DRAKE

I went to the hospital to see my mother for the first time in twenty-eight years.

Before I went, I sat in my office and called Kent, figuring I should let him know I was on my way to the hospital so the family could be prepared. Kate stood beside me, her hand on my shoulder, and listened when I put the call on speakerphone. Kent answered and we spoke briefly, introducing ourselves and then he talked about finding out they had a half-brother.

"Craig and Andrew aren't able to get here right now and will wait and see whether they need to come if she gets worse. Craig's in the Navy and is currently deployed. Andrew's in Texas and is working a big project. Amanda and I live in San Francisco so we're the two who have been watching over mom. We never knew anything about you until she started to lose her memory. Then, it was like she wanted to tell everyone about you before she forgot entirely," Kent said, his voice soft. "She finally told us that we had a half-brother from her first marriage and that she lost a son to leukemia. She said her marriage broke down and she went through a serious depression and left Manhattan, determined to kill herself by jumping off the Golden Gate bridge. But instead, she met my father, Herb, at the local Mission where he was the manager and that saved her life."

"I knew she was depressed. She felt she couldn’t care for me and that's why she left."

"It must have been hard on you," Kent said and that brought out a wave of emotion in me. "I couldn't imagine my mother leaving me or my wife leaving our son."

"I survived," I said. "No doubt it affected me for a long time. My own first marriage failed."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but it's understandable. We all wanted to meet you, once we learned about you. I did some sleuthing, hired a private detective in Manhattan to find out what he could about you and he gave us your contact information. He compiled a dossier on you and that's when we learned about the troubles you had with the attack on your wife."

"Yeah, sadly, it's become national news and fodder for the gossip magazines."

Kate squeezed my shoulder and I took her hand in mine.

"We didn't want to bother you in the middle of the trial. But then I spoke with someone at NYP and learned that you came out to San Francisco. When Mom got sick, and when she started to fail, we thought we should contact you right away."

"I'm so glad you did," I said, a lump in my throat. "I would have been really sad to find out about you only after she died."

"She probably won't recognize you or anything," Kent said. "But I thought you should see her at least once in case she dies."

We spoke about her failing health and I indicated that I wanted to go to the hospital as soon as possible.

"I won't be there until later due to work," Kent said, "but my dad Herb will be there with my sister Amanda. I'll call them and let them know you're on your way."

"Thanks," I said and rubbed my forehead. "I really appreciate this, Kent."

"Hey, I'm happy you'll get a chance to see her and look forward to meeting you."

"Me as well."

We ended the call and I turned to look at Kate, my eyes filled with tears.

"I guess I'll go," I said and pulled her onto my lap, our arms around each other. She pressed her forehead to mine and rubbed my back.

"I'm so sorry, Drake. Like you need this on top of everything else."

"No," I said and shook my head. "This is good. You know I've always wondered about her and what she did with her life after she left. I had no idea that she was planning to kill herself. I'm glad she met her husband and had a happy life."

"Still, it's upsetting."

I nodded but in truth, I was happy to see her despite everything. Kate and I kissed and I stood up, letting her out of my arms with reluctance.

"I'll go and stay for a while," I said. "I'll text you when I can but I'll probably just go right to work afterwards."

Kate kissed me and then I left, hopping into my car after collecting up my things. I drove off, on my way to the hospital.

I met Herb Reynolds at the hospital, along with his youngest daughter, my half-sister, Amanda.

Herb was a man in his late sixties, balding, with a bit of a comfortable paunch. His dark brown eyes were bleary and he looked as if he'd slept at the hospital. Amanda was about Kate's age, pretty with dark hair and dark eyes like her father.

We all shook hands, introducing ourselves and then he just stood there, giving me the once over. Finally, he shook his head.

"You look so much like her," he said, his voice emotional. "Like when I met her back when she first showed up at the Mission."

"My father told me I had her coloring," I replied. "The fair skin and dark hair."

"Yes," he said. "I could tell she was troubled right away. She had this distant look in her eyes. We worked together for a while and then started to date."

"You volunteered at the Mission?"

"Yes," he said. "It's a family tradition."

We talked for a while as we stood outside my mother's room. The nurses were in to administer some meds and so we talked while we waited but I caught sight of her through the window. She looked extremely frail, with longish grey hair, a nebulizer mask on her face to administer the medicine to make her breathe more easily. An IV was in place and there were several bags hung on the IV pole, including what looked like antibiotics and liquids for hydration.

