Heart Block (33 page)

“The next twenty-four hours will be critical.” Sarah felt her breath catch as the blood drained from her face. The doctor took her hand. “What that means is that we need to give Grace’s brain a chance to rest so it can heal, and we need to put her into a deep sleep so that can happen. She’ll be unconscious for the next day or so, but if we can get the swelling down in the next twenty-four hours, her chance of a full recovery is high.”

Sarah couldn’t think clearly. This wasn’t part of the plan. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “And if the swelling doesn’t go down? What then?”

“That’s harder.” The doctor squeezed her hand. “If the pressure doesn’t go down, or worse, it goes up, Grace could face the effects of brain damage or—”

“She could die?”

“She could. It’s a worst-case scenario, but I need to be honest with you. Let’s just focus on these next twenty-four hours and getting her well.”

*

Sarah sat mutely in the waiting room. Her mind kept replaying the sequence of events on some unstoppable loop. Her memory of the accident alternated between horrifyingly vivid and frustratingly blank. The small window across the room that offered a peak at the real world, the world Sarah could hardly believe still existed, showed signs of dusk falling. The clock couldn’t turn quickly enough.

Her brothers checked in hourly, but at her insistence stayed home with their families awaiting word. Carmen offered her encouragement, clearly doing everything a best friend should do, but Sarah couldn’t find it within herself to say much back. Because really there was nothing to say. Instead, she stared at the sterile double doors that led to Grace.

Visiting hours in the intensive care unit were monitored strictly, and Sarah was allowed inside Grace’s hospital room for twenty minutes each hour. She sat with Grace, who was covered with blankets and tubes, and looking so incredibly small that it about broke her heart in half.

“You’re going to be okay, baby,” she’d whispered, “I’m right here with you. I’m here, Graciela,” as she held her lifeless hand.

In the hallway, the doctors murmured in somber tones to one another, but inside, Sarah stroked Grace’s cheek softly, telling her one of her favorite stories, the tortoise and the hare. In the deep recesses of her mind, Sarah recognized with shocking horror, that her beautiful, sweet, witty child might never return to who she once was or…worse. God, she couldn’t acknowledge worse, but it hung over her in this endless nightmare.

“Sarah, you need to eat something,” Carmen prodded her once she returned to the hellish waiting room. “You’ve been here all day. Did you even eat breakfast this morning before…?”

Sarah cut her eyes to Carmen and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m not in a hospital bed.”

“Still, I think—”

“I said I’m fine.”

Carmen nodded resolutely.

Time crawled by.

Coffee cups came and went.

The fluorescent lighting in the grim waiting room spared no detail of her family’s fear-stricken faces. Her mother thumbed through a battered magazine from the rickety coffee table. Carmen scanned her phone. All the while Sarah watched the hours tick by with excruciating delay.

Finally, her father stood. “Why don’t I go pick up dinner for everyone?”

“Nothing for me,” Sarah said. “You guys go ahead.” Her eyes settled resolutely back on the set of double doors.

Carmen joined him. “I should update your brothers. Can I use your phone, Sarah? My battery is all but gone.”

Sarah nodded and handed her the phone. Carmen exited the waiting room with her father, leaving Sarah alone with her mother. She took advantage of the private moment. “Mama, why did this happen? She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” her mother said. “You don’t either. No one does. God doesn’t work that way. But here we are and we have to be strong for that little fighter in there, do you understand me? She needs you now.”

“I’m trying, Mama, but I feel like I’m about to cave in. I can’t seem to find the strength. I feel like crying, but I can’t do that either. I don’t think I can handle this on my own. I need help, but I don’t know where to get it.”

Her mother scooted in closer and wrapped her arm tightly around Sarah and spoke to her quietly. “This may surprise you, but do you know what helps me in dark times? Prayer. I haven’t raised you in the church because that’s not how I was raised, but in difficult moments, I turn to a higher power. There’s a chapel down the hall. Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. If I do decide to go, I think it’s something I need to do on my own.”

