CHAPTER TWELVE
You’ll never win an argument with your wife. ‘Cause if you lose, you lose, and if she loses, you lose. They shouldn’t be about getting the win, but about being heard and moving forward.
~Text from Brooks to Emmett~
Emmett
I’m not sure at first what wakes me up until I hear two distinct sounds, one of which I’ve heard often in the last four months.
The first sound is Hope cooing on the baby monitor.
It tells me she’s awake and will let the world know in a very short time.
She thankfully sleeps through the night most nights, but when she’s up in the morning, she is up and expects the rest of the world to be up too.
I hear Booker in Hope’s room talking to her. She may not be able to really play with him, but he loves making her laugh, and I love watching them together. He’s also unknowingly buying us some time by entertaining her.
The other sound isn’t one that I like to hear.
Kinsley’s sick in the bathroom again. She’s just started her fourth cycle of chemotherapy.
Doctor Schultz is optimistic that she might need just one more after this, maybe two at most. The doctor says her body has been doing as well as can be expected through this whole thing.
I thought we got lucky because during her first two rounds, she was only mildly nauseated, and it lasted only a day or two.
Her last round, she was exhausted the whole time.
It was rough and she had a hard time because she woke up every day with clumps of hair on her pillow.
Mom and Linnea came over with wigs and scarves galore, and that kept Kinsley’s fighting spirit up.
Mom says that’s one of the biggest factors to her beating this thing.
I’m extra worried because she was sick almost all day the last two days and hasn’t really eaten anything.
I get up and head to our bathroom because I can hear on the baby monitor that Booker’s still got Hope entertained for the moment.
I open the door, and Kinsley is lying on the bathroom tile, her head close to the toilet.
She looks worse than I’ve ever seen her, and that immediately has me concerned.
I bend down and reach out to touch her. “How long have you been in here sick this morning?”
She opens her eyes but doesn’t move her head.
“I think a couple of hours. I’m not sure.
I took a nap here for a bit because the tile felt cool on my face.
” I reach out and touch her face, and she’s burning up.
She sniffles. I don’t remember Doctor Schultz saying she might get a fever along with a stuffed-up nose.
I think a phone call to her might be warranted.
If she’s sick on top of her side effects from this round of chemotherapy, we want to be on top of it so it doesn’t mess up her immunity and strength.
“Sweetheart, can I get you anything? Some of those ginger chews or that tea?” She shakes her head at me.
“No. I’m gonna lie here a little longer then attempt to get up and go back to bed.
I know you have work in a bit, but can you get Hope up and feed her?
If she has her first bottle of the day, I’m sure I can power through and handle the rest of the day.
” Yeah, I don’t see that happening if she can’t get off the floor right now.
“I’ll go take care of Hope and get Booker breakfast too. ”
I go back into our bedroom and grab my phone.
I shuffle out to the living room, start the coffee, prepare a bottle, and put it in the warmer.
As it’s warming, I walk into the nursery and find Booker telling Hope all about the Triceratops and why it’s a good one to know.
I think Booker loves his sister because she’s a captive audience who can’t change the subject.
“Morning, you two. How many dinosaurs have you told your sister about this morning?” Booker watches as I reach into the crib and pick up my princess, kissing her forehead.
She looks more like her mama every day. “I only got to three today. I need to get her a crocodile so I can show her the difference between that and her gator. Can I have your phone so I can find a crocodile on and order it for Sissy?”
I glare at him as I change Hope’s diaper.
“Isn’t there a rule about you going on our ?
” I can hear his sigh of annoyance. “I bought three things one time, and I’m banned for life.
” I pick Hope up and turn to head out to the kitchen.
Booker is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed in annoyance.
“You bought a life-size gator, a very expensive baseball glove, and a top-of-the-line science kit for making fossil imprints. That was a lot to put on your mom’s credit card without permission.
We can look online together for a stuffed crocodile, but your browsing alone privileges are still suspended.
Now let’s get your sister her breakfast, and you can get some too. ”
I head into the kitchen with a cooing daughter in my arms, and Booker grumbling behind me about parents being unfair. Little man is just getting a taste of how life can be unfair when you're a kid. Ah, to be nine years old again.
Hope looks at me and bats her little hand on my face.
“You ready for your bottle, little one?” I take her bottle out of the warmer and test it before holding it to feed Hope.
She’s been starting to put her hands out as if to hold it, but hasn’t quite grasped the physical skill of actually holding it yet.
I go to the dining room table, set Hope in her bouncy chair so I can finish feeding her, and sit down with my phone to look up Doctor Schultz’s after-hours service number to call.
Booker is in the kitchen looking in the cabinets. “Can I have waffles? It's not a cereal morning.” I nod. “Yeah, your grandma put some more in the freezer, so you just need to toast them in the toaster.”
I listen as he gets his breakfast ready.
I find the file on my phone and go through the information Doctor Schultz gave us.
It says a fever may occur, but I see nothing about a stuffy nose and other flu symptoms. I do remember her saying to try and keep sick people away from Kinsley, which we have, but it seems she might have caught something.
Booker asks if he can watch television while he eats. “Yeah, bud, go ahead.” I don’t really want him listening as I call the doctor. Hope finishes her bottle and lets out a large burp. She’s always good for one in the morning. I flip down the toy bar on the bouncy seat so she can play.
I dial the number for the doctor’s service and put in a request for Doctor Schultz to call me back.
