DRAKE

I stopped in to check on my mother before my shift started.

She was alone in a rare moment when her family was either taking a coffee break or was on their way to the hospital. Her room was quiet and she was laying with her head turned to the window. I wasn't sure if she was asleep so I walked in quietly, just in case.

I sat on the other side of her bed and waited, not wanting to wake her up. Her hands had been restrained with soft fabric restraints. She must have been pulling at her IV. I checked and I could see they'd wrapped her arm where she must have torn out the previous IV. They started another in her other arm and restrained her.

No matter what she had done to me, I still hated to see her that way – incoherent, confused, and panicking. She was still my mother and I did have fond memories of her from long ago. I remembered sitting on her lap when I was very young, listening to her read to me from her favorite children's books – Winnie the Pooh, Lightfoot the Deer and other books she was read as a child. I remembered her caring for me when I was sick and had whatever virus was going around. I remembered her baking special cookies for me and sitting with me after school while I ate them and drank my milk.

It was my father I rarely saw. He was the one away at the hospital for hours and hours. He was the one to hop on a plane and fly to some far-flung African community to do surgery for free. He was the one working late in his garage on his car or in his office, perfecting the design of a new surgical tool.

My mother was always there – until she wasn't.

Then, she was gone from my life without a word. My father told me that she left suddenly but that she had been unhappy for months, perhaps years he finally admitted. He blamed himself and said that instead of turning to her for comfort with his own pain and loss over Liam's death, he turned to his work.

He became a workaholic who failed to see my mother's emotional decline and distance. He had no idea she was suicidal. She put on the best face she could and kept on going through the motions but her heart and mind were no longer with us.

When she left, that was it. My dad sat me down at the kitchen table and said that my mother had gone away and would probably not ever come back.

I felt, as all children do, that she left because of me. That I was a bad boy and that if I had only been better, if I had only tried harder, she would have stayed and loved me more.

So much of my adolescence, teen years and adulthood had been spent looking for a way to work out my deep-seated trauma from her leaving me.

I stopped trusting. Everyone.

To adapt, I followed my father's example and worked extra hard at everything, trying to compensate for my feelings of inadequacy by achieving more than everyone else. I was the youngest graduate in my high school and the youngest – at the time – college student and then medical student. I was the youngest neurosurgeon.

None of it was enough.

My mother stirred on the bed and so I stood up and went to the other side and saw that her eyes were open.

"Hello, mother," I said, despite the fact she didn't know me – or might not remember. "It's me, Drake."

I took her hand and held it in mine, then leaned down and kissed her cheek.

She didn't pull away, but I saw no recognition in her eyes.

"Doctor, doctor, doctor..." was all she managed.

I glanced down to see my scrubs and my stethoscope around my neck. Of course, she would think I was there as a doctor.

"How are you?" I said, deciding not to push the whole Drake business with her, since she clearly didn't recognize me or understand what I'd said to her. "Are you feeling better? You look better."

I checked her pulse and found it was stronger than it had been before. Her O2 was better – still not perfect, but improving with oxygen. She was a bit raspy, her occasional cough wet, but she seemed less agitated than she had earlier in the morning. She must have slept.

I sat like that for probably fifteen more minutes before Herb and Kent arrived. They had coffee cups in hand from the hospital's cafeteria.

"Drake," Kent said and gave me a nod. "I thought you might drop by before your shift. I hope you got some sleep."

"I'm fine. I'm used to working with little sleep."

"You doctors," Herb said. "You're used to torturing yourselves."

He smiled and then, I saw a look pass over his face and I wondered if he only then thought about my background in the BDSM community. Did he know about my past? About the trial? No doubt he wouldn't understand the difference between the SM and BD side of things. There was nothing to be done about it, so I merely smiled back.

"Medical school is hell, being a resident is even more hell, and being a specialist means you never get much of a break, especially if your specialty is rare and in demand."

"I can imagine," he said.

"She seems better," I said. "I didn’t check in with the nurses because they were on a report before the shift change, but I will on the way out. How does she seem to you?"

"Better," Herb said and took my place at my mother's side when I stepped away. He bent down and kissed her on the lips and she seemed to recognize him at least and kissed him back.

"That's my girl," Herb said, squeezing her hand. "You remember me, don't you, sugarplum. It's me, your husband Herb."

She whispered something and he bent down to listen. When he stood up, he shook his head sadly and turned to me.

"Can't make anything out, I'm afraid. But she does recognize me. I can tell. She wouldn't let me kiss her otherwise."

I felt so bad for him and couldn’t imagine how I'd feel if Kate was to stop knowing who I was. It would break me in two.

"She may, but just can't vocalize it because of the disease."

"I think so," he replied.

I watched them for a moment and then checked my watch. "Well, I better get to the ER. My shift starts soon and I want to check on my patients from yesterday first. I'll drop by on my break and see how she's doing."

"Thanks, Drake" Herb said and came to me, his hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry you had to meet your mother again in these circumstances. I wish we had tried sooner to contact you, but just weren't sure if it was a good idea to bring it all up at the time."

"No, that's fine. I understand completely. I'm just so glad that Kent did decide to contact me. It means the world to me to finally see her again. I wasn't sure I would want to, but no matter what happened, she's my mother. I love her."

Tears filled my eyes and Herb put his hand on my arm. "We all do. She's loved."

I forced a smile and then kissed her cheek, even though I was sure she had no idea who I was, and then I left the room, wiping my eyes quickly.

