Chapter 8 Daisy
Bull was in his element when he arrived home.
He was covered in children, including little Dylan.
They all begged to sit on their dad’s shoulders and each got their turn and their fair share of attention.
I don’t think I’d ever seen him smile in the old days, but these days his smile seemed to not leave his face, except when he realised Dylan was here, and that I knew who his father was.
Even then, the frown was fleeting once he realised I was okay, and a grin was soon parting his beard as he played with the kids.
* * *
In the morning, I dressed as casually as I could and drove to the hospital, where Janie said Dad was.
It was disconcerting walking in. I looked down the hall to where maternity was located and felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
That was where my life changed. I understood the decisions made that day now, in a more clinical way.
But I still felt like I needed to avoid that area.
I looked away and walked to the general ward and asked for my father by name.
Mom was sitting with Dad, going through some paperwork, when the nurse let me into the room. He was hooked up to an oxygen line through the nasal prongs and had the monitoring patches attached.
They both looked at me with expectation, as if they were waiting for me to introduce myself. I didn’t think I had changed that much in 4 years, but maybe I had.
My Mom was the first to recognize me. She gasped and Dad looked at her.
“Daisy?” She reached for me as I nodded. “You’re back!”
I hugged her.
“Hey Mom,” I greeted her with tears in my eyes. I admit it, I missed her, and Dad. I released her and went to hug Dad. He gripped me weakly.
“Oh my baby girl,” he wheezed.
I stood back and held his hand, looking over him, noting the vital signs showing that Janie had underestimated how sick he was.
“Where have you been?” he asked, his eyes shining. “It’s been four years!”
I sighed and dodged the underlying question. “I’ve been doing well, I’m working in a great job in the city.”
I watched the base of his throat pulsate as he tried to get more oxygen.
“Okay Dad, deep breaths, slow your breathing.” The professional training kicked in as I demonstrated, breathing with him.
“Good,” I murmured. ”Now I’m here, what’s this hospital visit for?”
“Oh, your father just had a turn, a bit of trouble breathing. He’ll be back home soon,” mom tried to reassure me. I hummed as I looked at him. It was not just a bit of trouble breathing. He was on the verge of gasping for air with every breath, even with the nasal prongs.
“Oh it is so good you’re back. Blaze always said you wouldn’t stay away forever, although I’ll admit I had my worries.
But it’s good to be wrong. Is he coming soon with Dylan?
” Mom couldn’t seem to stop talking in excitement.
I shifted my hand and held Dad’s wrist lightly, feeling how strong the pulse was.
“Pardon?” I asked
“Is Blaze coming over soon? Oh what did he say about your hair? He so loved it long…never mind, you can grow it again.”
My eyes squinted involuntarily.
“Sorry?” I asked again.
Dad noticed something was not right.
“Molly,” he soothed, “let the girl speak.”
“No, I’m good, I’m just not understanding things. Why are we talking about Blaze, Mom?” I took in the numbers on the monitors. They weren’t good at all.
“Well, you’re back because of Blaze, aren’t you? He found you, didn’t he?” mom started.
I shook my head. “No, someone else told me you were here. I haven’t spoken to Blaze in 4 years…and I kinda want to keep it that way.”
Mom looked horrified. “But he’s your husband, Daisy!”
“He certainly didn’t act like it 4 years ago. But let’s leave this for another day.” I was watching Dad’s heart rate speed up, and it looked like his blood pressure was concerning as well.
It was time for some hard truths.
“Dad, I work at a hospital, I know how to read a patient’s stats. I’m giving you a chance to tell me the truth. What have the doctors said about you?”
Dad tried to shift his face from me.
“My lungs are just playing up, Baby Girl. I’ll be fine.” He tried to pacify me again. I pulled out the ballbreaker nurse’s voice.
“That’s not the truth, and I’ll ask again.”
He shifted in his bed and looked at Mom.
“Honey, let’s not talk about that,” she started. I turned my head to her.
“Do you know how serious this is?” I asked her.
“Oh, the doctors are just overreacting.” She shuffled over and stroked Dad’s arm.
I shook my head. “Doctors don’t overreact with late stage COPD, Mom.”
I regretted not packing my stethoscope, so I leaned over and put my head on Dad’s chest to listen to his breathing. I could hear the air struggling to get through the phlegm.
Mom took my movement a whole different way.
“Oh honey, he’s not dying…he’ll be fine before the weekend,” she assured me.
I slowly sat up. “What’s happening on the weekend?” I asked innocently.
“Well, Blaze’s birthday party of course. There’s a BBQ at the clubhouse. I’m going to cook that three bean casserole that he likes.”
I closed my eyes in frustration. “Why are you doing that, Mom?”
“Why what?” she asked.
“You must have realised that I left because of him. You lost your grandson because of him.”
“Well, uh,” she stammered.
“Mom, the man cheated on me for years, two of which we were married. He’s the cause of your grandson’s death, because if he’d turned up when I called him, Baby James would still be alive.
” I was getting angry. ”In fact, the only reason he and I are still technically married is because I don’t want to talk to him to get a divorce organized, and I haven’t had the spare money to involve a lawyer! ”
The alarms from the monitors shook me out of my rage. I turned back and dealt with Dad, calming him and adjusting his airflow rate before the nurses managed to arrive. His nurse gave me an appreciative side eye as she checked him over.
“When does the doctor do his rounds?” I asked her.
She told me. I turned back to Mom. “I need a moment. I’ll be back soon.”
The nurse followed me out. “You did well in there. You know what you’re doing?” she asked as soon as the door shut.
I chuckled. “I’m pretty confident.” I smiled and walked outside. I needed a moment to get my emotions under control. No one might accept it, but Janie was right. Dad was dying and Mom didn’t care enough to believe it.