The service advises me that I should be getting a call shortly.
I set my phone on the table in front of me.
The television blaring tells me Booker will be entertained for a while.
I hear movement in our bedroom, and I glance over and see Kinsley’s made it back to our bed, but I can hear her sniffling and coughing from here.
I’m thinking she really is sick with a bug and not just the side effects from this most recent round of chemo.
My phone rings and I answer it. “Hello, Doctor Schultz.”
“Hello, Emmett. What’s going on this morning? My service said you had some concerns.”
I nod and answer her. “Yeah, I do. You know Kinsley’s had nausea with her other rounds, but not actually vomiting.
She is now, and has been for the last few days.
I know from the information you gave us that can happen after any of the rounds.
My concern is she’s not keeping any food down, and she’s burning up.
That alone would be a concern, but she’s also stuffed up and coughing.
Makes me think she’s actually sick and not just from the chemo. ”
Doctor Schultz asks me if she’s been drinking much water or anything else and what she’s tried to eat in the last few days.
I fill her in, since we’ve been keeping track of how much water Kinsley’s been drinking to make sure she doesn’t get dehydrated during this process.
The doctor must be taking notes on everything I’ve told her because she pauses before she speaks again.
“Alright. I think I’m going to have you bring her in to at least get some fluids in her, but I would like to speak to her first.” I take Hope out of her bouncer and pick her up.
“Hold on a sec. Let me bring the phone to her.”
I walk into the bedroom and over to the side of the bed. Kinsley opens one eye. “Sweetheart, Doctor Schultz is on the phone and would like to talk to you.” I hand her the phone. She barely moves—just another sign to show she doesn’t feel well.
“Hello?” I can’t hear what the doctor is saying, but she must be asking her several questions because all I hear are yes and no answers. After a couple of minutes, I hear her say, “Okay,” and she hands me back the phone. I put the phone back to my ear. “Am I being overly cautious?”
“No, I think there is some reason to be concerned, especially about her being dehydrated. I’m heading to the hospital to do rounds, so I would like you to bring her in.
If nothing else, we can put her on an IV to keep her from getting too dehydrated.
I can examine her when she comes in. If she does have the flu or something similar, we need to be careful because her immunity is extremely compromised.
” I agree to bring her in and hang up with the doctor.
Well shit. I’ve gotta figure out something because I’m not dragging Booker and Hope to the hospital with us. Booker is with us this weekend because
Meg and Maddie went away for a weekend getaway. Mom and Dad are coming back from Leavenworth later today, since Mom loves to go every year for the shopping. Even if they left now, it would still be almost a four-hour drive back.
Time to think smart about this shit. I create a message to the seven people who I think can help me the soonest.
Me: Ya’ll said to let you know when we might need help.
Well, today’s that day. I’ve got both Booker and Hope with me, and I need someone to watch them.
Kinsley’s sick—more than just the effects from her latest round and the doctor wants me to bring her in to get checked out.
Can anyone come over and watch our kids?
Mom and Dad won’t be back home for a few hours, and Meg is out of town.
I immediately get a bunch of text messages back.
Grant: Shit. Erik and I are on our way back to town. Should be there in less than 2 hours. I’m gonna come to the hospital. Erik can watch the kids.
Cash: I’m on shift but am off at five. If you still need help, I can come straight over.
Saxon: Delilah and I are free. We’ll come help.
Willie: I can come help after my meeting, which should be in an hour.
Way: I’ll grab some coffee and be over. Surely three grown men can take care of a nine-year-old and a baby.
Me: I’ll remember you said that when you’re knee deep in diapers and dinosaurs. Thank you, guys.
Samson: We’re family. That’s what family does.
Saxon: Family helps family, not write family speeding tickets. Remember that, Deputy.
Samson: Before anyone says it, I will. Shut up, Saxon.
Alright. Kids will be taken care of, so it’s time to get myself and my woman ready to leave as soon as one of the guys gets here.
Kinsley
I know when I was pregnant, I thought morning sickness was the worst. Turns out I was wrong—like, epically wrong.
The porcelain throne and I have been way too close the last few days.
I don’t know how I can still be up-chucking when I haven’t eaten anything but like two saltines in the previous twenty-four hours.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I can’t breathe through my nose or that when I’m not praying to the porcelain gods, I’m coughing up a lung.
All I want to do is snuggle up in my bed and sleep this thing off, but that would require me not running to the bathroom every fifteen fucking minutes.
Yes, I’m cranky. I’m irritable, and I just want to feel better.
I want my fucking hair back, too, while I’m at it. A pity party for one is in full swing.
Emmett took control, got our family to watch Hope and Booker, got me dressed, and carried me out to the truck.
I honestly don’t remember much of the drive, but we were brought back to a room at the hospital almost immediately.
Apparently, being sick and having a compromised immune system gets you to the front of the line.
Doctor Schultz just came in and checked me out.
She’s concerned that this cold or bug or whatever it is I have could turn into pneumonia if we aren’t careful, so she’s having me admitted so I can be pumped full of stuff to keep me from becoming dehydrated and to help me have a better chance at fighting whatever it is I’ve seemed to have caught.
All I know is whatever they gave me in the first IV is helping me to stop needing to dry heave into the toilet.
I’m calling that a notch in the win column.
I think it’s probably got something to help me sleep, too, because I can feel my eyelids drooping. Sleep does sound amazing.