Chapter 32 The Cold Hand of Grief #2
Nodding, I shift so I’m not twisted so sharply, but I don’t try to move away just yet, still not ready to face whatever comes next.
“That fucking hurt,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, and Declan chuckles then responds, “Aye it does. Like ripping your own guts out and then trying to shove them back in the same way they were before.”
A laugh breaks free and then I cough, shake my head, grateful for a moment of levity. We fall into an easy silence, likely making an odd picture for anyone who might happen along. I laugh again and then pull back as I say, “Can you imagine the headline if the pap got a picture of us like this?”
Declan laughs, too, releasing me slowly, making sure I’m good before dropping his hands. He pulls a small pack of tissues from his jacket pocket, hands it to me. “That would be funny. I bet it’d sell a lot of magazines, too.”
Pulling a tissue from the pack, I hand it back to him then wipe at my face before blowing my nose. Then I lean back against the wall and ask, “You start carrying tissues in your pocket when you got married?”
He snorts, waves a hand at me. “Yes, but not because Issa’s a crybaby or anything.”
“No,” I respond slyly, knowing he’s the crybaby in their marriage. “She got allergies then?”
He gives me a look then retorts, “Nothing will make you feel more deeply than the love of your soulmate.”
I smile. “Awww…that’s nice.”
Delan rolls his eyes. “Tease all you want, Ren. But truly loving someone else is living with the constant worry that something will happen to them. The crushing fear that there’s even a tiny possibility that you may have to live without them someday.”
“You cry about borrowed trouble from the future?”
Sighing he turns his gaze back to me. “Nah. I cry from the joy of the here and now.”
He doesn’t give me time to respond. He gets to his feet, then offers me a hand which I gratefully take, allowing him to pull me up until I’m standing beside him. He holds onto my hand for a few moments, searching my gaze until he sees whatever he was looking for, and then he releases me.
Stepping back, he motions for me to precede him back toward the hospital entrance, then he follows behind.
Everyone is where I left them, in varying states of stress seated in the waiting room.
I sit next to my mother, and Declan sits on my other side.
Placing my arms on the armrests where the chairs touch, I take deep breath, willing myself to keep my shit together.
Declan rests his forearm over the top of mine, his palm pressed into the back of my hand. He doesn’t look at me or make a thing out of it, just sits there, silently supporting me.
And then we wait.
A couple hours later, the doors open again, revealing a woman in green scrubs. “Mr. Rafferty?”
“I’m here.” I jump to my feet, already halfway across the room before she locates me.
“I’m Dr. Madelyn Ball,” she states, motioning for me to enter a side room. “I’m the surgeon who worked on your wife, Cassidy.”
I pause in the doorway, gesturing for my parents to join me. They both sit in the chairs provided, but I stand, ready to come out of my skin to hear how Cassidy is doing.
“The surgery went well?” my mother asks.
Dr. Ball turns to my mother, recognition in her smile as she responds, “Yes, Sylvie. We were able to stop the bleeding and stabilize her.”
Crossing my arms across my chest, I brace myself for the details and then ask, “What happened?”
Dr. Ball turns to me, and replies, “Mrs. Rafferty presented to the emergency department unconscious, vitals erratic, with an active hemorrhage. Sylvie had notified EMS of the early pregnancy, which lead us to finding the ectopic pregnancy and resulting ruptured fallopian tube quickly.
“Unfortunately, the bleeding was too significant for a laparoscopic approach,” Dr. Ball explains. “We ended up making a larger abdominal incision in order to better assess the overall damage to her fallopian tube. Finding the fallopian tube completely ruptured we felt it was safer to remove it.”
“And…” I let my sentence drift off, but my implied question is clear when Dr. Ball’s expression shifts to sympathetic and she adds, “And the embryo with it.”
“But Cassidy is okay?” I whisper, skipping over the pain of the lost pregnancy and focusing on what I can see and hold.
“It will take some time, but she should have a full recovery.”
Wanting to have answers for Cassidy when the time comes, I ask, “And future pregnancies?”
“This shouldn’t affect her future fertility.”
Knowing how important having a child is to Cassidy, a sliver of relief rushes over me. My mother squeezes my hand, some of the worry leaving her features at the news that Cassidy is going to make a full recovery. “Is she awake?”
“She wasn’t when I left the OR,” Dr. Ball replies. “But she’ll start to rouse in the next hour or so.”
