pair halted Rose from finishing her sentence, Elizabeth swung her head toward the door, the sight of a man wearing a lab coat causing her heart rate to increase.

“Elizabeth Smith?”

“Yes,” she nodded, rising to her feet.

“I’m Dr. Griffin,” the man in the white lab coat extended his hand as he crossed the room, his skin cold against Elizabeth’s. “One of the Neurologists here at Grady. Dr. Owen, the ER attending, called me when Mrs. Smith was brought in by ambulance.”

“Ms.” Elizabeth corrected, unsure why she felt the need. “My grandmother never married.” Adding with the best smile she could conjure.

“Forgive me,” Dr. Griffin defended, returning a small smile of his own, an alarm on the ventilator capturing his attention. “I shouldn’t assume based on a woman’s age and the presence of a grandchild she is married.”

Elizabeth instantly felt horrible for the correction, her grandmother’s lack of partner was the topic of many hushed conversations, none of them worth repeating. “Her first name is Beatrice, Dr. Griffin, but everyone calls her Birdie due to her obsession with wild birds.”

Dr. Griffin pulled the small stool from beside the heart monitor, mentally preparing himself to deliver the type of news no physician enjoys giving.

“Ms. Smith, I believe in treating each of my patients as if they were a member of my family and by extension their family as well. You and your grandmother are no exception. I won't lie to you, in all of my thirty years as a physician I’ve never seen a stroke as severe as the one your grandmother suffered.”

Elizabeth’s hand found her mouth, Rose coming to stand behind her, gripping her arm.

“I want to run some tests, but I need you to prepare yourself to receive the results of these tests.”

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