Page 147 of Puck Me Secretly

The panic must have shown on my face.

“Go with your Dad. I’ll handle this.”

The rideto the hospital was a nightmare. I sat in the front with the driver while the sirens screamed and we swerved and weaved around traffic. The paramedic in the back continued to perform CPR on Dad.

At the hospital, they took Dad away, and a nurse stopped me, asking me questions I didn’t have answers to.

Did Dad have a history of heart disease?

Had he had an EKG in the last 6 months?

Was he on any medication?

Did our family have a history of heart disease?

What was his cholesterol count?

“I don’t know,” I spoke the same words over, again and again.

CHAPTER 51

That day in the hospital,was the worst day of my life. Dad went in for quadruple by-pass surgery. Mom showed up, half-hysterical. The nurse called his GP, who reported that he had diagnosed Dad with advanced blocked heart valves and he had recommended to Dad that he should take immediate action, but for reasons only Dad could answer, he ignored his doctor’s advice.

Dad survived surgery. Now he lay, in critical condition, in the intensive care unit. Mom was beside herself. Barely functioning and not speaking.

After hours of tending to her, I went home to retrieve some items for her, some clothes, a book, her toothbrush. I booked her a room in the hotel across the street, in case she wanted to go lie down for an hour, or take a shower, but she refused.

The media stalked the front of the hospital. Dozens of well-meaning friends called Mom’s cell, all of which I fielded.

At ten PM, I watched in disbelief as Baxter showed up and hugged Mom.

“How’s he doing?”

Mom fought tears. “They don’t know. They said that the next 48 hours are touch and go.”

Baxter gave Mom a sympathetic smile that made my stomach roll. “What can I do to help?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“The timing is terrible, Helena, but the February trade deadlines are looming.”

“I don’t care about hockey.”

“Your husband does.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Let me handle this for you.”

She lifted her tear-stained face. “Would you do that?”

“Mom,” I cut in. “I can handle that.”

“Rory, your place is here with your father.”

“Mom.”

“Enough!” She silenced me with her steely eyes.

Baxter pressed his lips together. “I’d need you to give me legal proxy.”

“Whatever you need.”

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