Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-five
“You called him cantankerous?” Win’s giddy smile spreads as she smothers a bagel in cream cheese. “What does that even mean?”
“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. It’s one of those words that just feels cathartic to use…. Try it.”
“Cantankerous,” she says, then takes a hefty bite. “ Cwan-tan-kros, ” she repeats, her mouth full.
“It feels good, right?”
She swallows. “It really does, I’m gonna add it to my repertoire.” She licks her lips, then stares over my shoulder absently. “So, what now? Are we fighting with Chellie? Do you need me to—”
“I don’t care,” I say flippantly, then take a long sip of coffee. “I don’t care what Cyrus or Chellie have to say about me or say to me…And that is so freeing and long overdue.”
“Fuck yeah,” Win whispers, mindful of the other families in the lounge. “Okay, so, we’re playing it cool, I guess.”
“I mean, other than the fact that my husband is in the ICU, yeah. Cool as a cucumber.”
“Right,” Win whispers, wincing. “Other than that.”
I check the time on my phone and realize we should be heading back soon, to be at least ten minutes early for Caleb’s expected return. I’m not taking any chances. First, I fetch Chellie a chamomile tea and I even double-cup it to be sure to not melt her ice-cold exterior. I am sticking up for myself, sure, but I’m not a total bitch.
“Are you sure you had enough to eat?” Win asks as we scan our visitor passes and wait for the ICU doors to open.
I smile at her softly. “Yes, thank you, Mom.”
“Hey, it comes with the territory now.”
“Are you sure Gus is okay without you for the day?”
“Gus is totally oblivious and living her best life in a hotel robe as we speak.” She shows me a picture while we continue walking down the hallway toward Caleb’s room. In the photo, August is sitting in the middle of a huge bed, drowning in an adult-sized white robe, a cup of milk in her lap as she watches cartoons on the hotel’s flatscreen.
It helps to know that at least one of us is totally okay. “She was born to live a lavish lifestyle,” I tell my best friend.
“Yeah, well, she better not get used to it. Her parents might be broke soon. We’ve poured so much money into the camp and apparently—” Win cuts herself off. “Sorry, not important. Not now.”
“Later?” I ask, as I reach out for the sliding glass door.
“Yeah,” Win agrees.
—
An hour later, Caleb’s still not back from his CT scan. Chellie is glued to her phone, silently playing solitaire. When I returned with her tea, she took it with a quick nod of appreciation, but I haven’t seen her eyes since.
Win and I snuggled up under the hospital blankets on the cot next to the window. Win suggested that I read to take my mind off things, but I’ve recently discovered—as in, today—that there are some things a good book cannot fix. At least not now, when everything feels as if it’s hanging in the balance.
So, instead, we talk about Gus, as she seems to be the only entirely safe topic of conversation right now. I tease Win about giving me another niece or nephew, and she remains adamant that the camp has to be successful before she’ll consider it, much to Bo’s chagrin.
“Bo is persistent, I’ll give him that.”
Win leans in close to whisper, giggling. “I swear to god, I might have to hide my birth control pills from him or they’ll go missing.”
“It’s not like you and the pill have an excellent track record regardless,” I tease.
“That was before I knew how fertile I was!”
“You always underestimate yourself,” I say, feigning sincerity. “But I’m team Bo on this one. More babies!”
“Yeah, because you get to snuggle, play, and ditch.”
“Exactly. I—” I’m interrupted as the door slides open, and the same two nurses begin to wheel Caleb back inside. Behind them is a doctor I’ve yet to meet, but I suppose Dr. Wenarchuk has ended her shift by now.
“Hello, ladies,” the new doctor says, her voice as peppy as her beaming smile. She shuts the door and then uses the wall dispenser of hand sanitizer to clean her hands. “I’m Doctor Ofori.” She bypasses Chellie and extends her hand to me. I don’t have time to stand before she reaches me, so I remain sitting. She shakes Win’s hand, and then turns over her shoulder. “Why don’t you come sit over here with us, my friend.”
