Page 56 of All's Fair in Love and Christmas
“You can drop me off here,” I say, not wanting to be any more of a burden. “I’ll call Keri to pick me up later or just sleep here tonight in her room if I’m allowed.”
Jeremy ignores me and continues driving toward the parking area. “I’m not leaving you to face this alone.” He turns off the ignition. “And you won’t have to call Keri because she’s been following us the entire time.”
“What?”
He nods behind me. I turn to see another car pull up beside us. Alejandro is behind the steering wheel, Keri in the passenger seat.
“They left right after we did. We’re all here for you, Mackenzie.”
My nose and the back of my eyes burn. I blink, trying to keep the well of tears from rising to the surface. If I give in to them now, I won’t be able to stop crying, and I need to be strong to face what’s going on with my mom and what’s in store for me.
I’m surrounded as we make our way inside the hospital. Keri breaks away and walks ahead.
“We’re looking for Caroline Graham,” she tells the lady behind the desk.
“Are you family?” she asks.
I step forward. “I’m her daughter.”
She types on her keyboard, looking at her computer screen. “Your mother is in room 202.”
“Thank you.”
There’s a bank of elevators to the left. We ride up to the second floor and look at the numbers on the doors to find the right one.
Finally. 202.
I reach for the handle just as the door opens. A doctor in blue scrubs startles when he sees us standing there.
“Oh, hello. Are you here to see Caroline Graham?” He peeks down at the tablet in his hands.
“I’m her daughter,” I offer before he can ask. “How is she? What happened?”
“Miss Graham, your mother is going to be fine.” He lowers the tablet to his side. “She’s sleeping now, but the condition wascaught in the early stages. She’s now receiving effective treatment.”
“I’m sorry, what condition?” Did condition mean cancer? Some other disease? Would my mom have yet another long fight ahead of her?
“My apologies.” He takes a step so he can shut the door behind him. “Your mother came in with an increased heart rate, low blood pressure, and mental confusion.”
I shifted my weight. “She has Alzheimer’s. She’s often confused.”
“Which is why it took a little longer for the staff at the memory care facility to recognize the symptoms. Your mother has sepsis stemming from a urinary tract infection.”
I gasp. People die from septic shock.
“As I said,” the doctor reassures me, “she’s receiving effective treatment for both the sepsis and the active infection. I have every confidence that she will make a full recovery from this episode.”
I swallow. “Can I see her?”
He takes a step to the side so he’s no longer blocking the door. “Of course. But like I said, she’s resting now.”
I thank him, and he continues down the hall.
“Do you want to go in alone, or do you want us to come with you?” Keri asks.
She’s holding Alejandro’s hand, their fingers intertwined. It’s sweet that they came to be with me and offer their support, but they don’t need to sit on uncomfortable hospital furniture in a dark room and watch a lady they have no connection to rest in a medicine-induced sleep.
“Why don’t you guys see if the cafeteria is open and split a Jell-O cup? You never got dessert at the restaurant.” I try to smile to reassure Keri that I’ll be fine.
