Page 18 of Someone Like You
But Louise would die in a few weeks if she didn’t go. Even so, Dawson could hear the cry in her voice as her husband led her from the waiting room that morning. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. If I don’t make it.”
Larry had stopped in his tracks. “Don’t say that, love.” He faced her and put his hands on either side of her face. “Don’t ever say that. London needs you.” He paused and brought his lips to hers. “I need you.”
Louise put her head on his chest. “I’m sorry.”
But those weren’t the words Dawson remembered most from the last seventy-two hours.
The most crazy were the ones spoken in the hours after they arrived at the hospital Sunday. Dawson wasn’t even sure Louise would remember saying them. But she had. And they’d stayed with Dawson right up until this moment.
London had been an IVF baby? She had been created in a petri dish. And then her parents had donated three embryos to someone. Which meant somewhere out there it was possible London had brothers or sisters.
As many as three siblings.
He heard a sound from the hallway, and there they were. Louise and Larry. Both of them haggard, their eyes sunken. Larry looked at him. “Dialysis took a toll.”
“I’m sure.” Dawson turned to London. “She’s …” He didn’t want to finish the sentence. “She’s the same. Her breathing seems a little louder.”
They had wiped away most of the blood from her hair. And since a lot of her swelling from the medications had gone down, she almost looked like herself. Like Snow White … waiting for Prince Charming to wake her up.
Two doctors came to the door. A nurse was with them.A couple thoughts struck Dawson in that moment. First, all three looked defeated. And second, they weren’t in a hurry.
No,he wanted to shout.Do not come in here and tell us she’s worse. She’s getting better.She looked better than just three days ago.
The head of her medical team, Dr. Randall, broke the silence. “Take a seat please.” He had a chart with him. “We need to talk. All of us.”
The other doctor and the nurse kept their eyes downward.
“Nothing’s changed.” Dawson spoke first. He was struck by the confidence in his own voice. As if he were the expert and they were merely visitors. “I’ve been here … four hours and …” He shook his head. “She’s the same. Breathing a little louder, but no worse.”
Dr. Randall opened his chart. “I wish that were true.” He looked at Larry and Louise. “We’ve been monitoring her at the nurses’ station.” He glanced at the machines on either side of London. “I’m afraid … her heart rate and blood pressure have dropped dramatically.”
A slight ray of hope flashed in Larry’s eyes. “I’ve read online … when the heart starts to slow a little, in a situation like this”—his words came faster. Like he was desperate—“it can actually mean the patient is healing. The heart conserves energy while the body—”
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Quinn.” Dr. Randall paused. “That is not what’s happening here.”
“She can hear us, Doctor.” Dawson’s tone sounded sharper than he intended. “That’s what we were told. So maybe we can stay a little more positive here.”
“Yes. There was a chance of that … before.” Dr. Randall frowned. “Not anymore. We can talk candidly.”
Dawson’s heart pounded. London wasn’t healing? What was the man saying? He glanced at London’s parents. They looked pale and weak. Like they’d aged a decade in the past few minutes.
“We’ve all verified what’s happening.” Dr. Randall seemed to check with his medical team, first the doctor on his right, then the nurse on his left. “Though she’s breathing … her brain is showing very little activity.”
Dawson stared at London. Her brain wasn’t showing much activity? How could that be possible? She was here and she was with them. London was one of the smartest, wittiest people he knew. It was part of what always drew him to her. And now …
The doctor was explaining that London’s brain was shutting down because her damaged organs already had. “We believe she’s experiencing a series of strokes because of blood clots to the brain.”
What a terrible thing to tell Louise and Larry. Dawson wanted to run from the room and take London’s parents with him. He grabbed a quick breath. “Put her back on life support, then. You have to help her so …”
“She’s dying, Mr. Gage. Her major organs are bleeding and damaged beyond repair.” Dr. Randall closed his file and crossed his arms. “She might have another hour. Maybe two.” He nodded at Larry. “You can stay … until it happens. We’ve turned off the monitor alarms.” He hesitated. “Take as long as you need. We won’t bother you.”
But shouldn’t they want to bother London? Dawson couldn’t stop himself from asking the obvious question. “There has to be something you can do.” Desperation seized him. “What about treating the clots? Blood thinners, right?”
Dr. Randall was starting to look uncomfortable. “London cannot handle that. She still has uncontrolled internal bleeding. Life support won’t help. Neither will medicine.” He sighed. “This is an end-of-life situation.”
Dawson stared at the man for a long moment. Then he nodded. What more could he say? The room was turning around him, and someone was talking. But Dawson couldn’t hear. The medical team needed to leave so they could be with London. So they could pray for a miracle and watch God make it happen.
Finally the doctor and his colleagues walked out and shut the door behind them. Dawson and London’s parents were alone with her. Dawson moved to the left side of her bed and took her hand. “London.” He’d always loved her name, the way it sounded. Saying it now felt like a breath of hope. Because she was still here, still breathing.