"She's been in a nursing home because of her dementia. I kept her home as long as I could, but I work as a partner at a tax consulting firm. I had to choose between continuing at my job or quitting to care for her. I took as much time off as I could, using all my vacation time for the year, and then I took a six-month leave of absence, but in the end, I had to put her in care."

"Alzheimer's patients require a lot of care at the end," I said, my voice choking up. "I'm familiar with the rapid decline because I've had to care for a few patients over the years since I started practicing."

When the nurses were done, they let us go inside and I was uncertain how she'd respond, if at all, to seeing me.

We went into the room and Herb went to the bedside and took her hand.

"Louise," he said, bending down and talking to her in a loud voice. "We have a visitor here today. It's Drake Morgan, your son."

She looked up at his face, frowning, and made some incoherent mumbles. It was clear she was distressed, and breathing hard, her hand and arm shaking as she held Herb's hand. Not once did she turn to look at me, and I realized that she probably didn’t understand what Herb had said.

"Mom," Amanda said and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Your other son from your first marriage is here. We found him and he's here to say hello to you."

Amanda ushered me closer and both Herb and she stepped away from the bedside. I went to her, dressed in my scrubs, and took her hand. She probably thought I was another doctor to check on her – if she thought anything at all.

I took her hand in mine and smiled down at her, my eyes filling with tears as I realized how frail she was. She had been a taller woman from what I knew of her, maybe about five feet eight inches, but she seemed to have shrunk down, her hair grey and straggled, her cheeks gaunt. But her blue eyes were bright.

"It's me, Drake," I said softly. "Your son. From your marriage to Liam Morgan when you lived in Manhattan."

I couldn't see any recognition or understanding in her eyes. Instead, she gripped my hand and mumbled something I couldn't make out. I leaned down closer and tried to hear what she was saying, but it was muffled by the nebulizer mask. There was still medicine to be administered so I'd wait until it was finished. Perhaps then I'd be able to understand what she said.

I glanced up at Amanda and Herb, who were both smiling sadly, as they watched Louise hold my hand.

"She can't recognize me," I said. I turned back to my mother. "How could she? I haven't seen her for twenty-eight years."

"She probably doesn't understand what you're saying," Amanda said.

"Sometimes, Alzheimer patients have deep memories, but all their recent memories get progressively destroyed. She may remember having a son named Drake, but may not be able to comprehend that I'm him, but grown up."

I watched her breathing, which was strained, and knew her pneumonia was the cause. I checked the bag of antibiotics and saw that they were giving her some of the strongest available. If she had a drug-resistant bacterial infection, it would be useless. She'd get progressively worse, her oxygen would go down and she'd die from septicemia, her organs shutting down, one by one.

"I can't stand to watch her struggle," Amanda said, tears running down her face.

"They'll give her medicine for her pain and that tends to calm their breathing," I said, wanting to assure Amanda that she wouldn't struggle at the end. "She'll go to sleep and that will be how she dies. But if the antibiotics work, she should start breathing easier soon."

Amanda nodded and took our mother's other hand. We stood together like that, both of us holding one of her hands while she struggled to breathe.

Herb excused himself and left the room to get a cup of coffee, and Amanda told me stories of her mother and how she used to take them to the beach and to the fair each year. It seemed she had been a very loving mother. I felt glad that even if she couldn't be a mother to me, at least she became one to her children from her second marriage. It was possible for a person to make a new life after leaving the ruins of an old one.

Part of me wished she could have recovered while she was living with my father, but neither of them could deal with the loss of my brother and they grew so distant, my father couldn't help her when she became seriously depressed.

I was glad she met Herb. I let go of all my resentment towards her for leaving me and forgave her, and it felt as if a huge burden of guilt and shame fell off my shoulders. It wasn't because of me that she left us. It was because of her inability to deal with the death of my brother.

Tears spilled over my cheeks while I held her hand, not caring anymore if Amanda saw me, because she was crying as well.

"I'm glad you came," Amanda said, wiping her eyes with a tissue. "Even if she doesn't remember you, it's important that you were able to see her."

She handed me the box of tissues and I wiped my eyes. "Me, too. It's hard, but I would have regretted it the rest of my life if I hadn’t."

