Page 88 of Hypothetical Heart
“Come over here and listen to this.” He motions for me to come closer, handing me the stethoscope.
I let out a sigh, knowing if he’s letting me do this, then it can’t be that serious.
“What am I listening for?” I don’t hear anything significant when I first put the ends in my ears.
“You need to count how long it takes for you to hear the first heartbeat.” He spends a few more minutes showing me how, talking me through it, as Winnie sits there like the willing participant she is.
When I confirm with my minimal knowledge that her blood pressure is extremely high, her dad leaves the room. I’m assuming he’s grabbing a nurse.
“Your heart seems to be beating out of your chest, Miss Carter.”
She smiles lightly, in a fog from the painkillers they’ve given her. “Only when you’re around.”
“Don’t play with my heart like that.” Thank goodness I’m not hooked up to a monitor because my heart rate definitely just skyrocketed.
“How does it feel knowing I was your first-ever patient?” she teases.
“It will forever go down in history,” I counter, grabbing her hand.
Dr. Carter comes back in the room with a nurse and a different doctor in tow.
Suddenly, Winnie’s face goes white. “Elizabeth?”
“Winnie, hi,” the doctor says. “Wow, I haven’t seen you since?—”
“Since the night my mom died,” Winnie interrupts.
Elizabeth gulps, brushing her comment off quickly. “Well, I looked at your x-rays, and there’s some good news and bad news.”
“First, we’re going to give you something for your blood pressure. You probably won’t have to stay on it long, but right now, you need it,” her dad tells her.
Winnie nods, still staring at Elizabeth. “What did my x-rays say?”
“Bad news: you have a stress fracture in your foot and a bit of tendonitis, just as the EMTs presumed,” Elizabeth says. “But the good news is, you’ll be back to ballet within the time summer’s over.”
It's not the news Winnie wanted to hear, but it’s almost the best-case scenario.
A tear rolls down her face, and my hand becomes her vice. She’s gripping it like she’s dangling off the side of a cliff, and I’m the only thing that can pull her back up.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her softly, my head burying in her hair.
Her dad steps out of the room, no doubt upset for his daughter.
“So, what now?” I ask Elizabeth.
“Neither cases need surgery, so you’re going to get a cast on the foot, stay off of it for six weeks, and then we’ll reevaluate,” she explains.
Watching them bring in the supplies to put a cast on Winnie breaks my heart. They ask her if she wants to pick the color, but she stays silent, staring at the ceiling. They look at me when she doesn’t answer.
“Pink,” I tell them.
They wrap her leg in the plaster, explaining every step to her.
“This cast is only meant to immobilize the bone for thetime being. It’s not a death sentence,” I whisper to her, knowing she’s barely listening to the doctors.
They teach her how to use crutches and make her practice around the room before they leave. I’ve never seen someone look so miserable.
“This is the best-case scenario, honey,” her dad tells her when he reenters the room. “It could be a lot worse. You could have torn something and needed surgery.”
