“My granddaughter is here, love,” Ellie spoke sweetly. “Name’s Caroline Hunt?”
“Yes,” she said, “she’s with a doctor now.”
“May we see her?” she asked.
“Just a moment,” the nurse answered, standing up and heading through double doors.
I saw a row of seats near the desk and helped Ellie sit. She was so calm, so sweet, but she was leaning on me so heavily. I knew she was emotionally wrecked. My heart bled for her. I sat next to her and set her hands in my own.
We sat quietly, waiting for the nurse. It was taking forever. It always infuriated me when hospital staff took their time. I understood that this was the day-to-day of their jobs, but to us, to the family of the sick, it was a place where every minute, every second, felt like torment. I hated the casual “wait” attitude they possessed. It made me want to shake them. There was no sense of urgency when it came to their patients’ families, and I thought that cruel. At a time where compassion should be priority, it fell so quickly to the wayside with the humdrum of their work.
The nurse finally strolled in with a “They’re working on her now. I’ll let you know something when I do.”
“Is she conscious? Still breathing?” I demanded. “Can you give us anything?”
“I’m not sure,” she explained and walked away.
Ellie and I prayed together and waited...and waited and waited and waited.
Two hours passed and we hadn’t heard anything, making Ellie so nervous she was looking pale.
I stood and marched over to the nurse’s desk. “Anything?” I asked as nicely as I could.
“Let me check,” she said, incensing me.
I stood by the doors, my arms crossed, and waited, again.
She came back ten minutes later. “I’m sorry, but she was moved to the Critical Care Unit more than half an hour ago.”
“What the hell?! Ellie,” I said, turning toward her, “she’s in CCU.”
I ignored the nurse when she tried to give us directions.
“I’ll just follow the signs,” I told her.
I supported Ellie’s arm in the elevator and guided her down the hall toward the Critical Care Unit sign.
“Can I help you?” a nurse asked as we approached.
“Yes, we’re looking for a patient. Her name’s Caroline Hunt.”
“Oh yes, she’s in room seven.”
“Is she,” I swallowed, “okay?”
“I believe so,” she said, smiling.
Ellie fell a little bit against me in relief, breaking my heart. “Thank God,” I said.
“Thank God, indeed,” she smiled.
We approached the room slowly, hoping not to wake her if she was asleep, and slid the large glass door open. I slid the curtain back a little and took in Cricket.
She leaned forward a bit and smiled at the both of us, though she looked pale beyond belief and her hair was rustled.
“Hi,” she said cheerfully.
“Oh God, Cricket,” I nearly broke down, hugging her. I kissed the top of her head, side of her face and lips. “You scared us to death.”
“It’s okay,” she told us. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not,” I told her, gesturing to her bed.
She was hooked up to numerous machines, and it was overwhelming me.
I realized I had taken over Cricket when Ellie appeared at my side. “I’m so sorry, Ellie,” I told her, making way for her.
“Granddaughter,” she said softly, “which doctor have you spoken to?”
“Caldwell was here earlier but he left. He’ll be back soon though and explain it all.”
I’d forgotten that they probably knew the physicians there, that they’d been struggling with this for who knows how many years. I looked about the room and grabbed a chair for Ellie and she sat. I wheeled the doctor’s chair over to the side of Cricket’s bed and held her hand.
“I wish you’d told me,” I said.
A tear escaped. “If I had told you, you would have seen the sick me and not the real me. I loved so much that you saw me for me. I loved that you didn’t cut me slack or make excuses for me. I loved that you called me out.”
“I’m so sorry,” I told her, bringing her hand to my lips. “I am so sorry for the insensitive things I’ve done and said.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” she laughed. “I liked that you treated me normally, Spencer. I loved it.”
A tall man with white hair approached the glass doors and knocked. “Can I come in?” he asked.
“Come in, Dr. Caldwell,” Cricket instructed, waving him in. “Caldwell, this is Spencer Blackwell,” she said, introducing me. “Spencer, this is my nephrologist, Dr. Caldwell.”
I stood and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to finally put a name to a face,” he said.
I looked down at Cricket and she shrugged. “You came up a lot during dialysis.”
I smiled at her.
I gave the doctor his stool but he refused it. “No, no, sit. I won’t be long.”
“Thank you.”
He sighed, making my blood pressure spike. “Well, it’s happening, and frankly, sooner than I thought it would.”
Ellie and Cricket nodded but my blood ran cold. I didn’t understand.
“We ran a screen,” he continued, “and your levels were through the roof, Cricket.”
She nodded as if she expected this.