Chapter Twenty-Seven
Careful What You Ask For
Ziggy
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m so serious. You’re going to need to step outside so we can take care of her.” The woman in baby blue scrubs was stressing for the second or third time at the doorway of Ro’s room.
I wiped my mouth with my hand and stared at my wife over her shoulder.
“Mr. Nash,” she quietly pleaded, lowering her tone to a sympathetic whisper.
I blinked and stepped back shaking my head. “This means her heads fucked-up right? It’s bleeding again?”
I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
“We don’t know that. I’m not a doctor, I’m not permitted to diagnose her, but it appears she’s having some kind of seizure. Her blood pressure spiked on the monitors. Upon entry she was non-responsive to sound or touch. Her muscles were rigid, and she appeared to be convulsing at times. She never stopped breathing,” The lady paused, and looked over her shoulder, “Pulse is back to normal now. She needs rest, let’s give them room to get her comfortable and see what tests the doctor wishes to run. Why don’t you grab a coffee? I’ll hopefully know what is to be ordered by the time you finish it.”
“Her pulse is right?” I doubled back to the only part I really knew to be a good thing.
“Yes.”
I slowly nodded and took another step back, “You’ll call me if–”
“There are any hints of change,” she promised.
I cleared my throat, and made myself get on the damn elevator.
I wasn’t really a coffee man, but I made my way to a bench in front of the hospital and slumped down on it. I took my phone out and scrolled through my contacts, landing on Henny.
It took me twenty minutes to bring him up to speed, not because I enjoyed gossiping or anything, it just seemed like every two minutes women in nursing uniforms were flocking back and forth.
“What fuckin time is it?” I grumbled, pulling the phone away from my ear to see if it even displayed while on a call.
“I don’t know, man, like seven?”
“Oh. Shift change,” I guessed.
“Probably.” He laughed. “Let me know if any of them day nurses are worth lookin’ at.”
“Why? Are you going to find an excuse for a bed in I.C.U. just so you can look at someone nice, tight, and bejeweled with a stethoscope, dumbass?” I shot right back, earning a look from a stern, grandmotherly-looking woman in a bleach-white uniform as she passed. She even had the little hat on her head like they used to wear when I was a kid.
“I might.” He howled.
“Oh, you know what? Fuck you, Henny. It’s too early for this. You got veteran nurses out here in the parking lot looking at me like I’m the neighborhood pervert. I’m going to see about my wife before someone calls security on my ass.”
He was still laughing when I hung up. He had managed to make me smile for a minute. I slid the phone back into my pocket, parked an elbow on either knee, and put my head in my hands.
The foot traffic had slowed, and birds were chirping. It was already starting to warm.
Time was slipping by so much faster than it used to. I couldn’t remember the last week of peace I’d found. I sat there straining to recall the last meal I’d enjoyed with all of my children around a table. It didn’t happen often now that their mother and I had separate houses and they were grown. I didn’t hold it against anyone, with all of them grown now, it was hard to get everyone’s schedule lined up with a big family. Still, I kind of wished I’d made the time before Sammy rode off with Menace.
Some folks say every little thing happens for a reason, that life is all some predestined plan. I could see the want in believing a notion like that. Honestly, I could, but I was also a man who knew damned good and well; there was a whole lot of shit that I’d done in my lifetime that no God known or yet to come would ever sanction, let alone have planned. I was a man who had known war as a marine and a biker. An individual who had buried a child before they had lost their first tooth. It was safe to say, I’d never been much of a believer in all of that pre-destiny bullshit. So, I kind of surprised myself, when I started praying before I even realized I was doing it. I’m not saying I was any good at it, and I don’t know what might have started it.
I’m just saying– I don’t know why you put this girl in my life. I didn’t ask for no woman. I wasn’t looking for one. Hell, I didn’t plan on ever being married again, let alone to a young lady with her whole life ahead of her. She should be at college parties, not laying in a hospital bed over street vengeance. You know, I really hope that’s why you brought her to me, because if it ain’t, you’re just gonna have to add what I’m about to do to the ten-mile list of mortal sins I’m gonna be sweating off.
I snorted, and it was not lost on me that maybe that was some kind of sanction in its own right? Or maybe I was just losing my mind from lack of sleep and looking for signs in all the wrong places. What even was this? I didn’t go to church…
But what if it made her better?
I sucked my teeth and fell back into my prayer like we were old friends.
Listen, right or wrong, I have to keep her safe. That’s why you gave her to me, right? Yeah, we’ll go with that. So, if you don’t want this war, you better send a sign the size of a Greyhound or something. You of all people know I only know how to do this one way. You blessed me with nerves of steel, a heart that beats and bleeds for my club and family, and a kill-switch that lets me get shit done when either are in need of my skills. Once I pull that switch, we both know what happens. I get lost in the war, I sign on for more and more. I lose the ability to trust anyone’s protection or survival to chance. My trigger finger has no conscience in such states. So, if you mean for this girl to have any type of normal, you need to let me know. Like, now! I really, really ain’t trying to make her into Jolene. She deserves so much more. You’re gonna have to show me something, help me out here–
“Sir, are you alright?” a gentle voice interrupted.
My head snapped up and I blinked, quickly fixing a smile on my face, “Yeah. I’m good. You can save the Narcan.”