I spent another fifteen minutes with my mother, and soon, Kent showed up. I let go of my mother's hand to introduce myself.

"Drake," he said and came over, opening his arms to me. I was surprised at the show of affection, considering we'd never met, but I welcomed it. We hugged briefly and then he looked me over. "You look like her when she was young," he said. "I saw pictures of your father when I was doing research, and you look like him, too. But definitely like mom."

I nodded. Kent was pretty much a dead-ringer for a younger Herb with dark hair and brown eyes. I glanced between Kent and Amanda, my brother and sister, and felt thankful that Kent had taken the chance to find me.

"Thank you for tracking me down and calling."

"My pleasure," he said and then went over to our mother and bent down to kiss her. "Mom, how are you? It's me, Kent."

She grasped his hand and seemed to try to lift up to speak to him, but of course, the nebulizer was still on her face. I checked and the medicine was gone so I removed it for him. She tried to speak, but was nonsense, whatever it was she said.

"She doesn't make any sense," Kent said sadly.

"Once her oxygen goes down, she might be more confused than normal."

I slipped her oxygen cannula over her head and threaded it under her nose. She probably thought I was just another doctor come to see her, instead of her son. I smiled at her, but there was nothing in her eyes that said she knew what was going on around her.

"I have to go," I said and pointed to my watch. "I start my shift in fifteen and I have to get ready."

"Good to meet you," Kent said and beside him, Amanda nodded.

"Yes," she said, and came to give me another hug. "I'm so glad Kent decided to find you. Come by and see her anytime you want. If she starts to decline really fast, we can text you if you want."

"Please do," I said and then I went over to my mother and took her hand once more. "I'm going now, mother, but I'll be back to see you on my break. Try to relax." I squeezed her hand and looked in her eyes. "I love you." But I saw no response. Just confusion.

"See you later," I said to them and left, needing to get out of the room as quickly as possible or I was going to start tearing up again.

I made my way to the nursing station and asked to read my mother's chart. I checked it over quickly, noting what meds they were giving her and how she had been since she was admitted. I thanked the nurses and then took the stairs to the ER wing where my office was. I needed a change of scrubs and to get my mind in the proper state for my shift.

After my shower, I went to the ward and checked on my patients from the previous shift who were still in the hospital. First on my rounds was little Nathan, who had made it through the night but was still sedated. I was thankful that he was doing so well. It was one bright spot on an otherwise depressing afternoon.

Once I'd finished seeing my patients from the previous night, I went back to the ER and looked over the roster of patients waiting to be given tests or consults, but I couldn't shake the sense of grief about my mother during the first few hours I was there, despite being kept very busy and relieved that Nathan had survived. Every time I had a five-minute break between patients, as I was washing my hands after leaving a case, while I was waiting for results to come back from the lab, I thought about my mother and what I had learned of her from my new brother and sister.

It was a very long night.

Before I left, as we were sitting around in the staff lounge, decompressing after a long shift, one of the attending physicians was talking about a patient who came in with the police in a very dissociated state.

"We had to restrain him," Lou said, a cup of coffee in his hand. "He threw a punch and just missed me, luckily, or I'd probably be a patient. He was huge."

We all nodded in understanding, for most doctors and nurses had seen similar cases in their time practicing medicine.

"Better keep Drake away from those restraints," Christy said with a snort.

There was a very awkward silence in the room and several of the staff glanced over at me.

I froze, cup of coffee in hand, and wondered how to handle this. Christy hadn’t said anything to me since that encounter in the parking lot when she chased me out of the build to warn me about my behavior.

At first, I said nothing, because what could I say? That it was none of her business? It was public knowledge. I couldn't deny it.

"Don't worry yourself, Christy," I said dryly. "I wouldn't be using them on you, anyway."

I stood and finished my coffee, crumpling the cup and throwing it into the trash can.

Nick, one of the staff physicians, let out a guffaw of laughter. He held up his cup of coffee to me in a toast and took a drink.

I glanced at Christy, who crossed her arms and harrumphed.

Then I left the room.

I went right to my office and sent off an email to my supervisor, tendering my letter of resignation. I read it over once, changed some wording, and then sent off the email, hoping that I wasn't making a mistake

When I was done, I went back to the medical ward to see my mother.