Page 68 of Crazy for You
She rubbed my back. “He needs us, Skye. And Dr. Branson will take care of him.”
I blinked several times to clear my vision. “Georgia’s dad is working today?” I pushed out a relieved breath, as though Georgia’s dad had a miracle up his sleeve. He didn’t, but he knew my dad and what he was going through, and that comforted me.
Nan gave me a sad smile. The whites around her brown eyes were red. “Let’s go in.” She sounded hesitant.
Isaac was fiddling with Dad’s IV when Nan and I entered. As Dad lay unconscious, I couldn’t help but think he was in peace for the first time in over a year.
“His fever has dropped slightly. So that’s a good sign,” Isaac said.
I wasn’t sure if I agreed, but I would take anything I could get and celebrate the small wins, the small moments, even if the outcome was still the same.
The room didn’t have much except the essentials, such as boxes of gloves in holders on one wall, a monitor above Dad’s bed that read his vital signs, and a rolling cart with a keyboard and computer. Underneath that were syringes and other medical supplies needed for the doctors and nurses to do their jobs.
I shuffled up to Dad’s bedside on shaky legs, with Nan right on my heels.
“The tests aren’t back yet, but Dr. Branson is ninety-nine percent sure it’s pneumonia,” Nan said.
“He should be in shortly,” Isaac said as he finished adjusting the drip on Dad’s IV.
I found Dad’s clammy hand and held it, careful not to touch the pulse oximeter on his finger. “Is the pneumonia from him choking last night?”
“I couldn’t say,” Isaac said. “Aspiration pneumonia does come on rather rapidly, though, and is common in ALS patients.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I’d remembered Dad’s neurologist saying that very thing, which was why I always freaked out when Dad choked.
I stared at him through a cloud of tears, trying not to think the worst. “Can I be alone with him?”
I loved Nan to death, but I wanted time alone with my dad. Even if he wasn’t lucid, maybe he could hear me.
Nan patted my arm. “Take your time. I’m going to get coffee, and I need to call the hospice people back.”
My heart rate sped. Hospice was coming, so he probably only had a few months left.
Nan brushed a stray hair out of my eye. “It doesn’t mean he’s going to die in the next month. But we need to prepare, and a nurse will come in once or twice a week to monitor your dad’s progress and keep him comfortable.”
Even though I knew she was right, it seemed that we were hammering the final nail into Dad’s coffin. “I know.” I worried my trembling bottom lip. I wanted my dad around longer.
She pinned me with a motherly look, lifting her chin. “He needs us to be strong.”
I wasn’t sure if I could be. But she was right. If Dad—no, scratch that.WhenDad woke up, I wanted him to see us happy.
Once Nan was gone and Isaac was no longer in the room, I mindlessly stared out the glass doors, digging deep for strength and courage. A group of nurses laughed at something Isaac was saying at their circular station, which seemed to be where the party was. Envy washed over me. I wanted to laugh as though I didn’t have a care in the world.
A tall man ambled toward the group, and it took me a second to realize it was Dr. Branson. He said something to the nurses before they broke up, scurrying to get back to work. Dr. Branson spoke with Isaac before he flicked his blond head of hair toward me.
Isaac’s lips moved as he responded to Dr. Branson. Georgia’s dad didn’t look pleased as the features around his green eyes wrinkled. Then he nodded to Isaac as he strutted my way.
I prepared for the bad news I was sure Dr. Branson would deliver. He entered with his hands tucked into his white coat pockets, stoic and professional instead of the casual and relaxed vibe he usually wore when I was at Georgia’s house.
Before he said anything, I was in his arms as though he could save Dad and me. “Please tell me he’ll come out of this.”
He grasped the sides of my arms, his expression soft. “I can’t, honey.”
I knew he couldn’t, but I wanted hope. I needed hope. I needed something to take away the grief burning a hole in my chest.
“Skyler, we’ll do everything we can.”
I could hear the “but” in his voice, and he didn’t have to say anything else.
