Page 22 of Saving Emily
Still optimistic, I nod. When Jacob stirred Noah, he initially balled his hands, but once he unclenched them, they moved for the respirator in an attempt to pull out his breathing tube. I gathered one of the nurses outside of Noah’s room for assistance. Although she arrived quickly, she said Noah had to be weaned off the ventilator system, and she couldn’t simply remove it as Jacob and I were hoping.
While she organized a sedative for Noah, Jacob held down Noah’s hands so he couldn’t pull out the tube. It was distressing seeing him trying to remove it, even though he was unconscious. It made me panicked he could feel pain.
Once the nurse gave Noah a sedative, around five minutes later, he stopped fighting against Jacob’s hold. I could see in Jacob’s eyes how much he hated holding Noah down. It was a good sign Noah was moving, but it didn’t lessen Jacob’s guilt in the slightest.
Over the next several days, they weaned Noah off the ventilator system, and he was recorded taking shallow breaths. With reports positive, today, Dr. Kirkpatrick will remove the tube causing Noah’s discomfort, and fingers crossed, he'll maintain adequate breathing patterns.
When Dr. Kirkpatrick requests his interns to commence the procedure, Jacob moves to stand next to me. We stare at the monitors on the side of Noah’s bed, seeking any indication his breathing levels shift while the tube is removed. His heart rate increases slightly when he struggles through his first unaided breaths, but his oxygen levels remain within the required safe range.
“He’s doing it, Jacob,” I say proudly, smiling.
Jacob curls his arm around my shoulders to squeeze me tight. “He sure is, Em.”
With everyone’s focus on Noah, I place my hand on my rapidly growing bump where I silently pledge to our baby that his daddy is coming home.He’s coming back to us.
“He’s handling the removal of the ventilator well. We’ll continue monitoring him for the next several hours, but if he maintains the oxygen levels he has now, he shouldn’t require re-ventilation. If that is the case, we will lower the amount of medication we’re giving him. Certain drugs, such as morphine, can cause patients to have side effects that include shallow breathing. It will be a slow process, but it will ensure he’s comfortable while he continues with his recovery.”
Jacob and I nod in understanding, our smiles uncontained. Noah just took a massive step in his recovery. He's breathing unaided.
* * *
A few hours later, I’m saying a tearful goodbye to Jacob, who was given a sentence of probation and five hundred hours of community service. He’s also mandated to attend counseling sessions for anger management, meaning he can no longer stay at Noah’s side twenty-four-seven like he has the past two months.
“I’ll come back and visit every weekend, I promise.” He wraps me in a tight embrace that reminds me of just how huge he is. “If anything happens, call me straight away.”
I wipe at a handful of rogue tears on my cheeks before stepping out of his embrace. "I will, Jake, I promise."
After messing my hair as he always does Noah's, he gives Noah a quick man-hug before he bolts out of the room. The guilt he feels for leaving Noah is written all over his face. He promised at the start of Noah's recovery to be at his side every day, and he hates that he’s being forced to break his promise. I tried to tell him he has nothing to be guilty about, that this is out of his hands, but nothing I said helped.
Jacob and Noah’s bond is stronger than anyone realizes. They're family even without them having a drop of the same blood.
* * *
A few hours later, I'm huddled in a ball on the reclining chair in Noah’s room, suffering a severe case of morning sickness, even with it being late in the afternoon. My lips twist when a lady enters unannounced. She doesn’t seem to have noticed me in the corner, leaving me free to stalk her. I’ve never seen her before, and her demeanor is a little hard for me to read. I can’t tell if she is friend or foe.
“Hmmm, who do I have here: Noah Taylor, singer, twenty-three years old, single, no children,” she reads from a clipboard in front of her.
Her face grows sterner the longer she scans the documentation. She isn't wearing a nurse's uniform, and she isn't dressed professionally as the doctors do, so I'm curious as to who she is. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a tight bun, she has a medium build, and is approximately the same height as me. She isn't wearing any makeup, and for a good reason. Her skin is beautifully flawless. If I had to guess her age, I'd say she's late twenties, early thirties.
“What happened to you?” She raises her manicured brow into her hairline, showing off her hazel eyes. “Drug overdose, drunk driving. . . Hmmm.”
My heart plummets into my stomach as my teeth grind together. “His taxi was hit by a semi-trailer.” I don’t know who this lady is, but the fact she’s judging Noah makes me furious. “You don’t even know him, so how can you judge him like that?”
With her pupils as wide as saucers, she mumbles out an apology before swiftly turning on her heel and bolting out of the room. I remain still, frozen in shock, disgraced on how someone could judge anyone via a piece of paper?
When my anger surges to a point I can't contain, I furiously growl before hot-footing it into the hallway in search of the lady who just left. Upon entering the sanitary smelling space, I find her leaning her head on the glass partition of the nurse's quarters.
Her head lifts when she registers my approach. After taking a few seconds to drink in the fury pumping out of me in invisible waves, she murmurs, “I’m so sorry.”
My frustration quickly dissolves when our eyes collide. Hers are riddled with guilt, but it’s barely seen through the sadness that’s settled deep within her soul.
“I should have never said what I did. I’m so very sorry,” she continues to apologize as her eyes well with tears.
I'm torn on accepting her apology. I want to hold a grudge, but our exchange taught me a vital lesson. It revealed why Noah is so protective of the people he loves: because his love is fierce and fearless. With Noah in my corner, I'll never fear anything, and my exchange with this stranger exposed neither will he, because l will fight for him as fiercely as he's fighting to come back for me.
I nod, accepting the stranger’s apology before returning to Noah’s room. After toeing off my ballet flats, I slip into his bed. I don’t care if I get reprimanded. I need him as close to me as possible, so I can project to him how much I love him. I can’t do that solely with words.
After snuggling in close, I float my fingers over his chest and face. His body is healing so well, just by looking at him, you'd never know the battles he's faced—not now or during his childhood. He seems at peace.
