Page 49 of Alone With You
Jenny settled back down into the pillow. Too much all at once, she could hardly keep up.
“But…”Ouch.Swallowing felt like an elastic-snap. “It…was just a bee.”
“I know. Such a severe response is rare.” The doctor rolled back to pull a chart from a hook at the end of the bed, talking as she toed the chair back in place. “If you had been anywhere else but off-road, EMTS would have come by ambulance in time to give you a shot to counteract the venom and your inflammation response. That’s what usually happens in these cases.”
“I’ve been…stung before.” She sounded like a lifetime smoker.
“Dr. Macallister did note that sensitizing event in the admission notes. The first sting a week or so ago alerted your immune system of the danger of the venom. When you got stung again so soon after, your immune system launched all weapons full force. Your body overreacted, in other words.”
“What…” Her blood went cold. “…you’re saying…”
“Yes.” Dr. Nguyen delivered the word without a hitch in her voice. “You almost died in those woods, Ms. Vance.”
Not possible. Botanists don’t die of bee stings.
“That’s why you are the luckiest woman in the world.” The doctor braced the chart on her lap, two hands on the top. “You weren’t in the deep woods with justanydoctor. A dermatologist or a radiologist or almost any kind of –ologist couldn’t do what Dr. Macallister did for you. I’m not sure evenIcould have done it, without botching the job. But you’re not exhibiting any of the secondary complications we might expect from surgery with rudimentary tools in the back woods. It’s a miracle, considering the risks he took. I bet you’ll hardly have a scar.”
A miracle.
“You won’t remember, but when the two of you showed up yesterday, it was quite a scene. Most of us here in the emergency room have read Dr. Macallister’s papers, at one time or another. They read like thrillers. He’s an emergency-medicine rock star.”
Logan…saved me.
“Of course,” the doctor added, with a clearing of her throat, “a tracheostomyisa relatively simple procedure. You didn’t need anything exotic like pit’s-bladder saline bags or odd homeopathic remedies, but you still couldn’t have chosen a better hiking partner.”
Jenny pressed her head deeper into the pillow, drowning under the tsunami of revelations.
“You’re doing well,” the doctor continued, “but we’ll keep you another day or two for observation.” The doctor glanced at her watch and stood up. “Since this kind of allergic reaction to a wasp or bee sting could very well happen again, I’ll send an allergist down to talk to you about venom immunotherapy and other options. You’ll have to be extra careful from now on about stings, but the therapy is 99% effective. In the interim, you’ll have to carry an adrenaline shot for emergencies.”
Jenny nodded once, carefully, but heard nothing but a garble of words, none of which answered the question: Where was Logan? She needed to see him, hold his hand, and look into his face. Until then, this wouldn’t feel real.
“Try to rest,” the doctor said. I’ll call Dr. Macallister know that you’re up and responsive.” The doctor patted her on the shoulder before heading toward the door with a click of low heels. “Such a lucky woman, Ms. Vance, in so many ways.”
The nurse followed the doctor out of the room. Jenny didn’t feel very lucky right now. She felt sore and achy and fuzzyheaded and it was only just starting to sink in that she was in a hospital bed with an IV pinching in her arm with bruises the size of Kansas on her chest. One truth was rising up to her consciousness growing to block out all other information: But for Logan cutting into her windpipe in the park, right now she’d be dancing on the clouds with Granny.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d had an emergency appendectomy when she was twenty-three years old, and hated every moment she’d spent on her back in the hospital. Her parents had flown into Washington State from New York to ensure that her basic needs were met, critically examine the stitches, all while keeping the staff on their toes. But her parents were thousands of miles away right now, and it wasn’t them she was longing for.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 9:35 pm. Was it the same day? Or had she been out for over twenty-four hours? Maybe her lack of understanding had something to do with pain medication. That would explain why her eyes were open but she was still groggy. Why her heart ached, as if it, too, had been bruised by the pressure of his hands during CPR. It would also explain why, when she blinked her eyes open again, the room had suddenly gone dim. She must have fallen asleep. She could barely make out the clock on the wall, which now read11:45 pm.
She heard a whirring sound. Something small vibrated against her leg. A burst of bluish light lit the air around her. Startled, she padded her thighs until she found her cellphone, buzzing.
She caught her breath at the name and tapped to answer. “Logan?”
“Oh, God.” Logan’s voice choked with relief “It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Yours…too.”
“For more than one reason. What I did to you—” his voice hitched “--the tracheostomy. My utility knife is no scalpel, but it’s all I had. But you’re speaking now, thank God. No damage to the larynx. How’s the swallowing?”
She tested it out. Working her throat hurt a little less sore than when she’d first woken up. “It’s…okay.”
“No aspiration. Excellent.” She heard the scrape of something—his fingers through his hair? “I know it’s painful to talk, so let me do the talking—”
“Logan.” A hoarse interruption, but he paused. “You…saved me.”
“No—don’t.” He made a strange noise. “I don’t want gratitude. It’s just what I do. I kept you alive. You were strong, so strong.”
She pressed the phone against her ear, wishing he had called her by video so she could see the expressions on his face. His voice sounded weird. Uneasy, uncomfortable, a little frustrated. It brought to mind that heartbreaking evening in his work shed, when she’d asked too many questions about the carved birds, and about his work as an emergency doctor in the Amazon.