Win attempts to hide her grin. Chellie isn’t exactly the my friend type. But she stands and begins sliding her chair over toward us as the nurses make quick work of getting Caleb situated. Dr. Ofori sits in the chair across from the cot and smiles sweetly as we wait for Chellie to settle into her seat. “Wonderful,” she says brightly. “Well, today my job is nice and easy. I get to take over Doctor Wenarchuk’s case and immediately deliver some good news.”
Win grasps my knee over the blanket. I clutch her hand in response and squeeze.
“Caleb’s CT scan shows signs of a concussion but no further trauma. The swelling that his team was worried about yesterday has greatly improved and I don’t see any other reasons to keep him sedated any longer. His injury is mild enough that we believe he can heal just as well awake.”
“Isn’t it a bit soon?” Chellie clutches her literal pearls.
The doctor turns toward her, her genuine smile never fading. “Keeping patients with mild traumatic brain injuries sedated for longer periods of time has been shown to decrease cognitive function when they do wake up and prolong the side effects of a concussion. I know my colleagues were concerned yesterday as he had lost consciousness a few times, but between us,” she leans in closer toward Win and me, “men tend to do that.” She sits back in her chair, grinning.
“Could we get a second opinion?” Chellie asks.
“Oh, absolutely. I went ahead and called in a neuro consult while we still had Caleb downstairs and my colleague agreed that we should start working on getting him off of all this machinery.” She waves her hand flippantly toward the medical equipment and folds one knee over the other, her full focus set on me. “We’d like to wean him off the sedative and remove his breathing tube, so he can start breathing on his own. Do you have any questions?”
“How long will it take for him to wake up?” I ask, blinking back tears.
“Times can vary from patient to patient. It’s hard to know for sure. We like to say that waking up in the ICU is less like turning on a light switch and more like waiting for the sun to rise. Some patients can take just a few hours whereas others take a day, or even more. But given that he hasn’t been sedated for very long and that he’s in good health otherwise—I suspect he’ll be on the shorter end of the spectrum.”
“That’s good!” Win says, shaking my leg with a talon-like grip on my knee. “This is good, ” she repeats, moving to hug me.
I’m in shock. At least, I think this is what being in shock feels like. I can’t seem to speak, or think, or find anything to worry about—which must mean something is wrong. But I can sense it…the happiness and relief waiting to burst free like the contents of a pinata on its last strike. “A-and…he’ll be okay? Like, he’s going to wake up and—”
“We see no indications of any major, long-term side effects. Often our head-injury patients can wake up a little agitated, or groggy, or a little bit confused. That is totally normal and is almost always temporary.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Okay,” I say once more.
“Any other questions?” She turns to Win and Chellie, who both shake their heads. “Brilliant, I’ll get the anesthesia team in here, then. I will have to ask you all to leave for a few minutes while we get started and remove his endotracheal tube. Have you already given the nursing station your cellphone number?” I nod. “Great, they’ll give you a call when you can come back.”
“Okay…” I look over her shoulder toward Caleb, holding my eyes on him. I hate having to leave. I don’t want to leave him. I promised him that I wouldn’t.
Dr. Ofori’s eyes scan mine. “I’ll give you some time to say a quick goodbye. I promise he’s in good hands.” She moves to stand. “If you have any questions or want to check in while you’re waiting, feel free to call me.” She hands me a business card with the hospital’s number and her personal extension. “It shouldn’t take too long. Promise.”
“Thank you,” Win says on my behalf as I take the card and stare blankly at it while the doctor makes a quick exit.
Chellie stands and moves over to Caleb’s bedside as Dr. Ofori quietly chats with the nurses in the hall outside of the door.
“You okay?” Win asks me quietly.
“Yeah.” A smile bursts from me, alongside an onslaught of tears. “He’s going to be okay,” I say, sputtering through sobs. She pulls me into a tight hug, and we both laugh in joyful disbelief.
