Andi #3
There are half a dozen people, all moving in sync with each other.
“Male, collapsed, suspected heart attack, LUCAS in place...” Drew lists a whole bunch of things in his rapid report that I don’t understand, but everyone from the hospital immediately uses the information to take over.
They wheel my dad out and whisk him away. When I finally unbuckle my harness and try to get out of the ambulance, my knees nearly buckle and give way from underneath me.
I don’t think Dr. Brennar will be a big fan of all the stress I’m putting myself through.
But I’d be stressed the hell out, regardless of whether I’m in the hospital or not.
“Hello there,” a kind, feminine voice says from behind me.
I nearly jump out of my skin, turning around to see a young woman with dark hair and tan skin in a dark suit.
“H—hi,” I stutter, trying to force myself to take a deep breath.
“Are you family of the patient?”
“Yes,” I nod. “I’m his daughter, Andi.”
“Hi Andi, my name is Tish, I’m one of the social workers here. Let me bring you somewhere you can wait more comfortably, yeah?”
“Please, thank you.” I’m clinging to Eli’s hoodie like it’s a teddy bear.
The halls of the hospital feel long and endless before she stops in front of a door to a room with a couple of cozy-looking couches and dimmer, less harsh lighting than the fluorescent lights of the hallway.
“Is this... for me?” It seems to be a private room, considering the lack of anyone else waiting.
“Yes, it’s a family consultation room. More comfortable than our waiting rooms,” Tish says with a soft smile. “I know this must be a lot.”
“I have—have people coming to meet me. Packmates, would it be okay if they came and stayed with me too?”
“Yes, of course. When they enter from the front, tell them to ask the front desk to direct them to Wing F, room 218.”
“O—okay, thank you, Tish,” I pull out my phone from the waistband of my leggings as I step into the room.
“Do you need anything else? A blanket? There’s water in the corner,” she gestures to a water dispenser.
“A—A blanket would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I open the group chat on my phone, my hands trembling.
Andi
At the hospital
They put me in a private waiting room and said you guys can join me
Wing F, room 218
Beck
We’ll be there in a few minutes, Starlight
Parking was a bitch
Everett
I’m headed from work. Will take me a bit longer. But I’ll be there
Tish appears a moment later with a soft, fleece-like blanket.
“Here you go,” she says, handing it to me.
I can’t help but run my hand over it like I’m petting a cat.
It’s much softer than the blankets I was given when I stayed at the hospital the night after Ezra attacked me.
Damn, that feels like a lifetime ago.
That was the last time I was in the hospital.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.
“There’s a circulation desk. If you need me, ask one of the nurses to page me, alright? I’ll be stopping by periodically to check on you.”
“Okay,” I nod, trying to muster the strength to return her smile and failing.
Guess polite hospitality is too big a task for me right now.
The hospital is chillier than I remember.
Or maybe it’s just the adrenaline from the situation fading, now that I can’t see my dad’s limp, lifeless form.
Despite sliding Eli’s hoodie over my head and wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I’m still shivering when Beck, Eli, Cameron, and Leo burst through the door.
“Hi,” I say, trying again to muster some sort of smile. I’m sure it looks closer to a grimace, but at least the muscles in my face are working again.
Eli is the one who moves the fastest, seating himself on the sofa next to me and immediately pulling me into his lap. He holds me to his chest so tightly that it’s like the rest of the world falls apart.
“Any—any news?”
It’s not until he speaks that I realize he’s crying. His voice is trembling, despite the fact that his body is stock-still.
“I don’t—don’t know,” I whisper. “They’re treating him now.”
“Fuck,” he rasps.
“Thank you for doing CPR.” I cling to him, almost like I want us to merge into one amorphous blob as the world falls away.
“No need to thank me for doing what anyone would do,” he grunts.
Beck appears at our side, throwing himself over the two of us like he wants to join the amorphous blob party.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I sniffle, the tears I’ve been trying to keep at bay, threatening to fall again. “He was—he was alright this morning. He was smiling and walking and talking and—”
I burst into sobs.
No amount of the tools Nancy and I have worked on in therapy would have prepared me for this moment.
Because we’d been spending the majority of our time working through my anxiety. Quieting that voice at the back of my head that would insist that everything good in my life would fall apart.
I don’t have the tools to figure out what the hell to do when my life is actually falling apart.
No amount of deep breathing will make sure my dad is able to continue breathing.