“Can I see her?”
“Yes, she’ll be in recovery shortly. One of the nurses will bring you to her while we wait for a bed to be ready.”
Dr. Ball opens the door, takes a step out into the waiting room and raises her hand. “Laura, do you mind bringing Mr. Rafferty to see his wife, please?”
Dr. Ball reaches into her pocket, pulls out a card and then turns back to me, holding it out. “Please feel free to call me if you any questions or concerns. I’m happy to help in any way.”
I take the card, nodding my thanks as Dr. Ball adds, “Laura will take you to Cassidy,” then she takes her leave, disappearing back through the double doors.
The dark-haired nurse from earlier steps into view, still with the tired eyes, though now seems a bit more approachable even as she states, “Just you. We can’t have a bunch of people in recovery.”
My mom scowls, even though I know she already knows the rules. Dad places his hand on her arm, gives her a stern look. “We’ll head to the cafeteria and update the boys.”
“Have Dave update Conrad. And see if you can locate Declan. He had to make a phone call so he’s gonna be pissed he missed meeting the surgeon.”
Laura snorts and says, “Your rock star friend is on the phone with the hospital administrators, securing Mrs. Rafferty’s private room.”
“He’s what?”
Laura turns her amused gaze on me. “He’s been giving those bastards hell for an hour. We’ve been taking turns going out there to listen because screw those guys.”
She continues to chuckle as she leads me through the same door Dr. Ball exited through. “How long have you been a nurse, Laura?”
“Longer than you’ve been a hockey player.”
For some reason her seemingly neutral comment comes out as an insult, but I find myself smiling.
She leads me down corridors, until I’m uncertain if she’s leading me in circles or not.
Eventually, she stops in front of a large wooden door, turns to me and says, “She’s not going to look like herself.
If at any time you feel faint or unwell, just know it’s a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a loved one hurt. ”
Scowling, I nod, motioning for her to get on with it as I mutter, “I got it. Let’s go.”
Laura gives me a stern look then sighs, pushes the door open and steps to the side to allow me access. I walk in fully intent on marching right up to her bedside, but all it takes is one look for my steps to falter along with the stutter of my heart.
Because she doesn’t look like herself.
And I feel faint.
I turn wide eyes to Laura, who’s watching me with concern. I attempt to give her a reassuring smile, but it must not meet my eyes because Laura is across the room in a flash, dragging a chair closer to the bed then grabbing my arm and leading me to it.
I fall into it, mortified that this is my reaction to my wife being hurt, but also completely incapable of faking any kind of bravado or false machismo. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, leaning back in the chair with a long sigh. “I truly didn’t think…”
“It’s okay,” she interjects quietly. “No one truly knows how hard it is until they live it for themselves.”
“Yeah, I absolutely was not prepared.”
‘You can talk to her,” Laura responds. “Hold her hand, let her know you’re here.”
“Will she wake up soon?”
“She should, but she has been through an ordeal, so if it takes a bit more time, it’s not unusual.”
I’m starting to feel better, so I shift forward in the chair, reach for Cassidy’s hand. I look to Laura who’s standing at the end of the bed, watching me closely. “You feel better?”
I nod, adjusting my grip on Cassidy’s hand so I’m holding on tightly. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Someone will let you know when her room is ready,” Laura replies, already headed toward the door, and then she disappears through it without further comment.
I look back at Cassidy, still looking so small in the hospital bed. I’m grateful she has no big tubes attached to her, having a difficult enough time with all the wires and bells and whistles. Click. Beep. Tick.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, holding her hand. After a while she starts to stir, first as if she’s dreaming and then as if she’s trying to force herself out of the dream.
A nurse enters, so I release Cassidy’s hand, scooting back out of the way. She checks the monitors then watches Cassidy for a moment before leaning close to her and whispering, “Cassidy? My name is Kellie, can you look at me?”
Cassidy frowns, moves her head away slightly. Kellie smiles then says, “Just need you to open your eyes for a moment, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
Cassidy slowly opens one eye, then the other, earning a wider smile from Kellie as she asks, “Are you in pain?”
Cassidy shakes her head then closes her eyes, turns her face away. Kellie presses some buttons on the monitor then turns to me. “She may be a little woozy, but she’ll come around quickly now. If you need anything, press the call button. I’ll check back in a bit.”
“Okay, thank you,” I respond. She gives me a small smile then quietly exits, closing the door behind her.