25. Summer
CHAPTER 25
Summer
R yan and I get to the school in record time, despite stopping by my house first to grab Emma’s booster from my car. I leave him in the truck and hustle to the front office. After dealing with the paperwork to sign Emma out for the day, the receptionist leads me down a short hallway and stops before a door with a homemade “Nurse’s Office” sign dangling from a hook next to it. She knocks briskly on the door and leaves me to it.
After hearing a muffled, “Come in,” I cautiously enter the dimly lit room. The nurse has turned off the overhead lights, but left on a dim desk lamp. The light of her computer gives her wrinkled face an eerie, blue glow. She’s seated behind a small desk in the corner of the room while Emma is laid out on a well-loved tan couch against the opposite wall.
Emma’s eyes are closed, but her face is a mask of pain. Her little body looks so tense and I can tell even from across the room that she’s feverish.
I go to her immediately. “Hi, baby girl. The school called and told me you weren’t feeling well.” I smooth her sweat-dampened hair away from her brow. She cracks her eyes open and looks at me. She gives me a little shake of her head and then closes her eyes tight again.
The nurse approaches us, rubbing hand sanitizer into her hands. “Hi Ms. Evans, I’m Janet. I’m the one who called you earlier. Thank you for getting here so quickly.” She gestures for me to follow her back toward her desk. “Sorry, I just don’t want to scare her,” she says in a whisper.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my heart racing.
“Well, I’m a little concerned. After I got off the phone with you, Emma vomited twice in the time it took you to get here. Ordinarily, I would just write it off as a stomach bug, but what has me worried is that she keeps putting a hand over her abdomen on the right side. Has Emma ever had any issues with her appendix?” Her low, kind voice does little to calm me despite her efforts.
“No,” I reply, trying to keep my voice as low as hers, so Emma doesn’t overhear.
“It could be a pulled muscle from vomiting, but with all the symptoms she’s having, I would advise you to take her to the emergency room. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
My stomach drops to my toes. “Okay, thank you for calling me.”
“Of course. I printed my notes for you already.” She hands me a typed paper detailing Emma’s symptoms and then says, “I’m also going to give you a few emesis bags for the road. The nearest ER is in Springview, and a thirty-minute car ride is likely to make her nausea worse.” She hands me a few elongated blue bags with a ring at the top. She squeezes my shoulder and turns a worried eye on Emma.
“Thank you so much,” I say, tucking the bags and paperwork into my purse.
I walk back towards Emma and squat down beside her. “Hey, Em. We’re going to take a ride in my friend’s truck to see some doctors at the hospital, okay? They want to check on you and make sure you’re alright.” She nods once. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m going to pick you up now.”
I throw the paperwork and emesis bags in my purse and scoop her up in my arms as gently as I can. She lets out a low moan of pain and my breathing constricts. “I’m sorry. We’ll get you to the doctor as quick as we can so they can fix you up.” I nod my thanks to the nurse, and then we head through the main office and out into the bright daylight.
Soon enough, we’re walking through the large glass doors of the ER, Emma in my arms and Ryan trailing behind. Emma is so out of it, she barely paid Ryan any attention on the way here. He chucks the used emesis bag in the trashcan before hustling to keep up with us. I approach the desk, clutching Emma tightly, so I don’t jostle her too much.
“Hi, can I help you?” The receptionist looks at Emma before turning her bespectacled eyes on me. I take a second to get her checked in, with Ryan acting as an additional pair of hands to get the insurance card out of my bag.
I sit down with Emma in a nearby chair while she’s still cradled in my arms. Luckily it’s a calm Friday afternoon, so there’s only a few people sitting at opposite ends of the waiting room. One older Black man has an arm cradled against his chest, pain tightening his face. A young couple sits together across the room from us, her head resting against her shoulder and their hands interlaced.
Ryan comes and sits next to us after getting the paperwork for me. “Do you want to tell me what to write and I can fill it out for you?” He clicks the pen when I nod and begins filling out the form while I quietly dictate Emma’s information.
He takes the paperwork up to the desk and collects my license and insurance card. I run a hand through my hair and meet the older man’s eye. He gives me a sympathetic look and returns his gaze to the flatscreen mounted to the wall.
“The receptionist said it wouldn’t be long until they call us back,” Ryan says as he sits next to me once again. He puts my things back in my bag and wraps a reassuring arm around my shoulders for a quick squeeze.
I nod and press my shoulder into him for a brief second, hoping they’ll call us back soon. I shift my arms a little, feeling them tremble with the effort of holding Emma for so long. I’m struck by how big she’s gotten. I used to hold her on my hip for an hour with no problem. Now, her long legs dangle over my arm and her sweaty head rests just under my chin. It’s been a long time since I’ve held her like this. Time is a thief.
