7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Brynn
W e arrive at the hospital with time to spare before rounds start. I am a little nervous to see my dad, to be honest. He hates that I never come to visit. I try to keep in touch, but I'm busy with the hustle and bustle of the city and my job and dad goes to bed quite early after being on the ranch all day.
We sign in at the front reception desk and get our visitor tags. As we walk down the hallway to dad's room, I feel my anxiety grow. "Did you tell dad I was coming?"
"Nope. I figured it would be a pleasant surprise." Blake knocks softly on the door. "Hey dad. I brought someone for you."
"Better not be that evil nurse with the stick up her ass," I hear my dad grumble.
"Nah, but pretty sure she has a stick up her ass too," Blake teases.
"Don't sass me, boy. I can still kick your ass. "
"I don't think you are in any shape to be handing out ass-whoopin's." I peer around the curtain to see my dad laying in a hospital bed. Growing up he was the epitome of strong to me. He worked hard, never asked for help, and could do anything he set his mind to. I always admired my dad's work ethic and knowledge. I couldn't wait to help him on the ranch every morning; to learn anything and everything he was willing to teach me.
"Brynn? Is that you, baby girl?" Dad sits up, a smile on his face.
"Hi Daddy." I lean down to kiss his stubbly cheek.
I see a tear well in his eye. "What are you doing here?"
"Do you want me to leave?" To be honest, I am a little afraid of his answer.
"Of course not, baby girl. I am just wondering why you are here and not in New York. Did something happen?" He asks, worry taking over his features.
"You had a stroke, Dad. I could've been here sooner if my idiot brothers had filled me in about everything," I say as I glare at Blake.
Blake clears his throat. "We didn't want you to worry."
"You shouldn't have come, Brynn. I am just fine. Get to go home today." His speech slurs at the end.
"I know. But I had to be sure you were okay. I wasn't trusting that my brothers would get you the help you need." I squeeze his hand gently. It is bruised and battered, not sure if it is from the needles or working when he shouldn't.
"I don't need any help," Dad says as he sits up a little straighter in the bed. "I am just fine."
"Why don't you let us be the judge of that?" A woman's voice rings out through the room. "Good morning, I am Dr. White, and I am your dad's neurologist. He seems to be responding well to treatment, and we don't have any issues with releasing him today."
"Anything we need to know about his recovery at home?" I pull my notebook out of my purse, ready to take down any information I might need. "I want to be sure we are helping him progress."
"We will give you a packet at discharge that explains everything you need to know about his follow up care. There will be information on what therapies he will be receiving and the appointment times for those. He has made great strides in his recovery. The stroke did leave him with some normal deficits, but he is quickly learning how to overcome those. I anticipate that he will make a full recovery."
"When you say full recovery, my father hears that he is just fine and can go back to his daily routine."
"As long as that routine includes taking his medication as prescribed, eating healthy, exercising regularly and avoiding any strenuous activities; then yes. He can go about his daily routine," Dr. White says.
"So, can he do ranch work?"
"I imagine that work on a ranch is very strenuous, so the answer is no. He needs to take it easy; he can try to push his limits, but he will regret it."
"Okay, well, if you have any recommendations on how to keep him away from ranch work, that would be great," I deadpan.
The doctor stares me up and down, but I am not intimidated. "Well, I can say if he wants to live to see grandchildren, or even the next couple of years, he should adhere to the plan we have set. It is critical that he takes his health seriously from this point forward."
"Hear that, Dad?" I ask with a pointed look.
Dad grumbles something unintelligible, but I am pretty sure the majority was curses.
"If there are no other questions, the nurses will be in shortly to remove all his monitors and have him sign his discharge papers," Dr. White states.
Blake and I nod in understanding and dad lets out a long exhale. The doctor wishes dad good luck in his recovery and then leaves the room to continue her rounds .
"Okay, so once we get home, we can go over all the paperwork and be sure everything is taken care of," I say to Blake as he relaxes into the chair.
"Do I get a say?" Dad crosses his arms over his chest.
"Nope. You get to do as we say, so you are around for a while."
"Are you going to be around for a while?" Dad asks curiously.
"Well, I am not planning on dying anytime soon," I say with a laugh.
"Not what I meant, and you know it."
"I am staying until I make sure you are okay."
"I already told you I was fine," He complains as he uncrosses his arms.
"Then I shouldn't have to be here long," I quip.
"We all know you don't want to be here, anyway."
"Alright, you two, that's enough," Blake says exasperated. "Let's not do this here."
Dad huffs and I cross my arms over my chest and sit in the chair.
"Geez, you guys are exactly alike." Blake runs his palms down his face.
"No, we aren't," Dad and I both say in unison. Blake raises his hand to us as if to say, 'See? '
We all sit in silence until the nurses come to unhook dad from all the monitors and give us all the paperwork.
I gather up all his belongings and take them to the truck, while dad gets dressed and waits on transport to wheel him out. On the drive home, we are all pretty silent.
I can't wait to get back and sift through all the paperwork and figure out exactly what I need to handle so I can get back home as soon as possible. I've about had my fill of Cedar Creek, and it has only been twenty-four hours.