Chapter 5 #2
He unfolded the underwear. It was brand new.
So were the socks. He pulled them on and noted they were just his size.
Not baggy and stained like his old stuff.
He slid into a worn but clean-smelling pair of jeans and a t-shirt, marveling at how clean and fresh he felt.
He was beat, but relieved to have the stench of his home gone.
Next, he wandered downstairs and slumped into a seat at the kitchen table.
Fussing with the silverware, he averted his eyes and fixated on his dinner plate.
It over-flowed with the kind of food he hadn’t tasted since his mom had left years ago.
The aroma of roasted turkey and mashed potatoes with gravy made his mouth water as he waited for Mr. Hendricks to finish the dinner prayer.
Conversation streamed around him as he sat at an unfamiliar table with people he didn’t know.
His meals were usually eaten while he stood at the sink or in his room.
Most nights he went to bed hungry and dirty while his dad sat in the living room, TV blaring and a bottle in his hand.
Mrs. Hendricks picked up her fork and nodded at him to eat. He dug in like a famished wolf.
When Mrs. Hendricks offered more turkey, he glanced around the table and saw Felix scoop up more potatoes and gravy, so he held his plate up. Two heaping plates of food later, he was full—for the first time in... he couldn’t remember how long. He leaned back in his chair, eyes heavy.
“You look tired, dear.” Mrs. Hendricks patted his shoulder. “Go along to bed.”
He nodded and rinsed his dishes before padding up to his shared room. Yawning, Jason slipped into the pajamas the Hendricks had provided and pulled up the surrounding covers. The sheets were clean and soft, and he wrapped them tightly around himself.
He clicked on a small flashlight next to his bed and pulled a yellowed, rumpled piece of paper out of his wallet. The writing was cursive and flowery.
I love you, honey. I’m sorry I had to leave without you. Mom.
Jason had never been able to bolster up the courage to call her before.
His dad had repeatedly told him what he would do if he ever contacted her.
Remembering his last words, goosebumps broke out on his arms. He had to get out of town before his dad got released from jail. His mom was his only hope.
Following the message was a telephone number. First thing in the morning, he would find a phone and call. The social workers had confiscated his cell phone since there was no one to pay the monthly bill.
The clock on the wall of Noah’s ICU room read 2:15 a.m. Ashley let out a yawn and stretched. She tried to find a more comfortable position in the recliner. Since the girls’ and his parents’ visit that afternoon, she had tried to elicit another response from Noah with no success.
She decided to try one more time. She slid her hand into his. “Can you squeeze my fingers, babe?”
She waited—no response. She repeated the words and actions again and again...nothing. Maybe he’s just exhausted. I’ll try later.
The night nurse, Matt, entered and shone his penlight in the darkened room. He took Noah’s temperature and other vital signs, documenting them on the computer. His lips compressed as he rechecked his temperature and blood pressure.
Ashley sensed tension in the air. “How are his vitals?”
A crease formed between Matt’s brows. “His blood pressure is 60/40 and dropping. Pulse is rapid and thready at 130 beats per minute, and his temp has spiked to 103.4.”
Blood drained from Ashley’s face. Septic shock! She pushed aside the blanket and raced to Noah’s bedside, assessing him. His hands were clammy and cold, while his forehead was on fire.
“I’m going to notify the on-call intensivist.” Matt scurried out of the room.
Ashley leaned her face next to Noah’s, swollen and bruised in the lights of the monitors. Suddenly, a faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, which was still intubated and attached to the respirator.
“Noah. I’m right here beside you.”
A peaceful presence filled the room. Noah smiled again and raised his hand. The bedside alarms went off as his vital signs bottomed out of the low-alarm range.
“No! No! Please, Lord. I need him. The girls need him. Don’t take him from us, I beg you.”
The Code Blue team swarmed in. Ashley crumpled into a corner of the room as the team took over.
The respiratory therapist started hand-ventilating.
Another team member began chest compressions.
Dr. Peters, the on-call intensivist, called out orders as blood was drawn, and the medication nurse administered emergency drugs through his Broviac catheter.
Ashley cowered and wrung her hands in desperation, praying over and over. “Please, Lord. Please.”
A sense of calm and peace washed over her as she watched the team working together skillfully.
What was best for Noah? Their life together from the moment they had met flashed before her eyes, their wedding day, the birth of each of their daughters, their daily highs, and lows of life, how he smiled at her with that light in his eyes, how he provided for his family and protected them, for the strong, brave firefighter that he was. All the qualities that make him Noah.
I don’t want his life to be miserable. He would want to be the whole man that he was. That’s what he wanted. He had clearly stated his desires on the paperwork she had just signed. She surrendered as her prayer turned to Your will...not mine, Jesus. Your will be done.