“Emma Forrester?” A nurse in colorful scrubs holding an industrial-looking tablet calls into the waiting room.
“That’s us.” I stand with Emma.
Ryan asks, “Do you want me to go with you or do you want me to wait here?”
“I think you should probably wait here. I’ll shoot you a text when I know more. Thank you so much for doing this,” I say as he hands me my bag.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He settles back in his chair and pulls up a sudoku app on his phone.
Despite the circumstances, I can’t help but tease, “Old man.” The corner of his mouth ticks up and he gives me a gentle push towards the waiting nurse. I hoist Emma higher on my chest and walk towards the nurse.
“You’re her mom?” she asks. When I nod to confirm, she leads me down a brightly lit, sterile hallway. The walls are painted a seafoam green and our shoes squeak on the gleaming, white tile. Her brisk pace has me scrambling to keep up, especially with Emma acting as a dead weight.
I follow her into a room labeled “triage” where she directs me to lay Emma down on the bed. She efficiently takes her vitals, all the while asking me questions about her symptoms.
When she pushes down on Emma’s right side, Emma bucks and lets out a loud yelp of pain. She starts crying and reaches out for me, eyes wide.
“I’m so sorry sweetie. I had to do that as part of our tests to see what’s going on.” The nurse looks at me, her mouth pressed into a worried line. “We’re going to get her admitted. I’ll be back shortly with a gown and the doctor should be in after to talk to you.” At my nod, she exits the room through an interior door that leads to what looks like a nurse’s station. When she gets back, the nurse and I work together to get Emma changed into the light-blue hospital gown and under the starched covers.
I know Emma isn’t doing well when she hardly flinches as the nurse gets an IV going after we’ve been moved to a room for admitted patients. She normally throws a huge fit if she has to get poked. She just turns her head away while the nurse gets a few vials of blood and clutches my arm with her free hand.
The next little bit passes in a blur, and suddenly they’re wheeling Emma away for a CT scan. I’m left alone in the small, beige room tapping my foot anxiously, repeatedly locking and unlocking my phone, and watching the minutes tick by at a snail’s pace. When Emma was here, it was easy to be distracted from my own anxious thoughts because I was so focused on making sure she was okay. I might drive myself insane. After checking that Jared hasn’t called for the umpteenth time, I leave him another message letting him know Emma is getting some tests done. Even though he probably won’t get the messages until later, I want to keep him up-to-date.
They wheel her back into the room and let me know the doctor should be in shortly to discuss the test results. Once we’re alone again I ask, “How are you doing, sweet girl?” I brush her hair back from her sweaty face. Luckily they gave her something for the vomiting, so she hasn’t been sick since before they took her back for the CT scan.
“It still really hurts,” she whispers.
“I’m sorry, baby. Hopefully, they’ll be able to help with the pain soon.” I squeeze her hand and start humming the lullaby I used to sing her as a baby. It always calms her, even still.
“I’m scared, Mama,” she whispers. My heart nearly shatters and I hold her hand tighter.
I say, “I know, Em. Going to the hospital can be scary. Just know that they’ll take good care of you. You’ll feel better soon.” She nods and goes back to closing her eyes.
A young doctor enters the room after a quick knock on the door. “Hi, Emma and Mom. I hear you aren’t feeling so great today. I’m Dr. Miller.” She briskly washes her hands before pulling up the rolling chair next to the hospital bed. Emma shakes her head minutely. “I’m sorry to hear that. The good news is that we should be able to get you fixed up today and you’ll be on your way to feeling better soon. How does that sound?” She leans toward Emma and gives her arm a small squeeze.
“Good,” Emma states in a small voice, doing her best to muster up a smile.
The doctor grins brilliantly in response. “Great! Okay, Mom let me go over these results with you and our plan of action.” She wheels towards the large computer monitor, enters her credentials, and pulls up a scan. She points to a blob amongst the other grayish blobs and says, “This is Emma’s appendix. It’s pretty inflamed and is the source of the pain. Considering her fever and the level of inflammation, I’m recommending we remove it today, as soon as our general surgeon, Dr. Watkins, is available.”
My heart sinks. I knew it was a possibility, but it’s awful to have it confirmed. “Okay. If you think that’s the best course of action. I just want my daughter to get better.”
“I understand completely. Dr. Watkins should be ready to take her back within the hour. I’ll have my nurse bring you the relevant paperwork to sign in the meantime. I’ll also order some pain medicine to make Emma more comfortable until they can take her back.”
Dr. Miller stands to wash her hands again before giving me a reassuring smile. She says, “Don’t worry, this is a very routine surgery and once she wakes up, she’ll be a little sore, but feeling better than she is right now. She’ll be back to herself in no time.” I say my thanks and then go back to humming Emma’s lullaby and stroking her hair.