Her smile fell and she hurried toward her vehicle, leaving me to laugh as I hauled myself off the bench and headed inside.
“Get it together, Ziggy,” I pep-talked myself on the elevator ride up.
The nurse smiled when she spotted me and pointed toward the door, “She’s asking for you. I’ll be in momentarily.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t slow my pace a bit, I wanted to see her alert and talking.
She was moaning and two staff members were helping as she positioned herself with the head of the bed elevated.
“Your neck,” she gasped, when she saw me.
Tears instantly filled her eyes, as my hand shot up to my bandaged neck.
“Oh, shit.” I held out my hand in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture and stepped toward the napkin dispenser. It was shiny enough I could see where the tape began.
“Sauce said to take it off, but I forgot how long he said.”
“What happened?” Her voice still sounded scared, and her expression was full of concern.
The staff hurried out of the room as I peeled off the remainder of the gauze mess and tossed it in a waste basket.
Her lips slowly shifted into a smile once she was able to see the tattoo. It was a beautiful rose with our wedding date tattooed above it.
“You did that for me?” She blinked back tears, but they fell anyway.
“Roisin. Little rose is what it means, yeah?”
Her smile met her eyes, “I want us to go home.”
“We will, love. As soon as you’re better.” I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles.
Her gaze shifted from me, and I turned to see what caught her attention. The nurse in blue scrubs was approaching, along with a doctor in the hallway. She raised her hand to knock on the door frame, but when she realized we were expecting them, she waved instead.
“Hey, guys, this is Dr. Franklin. Doctor, this is our patient, Roisin Nash and her husband Mr. Nash.”
The doctor closed the door behind him and I gripped Ro’s hand a little tighter, without meaning to.
“Ah–” she hissed.
“Sorry,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure she heard me considering how loud the doctor’s next words were.
“Congratulations are in order.”
“Yeah. She woke up. That’s good news, right?” I nodded.
“That, Mr. Nash, is excellent news. You’re also pregnant, Mrs. Nash.” He glanced from me to her, and Ro’s grip on my hand turned vise-like.
“What?” She leaned toward him.
My brain hiccupped, too, but my question came out with a little more bass behind it, “What the fuck do you mean she’s pregnant? You’ve been dragging her ass down for x-rays and surgery while she’s pregnant?”
Her free hand shot to blanket mine.
“Wha– what do you mean I woke up? Everyone wakes up. What happened to me earlier?”
The doctor calmly raised his hands, a soft smile lingering on his face.
“Apologies, Mrs. Nash. You were admitted from the Emergency Room the night before last with a diagnosis of a small brain bleed, or what we would call a subdural hematoma. Your condition is being very closely monitored. It is not uncommon for people with brain bleeds to initially be unconscious for a day or two. Also, there may be seizure activity, which is what I suspect has happened this morning. The scan we just did shortly after the seizure ended shows no increase in the bleeding. It is stable by all appearances. The neurologist concurred. There was a small increase in blood pressure which we would like to monitor further. As to the pregnancy, it was detected by the presence of HCG, a hormone that essentially doubles every day in the initial stages of pregnancy. Upon admission, your levels were normal in blood and urine. Yesterday they were questionable, which is why they drew twice. The results were similar. The obstetrician on duty suggested waiting until morning and repeating. Each time the results were higher than the last as one would anticipate in a confirmed pregnancy. Now, as to the question of x-rays and surgery; we did a CT when she was first brought in which confirmed the bleed. The obstetrician agrees that a CT of the brain is generally believed to be relatively safe in the first few weeks of pregnancy. As the field of imaging is the head, and not the lower abdomen. However, it is not the first option when an MRI is available, and it is safe to await the results. For this reason, if there is no acute change we would prefer the MRI, if there were signs or any question toward active bleeding, increasing pressure or a need for surgery, the CT can provide results faster.”
He paused and seemed to be waiting for some sign that we were all on the same page.
Ro laughed, and my attention whipped toward her.
“I’m not pregnant. Your tests are bullshit.”
“We’ve compared blood and urine for–”
“I don’t care what you’ve compared. My period isn’t even late, and I’m not weeks pregnant. I married him not even two weeks ago, and I don’t care how messed up you say my head is, I’d know if I was sleeping with anyone before that, and I wasn’t.”
The doctor exhaled a nervous laugh, “Well, that– was a conversation—”
“My past sexual history was your conversation with who?” Ro snapped, drawing a snort from me.
“I’m sorry,” I quietly offered, trying to fix my gaze on the clock while she ball-busted. It really wasn’t funny, but she wasn’t this confrontational usually.
“Wha– No! No, ma’am. That was not the conversation. My apologies, let me reword myself. The figures– T-the results on the HCG test, you’ll recall I said it doubles. Yours were unremarkable two days ago, and now– They’re pretty high. The lab and obstetrician say this happens sometimes with multiples. Do either of you have a history of twins in the family?”
I rubbed my face and groaned, causing them both to look at me. I flipped my fingers guiltily in the air and decided to be a little more careful of what I asked for when speaking to my maker.
Fucking Greyhound, indeed.
“I have twin sons,” I volunteered.
“Interesting.” The doctor nodded, “Should I schedule a follow up with the obstetrician or will you be finding your own upon discharge, Mrs. Nash?”
“A follow up would be great,” Ro conceded.