I went to the nursing station before I went to the ER and looked over my mother's chart, to check and see what changes there had been during the time I was away. She had steadily improved, although her condition was still guarded. Satisfied that she was doing as well as could be expected, I left the ward and made my way to the ER, stopping to change into something fresh before my shift. I was happy to be as busy as possible for the next twelve hours, so the time would pass quickly and I wouldn't worry too much about my mother.

Luckily, the cases I had to consult came fast with little time between them and so I didn't look up from my work until it was time for my first break. At seven o'clock, I left the ER and went to the cafeteria, grabbed a sandwich and a drink, and ate on the way to my mother's ward. I didn't stop into the staff lounge. I could only imagine what would greet me if I did – my fellow staffers would no doubt be talking about my resignation. I still hadn't had the chance to talk to my supervisor about it, but expected I would at some point in the evening.

My mother was resting quietly and had been feed, and had eaten a bit of pudding and drank some liquid protein. It was good because if she hadn't, they would have to tube feed her and that would only add to her stress.

I spoke with Amanda for a moment and then said hello to my mother. She was as confused as before, willingly taking my hand, but not being able to say anything sensible. I said goodbye and left after only a few moments, because I didn't want to intrude too much into their lives.

"Please, Drake, feel free to come back and visit any time you want," Amanda said. "Honestly, it's good to have you here. You can check over her chart and let us know how she's doing."

"You don't trust your doctor?" I said, frowning.

"No, it's not that. It's just that doctors tend to sugarcoat the worst news and downplay the best. At least, in my experience. You can tell us straight how she's doing."

I shrugged. "It's really just a matter of personal preference how a physician chooses to communicate with his or her patients. I think she's doing better than yesterday, but she's still sick. She's been rehydrated, and her oxygen sats are better, but she still has an infection. If this new combination of antibiotics is going to work, we should start seeing more profound improvement by tomorrow."

'Thanks for coming by and letting us know," Amanda said. She gave me a quick hug, and I left to go back to the ER.

I did stop by the staff room on my way there, to pick up a fresh cup of coffee, and there were several staff sitting on the two sofas in the seating area. When they saw me, conversation stopped and heads turned.

"Hey, Drake," Nick, one of the staff physicians said. He left the group and came to stand beside me in the alcove where the coffee machine was located. "We heard you've tendered your resignation. I hope it's not because of Christy. She's a busybody of the worst kind."

I turned and had to decide whether I wanted to talk to him about it or just write it off and not say a word. Nick had always been a nice person to me so I didn't want to be rude. It wasn't because of him that I was leaving.

"It's not just Christy," I said and stirred my coffee. "I have a lot going on right now. I need some sanity and the long shifts were taking me away from family. But thanks for the heads-up on Christy."

"No problem," Nick said. "I speak for a number of us. We'll be sad to see you go and especially if Christy's big mouth had anything to do with it."

"It really isn’t primarily Christy. My mother's very sick and right now, my priority is to spend time with her in case she doesn't recover."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

I nodded and put the lid on my coffee. "Thanks. And thanks for the kind words. Now, I've got to get back to the ER."

"Cheers," Nick said and raised his coffee cup.

I smiled and left the staff room, making my way down the hallways to the ER. For the rest of my shift, I tried to focus my entire attention on my cases, and tried hard not to notice any quiet conversations taking place just out of my earshot and the surreptitious glances at me from the nursing staff.

In the end, I was glad I made my decision to quit my position. I could feel the weight of responsibility sliding off my shoulders as the end of my shift neared. I'd be able to spend all my time with Kate and Sophie, and with my mother – at least until she recovered or died.

When my shift was finished, I stopped in to my mother's room and checked on her. It was just after three in the morning and the ward was quiet. She was sleeping, her breathing easier, and for the first time, I felt some hope that she was in fact getting over the infection. If so, it would be wonderful. Even if she was in the later stages of Alzheimer's, I would get a chance to see her, talk to her if not with her, and of course, meet my other brothers.

I left the hospital with a sense of relief, and happy to face five full days off before I'd finish the month off with one last five-day shift cycle.

Then, I would be completely free to spend as much time as I wanted on my family – all of them.

I couldn't wait to get home to my own family, to Kate and Sophie, and as I drove along the highway back to our house, I felt relief that my mother just might survive.

After I parked the car in our driveway, and made my way inside, shutting on the alarm system and taking a quick shower, I walked to our bedroom and stood beside the bed. Kate was alone in the bed, so I went to Sophie's room and saw her lying on her back, her eyes open and her pacifier in her mouth. When I saw her eyes, I thought I should step back so she didn't see me, but I was too late and she latched onto me with her baby blues.

She waved her arms excitedly and rolled over, crawling over to the side of the crib.

"Hey, baby," I said and picked her up. "You're awake."

I rocked her, hoping I could put her back into her crib without taking her into our bed, but soon, Kate showed up in the doorway.

"I already tried," Kate said, smiling at me. "I put her in her crib about fifteen minutes ago. I must have fallen asleep."

"I blew it, in other words."

"You know what they say – let sleeping dogs and babies lie. Why don't you bring her into our bed? She'll fall back asleep soon enough.

"Okay," I said, "but I was hoping for alone time with mommy."

Kate laughed lightly. She led the way back down the hall to our bedroom. "You're going to have to wait until tomorrow night for that."

"Are Elaine and Dad going to take her overnight?"

Kate crept into bed and I put Sophie down on the bed between us.

"Yes," Kate said and pulled covers up over us. "They know you'll want to spend time at the hospital and that we need time together."

"Good," I said and kissed Sophie. The three of us snuggled down and soon, Sophie's eyes were closing and she fell asleep. I watched Kate as she snuggled down more deeply in the bed. She fell back asleep quickly but for me, sleep was a long time in coming.