“I’ll see you both this afternoon,” Chellie says sharply, picking her handbag off the floor. “I’m going to go back to the hotel and come back around supper time. Please call me if anything changes before then.”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, wiping tears away with both hands. Chellie moves to make a speedy exit but I’m faster, tossing the blankets off my lap and jumping off the cot. “Chellie, wait.” She turns, and we nearly collide. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her gingerly—like an animal I don’t want to spook. It takes her a moment, but she eventually relaxes into my hold and hugs me back. “He’s going to be okay,” I whisper to her, gratitude lighting up every syllable.
There is a weighted pause where neither of us moves or speaks. As I begin to wonder if we’ve been hugging for too long, Chellie sighs contentedly.
“He is,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. She sniffs once, straightens her posture as we drop our hands, and wipes a single tear away before departing the room without another word.
Thirty minutes after leaving the hospital
The hotel is exactly 1.2 kilometers away. After hiking all week, the walk felt like nothing physically, but emotionally, it took its toll. I hate being away from Caleb. He seems so vulnerable, lying there unknowingly available to be poked and prodded and cared for. When we get to the hotel, Bo and Gus are still out having fun. We decide to order room service and watch a little bit of cable TV.
Ninety minutes after leaving the hospital
One partial episode of Jerry Springer, a giant burger and fries, and two episodes of Judge Judy later—my phone rings. They’re ready for us to come back. We don’t even wait to hear if Lola is going to owe Michael the two hundred dollars for breaking down his door before we grab our shit and head back to the hospital.
One minute back inside the hospital
I text the group chat that Win made last night from the hospital’s lobby. It’s easier this way to update everyone at once. Quickly, it became thumbs-up responses from Cora and Cyrus, sharp and brief responses from Chellie, and long-drawn-out replies from my aunt June who cannot resist sharing the infinite wisdom from her current boyfriend who had a concussion nearly two decades ago and is therefore an expert on the matter at hand.
Win, Bo, and I are still texting in our regular group chat that also includes Caleb. Bo keeps giving him a hard time for not responding—which makes me feel a bit lighter. Soon, Caleb will be in on the joke too. Soon, he’ll see how much we were all losing our minds without him.
Eleven minutes back inside the hospital
I never thought I’d feel relieved to be back in the ICU, but I most certainly am.
“It all went very smoothly,” a nurse says as she continues to wheel out equipment from Caleb’s room. “He’s breathing on his own as we’d expected, but we’ve put in the cannula just in case he needs a little bit of support later on.” She stops, looking at the heart rate and blood pressure monitor. “But so far, he’s doing great.”
After I kissed Caleb’s cheek, marveled at his now-more-visible, gorgeous face, and readjusted his blankets, we got settled back into the room. Win went to grab us ice chips from the machine down the hall and diet Cokes from the family lounge. When she got back, we turned the television in his room on, hoping to catch some more daytime television as we wait.
Two hours back inside the hospital
Caleb is still sleeping, but he’s been stirring every so often for the past thirty minutes. I’ve moved my chair as close as I can get to his bed, and I’m mindlessly stroking his arm while we watch Family Feud .
Four hours back inside the hospital
Chellie came back earlier than she’d told us she would. I think that was partially because I began informing the group chat, perhaps a touch overeagerly, every time Caleb moaned, groaned, or moved his fingers.
Still, the nurses are very optimistic it will be any minute. Until then, Chellie has gotten acquainted with The Jerry Springer Show. Which, I have to say, feels like a win.
“Of course he’s not the father,” she says calmly, sipping on her second chamomile tea. “That baby looks nothing like him.”
“She totally cheated,” Win says, shaking her head.
“I don’t know,” I say. “They do have the same chin…”
Five hours back inside the hospital
Win kept joking that Caleb was going to wake up the moment I went to pee. Therefore, I have never peed so fast in my life. Honestly, I didn’t wipe. I did a little jiggle of my business and then ran to quickly wash my hands. I grabbed sanitizer at every doorway, it is a hospital after all, plus the doors take so long to open I had to do something other than just stand there.
