Discovering Chapter Thirteen: Part Two
Part One already posted.
Please see Chapter summary and disclaimers via part one.
One more shout out to beachtree .
Discovering
Chapter Thirteen : Part Two of Two
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A call is in order to Kirsten and Seth.
Seth answers his mother’s cell on the third ring.
“Good evening. Hotel Hell.”
“Lovely,” I counter. “Where’s your mother? Can I speak to her?”
“Mom’s on the room phone turning all Grandpa with a representative from the airline.”
I smile at the image. My soft spoken wife can turn Dr. Jekyll when needed.
“I’m claustrophobic,” Seth continues. “This place sucks. My Internet went down. All the cable stations are off the air. I’m watching Hilton TV. Have you ever watched hotel TV?”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, barely listening to his complaints.
“How’s Ryan?” he asks.
“Better. Much better. They’re removing the breathing tube.”
“Really?”
He sounds emotionally ten times improved than he did twenty seconds ago. “Isn’t that sooner than you thought they would?”
“Hours sooner,” I say. “And he’s waking up, sort of. Well…there’s less sedation at least.”
“That’s awesome, right?” Seth asks. “I mean that’s awesome.”
I whole-heartedly agree with him. “Yes. Yes it is.”
“Mom’s threatening a law suit if we don’t fly out of here by tomorrow. The airline is telling us we have to wait until all the flights that were scheduled before us go.”
“So they are finally going to let planes out?” I ask.
God, things are looking up. Ryan is finally improving. My family might be coming home. I’m afraid I’ll jinx all of us if I get too excited.
“Evidently,” Seth tells me. “I’m not holding my breath. I’ll believe it when we’re in the air and I’m eating my complimentary six peanuts.”
He doesn’t sound the least bit mad at me anymore. He’s evidently not holding a grudge from our previous fight over the phone.
I imagine that his shift in mood has something to do with Ryan getting better and the possibility of him and his mother getting the hell out of Rhode Island.
“Can Summer see Ryan?” Seth asks. “She could stay with him while you sleep. You’re sleepy, right? Even the Cohen men must sleep.”
I love how he’s pretending that his only reason for wanting Summer to get a firsthand look at what’s going on with Ryan is purely out of concern for my well-being.
He’s so full of it.
What he really wants is a detailed report from an objective source.
“I don’t think he should have visitors,” I tell Seth. “Now that Ryan is awake, or at least has a chance to stay awake, he’s in charge again of who gets to see him. We’ll let him decide once he’s officially processing information whether or not Summer can drop in.”
“Can I talk to him?” Seth asks, accepting for the time being my decision about Summer.
“No,” I answer. “Not yet. Give him a few hours to recuperate before you start in on him. He’s still very sick.”
There’s a second of silence before Seth asks, “He’s not dying, right? I mean... he’s getting better, but if he’s so sick I can’t talk to him...”
“Still not dying,” I assure him. “Ryan was never dying, Seth.”
There’s silence and I can tell that he doesn’t necessarily believe me.
“I’ll have Mom call you back as soon as she’s done castrating the guy on the phone.”
It’s a very disturbing mental picture he leaves me with.
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I can’t stand staying in the lounge, but Dr. Murphy told me to, so I pace and watch TV that has the sound muted and then I pace some more.
I glance at my watch.
It’s five o’clock in the afternoon.
How in the hell did that happen?
In reality, it’s been only a half hour since I had to leave Ryan’s room.
It feels a lot longer.
“Mr. Cohen?”
I’m caught off guard. Expecting to see Dr. Murphy, instead I see Dr. De Graff, Ryan’s ER doctor, along with Neil Roberts.
“Hey,” I say, extending my hand to greet De Graff. “I thought you had a few days off.”
He smiles and tells me, “Yeah. I did. Then Doctor Jefferson’s wife decided to deliver their baby early and poof, no more days off. It’s no fun being on the bottom of the attending food chain.”
“I don’t imagine it is,” I respond.
Truth be told, I’m relieved to see a familiar doctor. There’s just something about De Graff that instantly makes me feel comfortable.
“So,” he says, “I’ll be taking over for Dr. Murphy. Ryan’s off the breathing machine and resting. We have him on 100% oxygen because his left lung is giving him trouble. Hopefully we can remove the mask by tomorrow. It’ll depend on the amount of fluid in his lungs and how deep of breaths the bruised tissue will allow. The dialysis is completed. We’ll reassess how his kidneys are doing in 24 hours to determine if he’ll need another round.”
“Can I see my son?” I ask eagerly.
De Graff nods and I follow him and Neil into Ryan’s room.
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As I enter, it appears as though Ryan is asleep. The nurse, Sasha, is organizing things around the bed, adjusting the sheets and tubes and mounds of wires.
Just as De Graff warned me, there’s an oxygen mask covering much of Ryan’s face, but good Lord, is it nice to see that fucking tube gone and not hear the dreaded whooshing of the vent.
Ryan’s head is turned slightly to the right on the pillow, his preferred position when sleeping.
Sasha holds a finger up, motioning to me to hang on a second.
She places a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and gently tells him, “Open your eyes, Ryan. Your father’s here.”
I jump ahead to the side of the bed, watching in anticipation for Ryan’s eyes to open.
Sure enough, after a moment, they do.
“You’ll have to lean over to hear him,” she tells me. “His throat is quite sore.”
I nod and do as she suggests, craning over, getting as close to Ryan’s face as I can.
“Ryan? Son? I’m right here, kid.”
