My fitful sleep at the hospital didn’t last very long. About an hour after Karen saw us, the ER doctor woke me up with a soft shake of my shoulder.
“I know it’s late,” he said when I opened my eyes. “And you’re probably going to have a nasty crick in your neck tomorrow morning. We’re not known for our comfortable chairs.”
“That’s okay.”
I stretched, and my attention fell on my mother, who had somehow managed to fall asleep as well. It made her look even sicker, as if she was on the short path toward death’s door.
“Let’s step outside the room,” the doctor said in a low voice. I took his suggestion, and when we safely had a large curtain between us and my mother, he held out his hand. “Dr. Sparks.”
I shook it. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Sparks. I’m Samantha.”
He raised a small iPad I hadn’t noticed. “I see here in the notes that you’re Ms. Green’s next of kin.”
“Her daughter.”
“Mm-hmm.” He studied the tablet. “And she’s had emphysema now for about five years?”
“Among other health problems.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips. “It’s hard to keep up. Allergies, all kinds of respiratory problems. She was a longtime smoker.” I wrinkled my nose. “A pack a day before the diagnosis.”
Dr. Sparks looked up from the device. “That’s significant.”
“She had trouble quitting, no matter how hard she tried.” My mind flipped to all the times I’d begged her drop the habit, and how I’d seen her grow worse during periods when she was stressed out or upset. She’d increased from half a pack to a full one after signing the documents from Davis’s family. “Smoking is a terrible habit.”
“It is, and unfortunately, we’re fairly certain she has a moderate to severe case of pneumonia.” Dr. Sparks glanced at the iPad again. “Because of her reduced immune system, she’s already at risk. This must be monitored.”
I exhaled. “But this is treatable, right?”
“Combined with possible concussion, we can’t release her. Pneumonia, as you know, can be fatal, so we need to monitor her for the next few days. We’ll be moving her a room soon.”
“How long do you mean by a few days? Three, four?”
“It depends on how long her body needs to fight off the pneumonia.”
He made a few other broad statements, but I was barely listening. All I could think of was how worried I was about my mother, and how daunting this experience had been. I was struggling and losing hope. No question. Life had been one epic disaster after the other. This was the latest round of challenges, and I couldn’t see any reason to expect that things would ever get much better.
What a mind job.
After Dr. Sparks excused himself, I shuffled back into Mom’s temporary room and collapsed into the uncomfortable chair. The large clock on the wall above her bed read 3:36 AM. Damn, it had been such a long night, and I needed to be at Royal Palm by eight. If I was lucky, I’d get a few more hours of restless sleep before I needed to go home and get ready. Maybe I needed to call them and take the day off. I wasn’t sure and decided that to make that decision the following morning.
Things would feel clearer then. They had to be.
I let out a long sigh, and the overwhelming fatigue took over my body. I just wanted to go somewhere and sleep for weeks. No, make that months.
Sleep would make me feel better. Sleep would give me strength. And sleep would help me shut out the endless worry and anxiety that circled me when I was awake.
Before I gave myself over to the exhaustion, though, I fished my phone out of my purse and sent Davis a quick text message.
Mom has pneumonia. She’s been admitted to the hospital. No idea how long she’ll be here, but it’s a bad case. Thanks again for the dinner. It was a nice distraction.