Even though it would have sucked to miss the moment Caleb woke up—I was a little disappointed that Win’s superstitions failed. He was still asleep when I returned.
I forced Win to leave and use the washroom, just in case she was half right. But still, nothing.
I’m starting to worry again. I can feel it rolling in like an oncoming storm—not quite panicking just yet but hyperaware that it’s approaching. Maybe they missed something. Maybe my husband’s beautiful, genius brain needed more time before they attempted to wake him up. Maybe we were all too eager. Too quick to hope.
“Nothing?” Win asks me when she returns from the bathroom.
“Nope.”
“I’ll try,” Chellie says, surprising us both as she stands to leave.
Win studies me, tilting her head as her brows knit together. “You okay?”
I shake my head as tears spring loose and I shut off the television. She holds me as I fall apart again.
Eight hours back inside the hospital
“No, darling, he’s still asleep. Yes, I’ll tell Sarah you send your best. I’m glad you made your flight in time. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you too.” Chellie lays down the phone.
Win and I nearly break our necks with the speed in which we turn toward each other.
I did that. I made Cyrus Linwood do the right thing.
Nine hours, eight minutes, and eleven seconds back inside the hospital
“Baby?” A hoarse voice whispers.
“Caleb,” I say, all the breath leaving my lungs at once as I rise out of my chair. Unadulterated relief fills my body like helium in a balloon, lifting me toward my husband. “Hi, love. Hi.” I kiss his shoulder and rest my head there. “How are you feeling?” I move away when he coughs, scanning him over with concern.
“Hey.” His eyes open softly as he frowns in discomfort. “My throat…”
“Here,” Chellie says, appearing at his side. She lifts a cup of water off the side table and helps him find the straw. He takes a long sip, then another.
Win moves to stand beside me, her hand next to mine on the railing of the bed.
“Mom?” Caleb blinks at her, visibly confused.
“Hello, darling.”
He turns back toward me, slowly but as fast as I think he can manage right now. Even after waking up from his induced fugue state his facial expression is clear. Things must have been bad for you to have called my mother.
“You had us really worried.” I brush my hand along his chin. That is when Caleb spots Win and his eyes widen even more as he turns toward her.
“Wow,” he says, then coughs again. Win takes the cup from Chellie and offers Caleb the straw for him to take another sip. “I feel pretty special right now.”
I notice a nurse standing in the hall, watching the monitors closely through the window. She gives me a smile and waves. “You are special,” I tell him, tears collecting along my lash line. “So, so special.”
“Baby, don’t cry,” he says, moving his arm without the IV to place his hand on top of mine. All his movements are sluggish and seem to take a lot of effort. But he’s moving. He’s talking. He’s come back to me.
“I’m happy,” I tell him as a few hospital staff enter the room and stand against the wall, making their presence known but allowing us a few more moments. “I missed you so damn much.”
“I’m right here.”
“I know but you scared us. I love you. I love you a truly stupid amount.”
“I love you too, baby,” he whispers back to me, a sleepy smile pulling at his lips.
“We should let these fine people look you over,” Chellie says, smiling warmly at me. “Then we’re going to discuss what on earth possessed you to walk out onto a dilapidated bridge.” She raises a brow toward her son.
“Don’t go far,” he says, tightening his weakened hold on my hand.
“We’ll just be outside.” I kiss him briefly on the lips and then move out of the nurses’ way into the hall. Win wraps her arms around me from behind, nearly knocking me over with her enthusiasm.
“He’s okay,” she says. “Well, he’s still Caleb….”
I giggle, joy flooding my system as my shoulders relax. I watch as Chellie turns back toward us from down the hall and smiles again— which has to be some sort of record. “C’mon…I need a stiff drink.”
“It’s a hospital,” Win argues, following me.
“A coffee, then.” I smile to myself, simply because I cannot seem to stop.