By midnight, there was no real change in Grace’s condition, but at least the swelling hadn’t increased. She found herself in a difficult place and thought hard on it. Her mother was right. She wasn’t a very religious person. She’d only been to church a handful of times in her life, mostly on Christmas, and even then it was kind of a formality. But she believed in God. She did.

The hospital chapel was surprisingly small with only four pews and a center aisle leading up to a modest altar. Above the altar hung a large stained-glass window depicting two white doves in flight. Sarah took in the image before her, struck by its beauty. There was something about the quiet of the room that she found comforting.

She glanced around, feeling unsure and not knowing exactly how to proceed. Finally, she decided to do what felt natural. She knelt before the altar, bowed her head, and took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing
. “So I know I haven’t been in touch in a while, and I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know how else to say this, but I really need you today and so does my daughter, Grace.” She felt her voice catch and choked back emotion. “She’s only eight years old and not doing so well. Please help her through this. I don’t think I’d survive if anything were to happen to her. She’s my life. And lastly, God, I ask you to send me the strength I need to get through this and to give my daughter the support she needs right now. Please send me the strength and I will receive it. Amen.”

Sarah raised her eyes and stared silently at the white doves for another few moments when a feeling of calm slowly and inexplicably crept over her. She couldn’t identify precisely its source, but she could detect a noticeable change in her resolve. She stood slowly and turned. The figure standing at the entrance to the chapel was dimly lit but unmistakable. Sarah didn’t hesitate. She moved to Emory and fell into her arms as a burst of tears sprang from somewhere deep within her. Emory held her for several long moments as she cried.

“I would have been here sooner, but I had a long drive. I came as soon as I heard.”

“How did you—”

“Carmen called me from your phone a few hours ago. Grace is going to come through. Know that.”

Sarah nodded, the tears falling freely now, as she clung to Emory and buried her face in her neck. Emory was here and she would help her through this. Emory would be her strength. No matter what had transpired between them, that much she knew.

They walked slowly back to the intensive care, Sarah filling Emory in on all that had happened. Emory greeted her parents and accepted a hug from Carmen. She sat next to Sarah and held her hand, not saying much of anything, seeming to know that was exactly what Sarah needed.

*

It was four a.m. and time for another visiting session. Thus far, Emory had stayed back in the waiting area with Carmen while Sarah and her parents cycled in and out sitting with Grace. She would never want to intrude upon the family’s space in any way, but when Sarah stood and held out her hand to Emory, she hesitated, glancing around the room, her throat tight. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take any time away from anyone.”

“She’d want you here,” Sarah said simply.

Emory nodded and allowed herself to be led through the doors and down the hall. The sounds of machines hit her first. The steady sighs and beeps of the various devices hooked up to Grace took her back to the last time she’d been at the hospital, when her mother had passed. She measured her emotional response, determined not to upset Sarah in any way and willed herself to hold it together.

Pushing past that initial hesitation, she entered the room behind Sarah, who moved to the far side of the bed and looked back at her encouragingly. “You can sit with her if you like.”

Emory nodded, sitting in the small chair next to Grace and taking her hand in hers. It was so much smaller in comparison.

There was so much she wanted to say to Grace, and while it felt strange to talk to her this way, she knew this wasn’t the time to hold back. “Hey there, kiddo, I’ve missed you. Looks like you’ve taken creativity to new heights finding ways to get out of school.” She glanced up nervously at Sarah before refocusing her efforts. “Listen, I wanted to tell you something. I’ve been using those brushes you gave me…a lot actually…and I think you’d really like some of the painting I’ve done. Surprisingly, it’s not half bad. But you know what the interesting thing is, Grace? If I hadn’t met you, I don’t think I ever would have painted again, one of the things I love most in this world. That makes you very, very special to me. So this is what I need from you. Are you listening?” She moved closer so that she was very close to Grace’s ear. “I need you to rest up and get lots better so that I can show you my work, the work that you made happen. Maybe we can even paint together sometime if your mom says it’s okay. Sound good?” Emory looked up just in time to see Sarah who was staring at her so intently, with such emotion, that she almost couldn’t breathe.

“She’s missed you too,” Sarah whispered. “You should know that.”