His chest is exposed again, the multiple layers of blankets reduced to just a few thin ones and along with noticing the still black and purple bruising along his side, I am aware of the fact that his breathing, despite being vent free, still seems forced in a way, almost irregular. I wonder if it’s a side effect of having the tube down his lungs or simply the lingering congestion and pain from the broken ribs.
Ryan’s eyes slide almost shut, staying open just a slit.
He asks in a barely audible, gravelly voice, “Sandy?”
“Right here,” I assure him, placing my hand in his. “How are you doing, Ryan?”
“Confused,” he says with a slurred whisper. “Everything’s blurry.”
I wonder if he means visually blurry or mentally and honestly? It’s probably both.
He voice sounds, literally, awful, like he’s chewed on broken glass, but I’ve never been so happy or relieved in all my life to hear him speaking.
“It’ll get better,” I tell him. “Give it a little time. You’re okay, that’s what matters. Why don’t you go back to sleep? We’ll talk more after you’ve gotten some rest.”
He nods slightly, closing his eyes.
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Neil ends up hanging out with me for hours. He brought a deck of cards, the County Register for me to read, candy bars and a dozen stories about his ex-wives.
He tells me a little about Summer’s mother, how it broke his heart to see his daughter suffering. How he thinks, despite what she says, that she is still deeply troubled from the abandonment.
I tell him a little about Ryan’s own experience with being abandoned by a mother. I don’t reveal too much, just what I think Ryan would be comfortable with and probably between Summer and the Newport gossip mill, it’s information Neal is already aware of.
Kirsten calls with the news that they are booked on a flight for tomorrow night, but she and Seth are going to camp out in the terminal and try and get on an earlier flight as a stand-by.
De Graff stops back in and tells me that Ryan will most likely be zonked out until the middle of the night at the earliest.
He actually uses the word, ‘zonked.’
Neil, the ever consummate professional, looks at DeGraff like he has two heads before recovering and telling me, “You should go lie down, Sandy. I’ll stay for a few more hours with Ryan. It’s my job to harass you into taking care of yourself.”
I glance over at my ailing kid. It seems so wrong to leave the room, especially given my earlier regrets of neglecting Ryan most of this year.
“You’re dead on your feet,” Neil says. “A couple of hours of sleep will make a world of difference. You can be back before Ryan wakes up. If he does surface, I’ll let him know where you are. Believe me, he’s going to barely register you’re absence. He’s still on quite a few powerful drugs.”
I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt, but I stand up and agree to get some sleep.
Neil’s right.
I’m basically useless at this point.
I shuffle to the family waiting lounge, lay down on the couch, and am asleep within minutes.
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I wake up to the sound of a kid yelling.
For a second, I think I’m dreaming. Then I crack open an eye and see two little boys, one sandy blond, one black haired, chasing each other around the room.
A woman enters, looking frazzled, and chastises the two boys to settle down. She spots me and apologizes.
“I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, sitting up and checking my cell to see what time it is.
My display says 9:15 p.m. and I panic.
I slept nearly four hours.
I find the nearest bathroom and then practically sprint to Ryan’s room.
God, how could I sleep that long? I’m a horrible father.
The door to the CCU room is open halfway and I slow down enough to enter it without making too much noise.
The familiar beeping of all the machines greets me, but one again, I’m so thankfully that there is no more whooshing of the ventilator. The lack of that constant, repetitive sound makes going into the room a whole lot less intimidating.
“Hey,” Neil says, standing up from the recliner. “You look better.”
I find that very much a lie.
I’ll be happy if I just don’t smell. It’s been over a full day since I got a shower or changed clothes.
“How is he?” I ask, walking further into the room. “I can’t believe how long I was away.”
“He’s about the same as when you left,” Neil answers, now fully upright. “He woke a couple of times, when the nurse was taking vitals, but other than that he’s been fast asleep.”
“Did he ask where I was?”
Neil shakes his head.
“To be honest, Sandy, I don’t think he actually fully woke up. His eyes just opened for a second or two.”
I rub my fingers over my ever growing stubble, keeping my eyes on Ryan and try and shake the exhaustion that is still lingering despite my nap.
He looks peaceful, the oxygen mask misting up with each breath he takes.
I would have never guessed I would be thrilled by simply seeing one of my kids breathe and yes, his breathing appears to still be labored, taking more effort than it should be, but at least he’s breathing on his own.
And I’m so very, very thankful for that.
I reach out and feel his forehead.
“102.8,” Neil informs me. “At least that what it was a half-hour ago. He might be fighting a secondary infection. Dr. De Graff ordered a new series of blood gases. They already took chest x-rays.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. “Does that mean the septicemia might be returning?”
Oh God, I can’t handle that.
Ryan’s body can’t handle that.
“No,” Neil says assuring, “Not at all. It could be a bug he picked up here at the hospital or possibly pneumonia. I know, after everything he’s been through, this is the last thing you want to hear. But unfortunately, it wouldn’t be surprising. It’ll set back his recovery a few days, but I don’t foresee things ever getting as bad as they have been with the septic shock.”
It’s such a blessing to have Neil here with Ryan and me. He’s a safe port in this insane storm. His constant reassurances go a long way.
Neil smiles and laughs slightly. “Summer called. She wants in. I told her no.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “I told Seth I didn’t want Ryan having any visitors until at least tomorrow. Probably two days.”
Neil nods. “I don’t blame you. I’m surprised you let Summer in the room earlier.”
“She brought pastrami,” I tell him lowering my head and feeling guilt because I sold my kid out for a sandwich.
“Yeah,” Neil concurs. “She pulls that kinda’ stuff on me all the time.”
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To be continued in chapter fourteen, which is posted.