Emory nodded, fighting against the lump in the back of her throat. She’d allowed herself to believe that Sarah and Grace had easily returned to their life without her, but sitting here now and looking into Sarah’s eyes, she knew that wasn’t true. She had been important to them, and even though that hadn’t felt like enough a short time ago, it was everything now. “I’ll let you guys have some time.” She leaned down and kissed Grace’s cheek ever so gently and gave Sarah’s hand a supportive squeeze across the bed.

Sunlight dipped its glow through the window of the intensive care waiting room three hours later. Sarah sat next to Emory, who still held her hand loosely. They hadn’t spoken many words to each other, but Sarah knew it was Emory’s presence alone that kept her from climbing the walls of the hospital in utter insanity.

It was then that Dr. Riggs arrived in the waiting room, bringing everyone to full attention in anticipation of any sort of news. Sarah stood and moved to the doctor, who wasted no time informing them of what she knew.

“The news is good. The swelling is down, and all is looking very encouraging. That is one very lucky girl you have in there.”

“She’s going to be okay?” Sarah’s heart hammered away in her chest.

“We’ll want to keep her here for a couple of days to make sure there are no complications, but if we stay the course, I anticipate a full recovery. Dr. Thorpe will want to take this opportunity to implant a pacemaker to prevent any further fallout from her heart block, but I’ll let him discuss that with you in more detail. Our plan is to keep her sedated until this evening just to be cautious. In the meantime, take advantage of this time. Go home and get a nap and a change of clothes. You’ve been awake for close to two days straight, and pretty soon you’re not going to be much good to anyone. You’ll want to be refreshed when she wakes up tonight.”

Sarah couldn’t imagine leaving Grace alone at the hospital. She shook her head to protest, but her mother placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Listen to the doctor, mija. I’ll stay with her and call with any change. We can take turns. Do you want your father to drive you?”

Sarah turned to Emory, questioning.

Emory nodded once. “I’ll take her.”

*

The apartment felt different to Sarah once they were inside, hollow and lonely somehow without Grace. Not really her own. Emory was in the kitchen now, she registered, but she hadn’t been able to move past the entryway. She just stood there, not knowing what to do with herself.

“Sarah?”

“Hmm?” She glanced absently at Emory.

“Why don’t you go grab a quick shower and I’ll make you something to eat?”

“I don’t think I can—”

Emory shook her head, but her voice was gentle. “Not up for discussion.”

Sarah nodded wordlessly, grateful for the direction.

She practically groaned with relief just minutes later when the healing hot water hit her body. She lathered her hair and closed her eyes, allowing the water’s soft caress to work its magic. They’d all been right. She wouldn’t have made it much longer without some sort of reinforcement. She would do this and get right back to the hospital.

When she emerged from the bathroom in her towel, there was a set of clothes laid out for her on the bed. She sent up a silent thank-you for another decision she didn’t have to make. She dressed quickly, taking note of the sizzles and sighs emanating from the kitchen. Her stomach, despite her mind’s protestations, growled in response to the wonderful aroma of frying bacon.

With her hair still wet, Sarah padded into the kitchen and sat at the table. She didn’t fully imagine she could eat, but Emory went to the trouble so the least she could do was act appreciative. “What do you have going in here?”

“Order up.” Emory placed a BLT in front of Sarah, complete with a side of cantaloupe. Sarah contemplated the sandwich for a moment, which prompted Emory to nudge the plate just a tad bit closer. “Eat.”

She looked up at Emory and dutifully took a small bite, which just about prompted her collapse. “Wow.”

“I took the liberty of raiding your fridge. Bacon is happy food, and we were given some happy news this morning, remember? Grace is going to be okay. I know it’s been a rough time, but I need you to remind yourself of that.”

Sarah nodded and exhaled. “She’s going to be okay. And that is good news, it’s just, I feel like I haven’t quite woken up from it all yet. Not until she’s home and herself again am I going to be able to breathe.”

Emory smoothed the back of Sarah’s hair. “She will be soon. But the first step is a little nourishment followed by some rest. Trust me, please?”