9
I felt my eyes grow heavy as I sat in the recliner that had been placed in the corner of Rosie’s hospital room. However, as soon as I got close to sleep, some beep or boop would be emitted from the machines surrounding my little girl’s bed, and I would spring awake, my heart thumping.
I was exhausted. I hadn’t truly slept in days and felt at times both over-fueled by adrenaline and as lethargic as if I had been trying to run underwater. This must be what torture by sleep deprivation felt like. I would honestly sell my soul to the highest bidder if it meant that I would get more than an hour of sleep at a time.
Of course, it wasn’t as if I didn’t have people around me telling me to take care of myself. Lucy, Rosie’s pediatrician, Dr. Ryan, various shift nurses—they all told me I needed to sleep, and I knew they were right. I understood that I needed to focus on myself, too, but I found it impossible. The stress alone was making my body rigid with anxiety. No matter if I wanted to rest, I felt constantly on. My mind still raced with worry and the never-ending chorus of what-ifs.
Until Rosie started to show signs of any improvement, my life was at a standstill.
After fixing my hair into a more comfortable topknot, I got up from where I sat and walked to her bedside, dropping to a kneel. Her eyes were closed and she was sleeping. They had her on a respirator at the moment because she was having problems breathing due to the pneumonia. I would have given anything to remove the machines and tubes that seemed to engulf her. I wanted her to be awake so I could talk to her and reassure her that she would be OK, but I knew that sleep was good for her and it was what she needed.
Resting my head against the rail of the hospital bed, I felt myself starting to nod off again until I heard someone come into the room.
“Kate?” It was Frances, a friendly nurse I’d come to know in the six days we’d been here.
She checked on my little girl’s condition, but from her chart I already knew there was little to report. They’d taken blood tests on admission to the hospital, which had confirmed pneumonia. As it was, we just had to wait for the antibiotics to do their job.
Wait. It seemed like all I’d been doing this past week.
To my surprise, the nurse took a seat alongside me. “How are you?” she asked, touching my arm. “You know you really should try to—”
“I know. But sleep isn’t easy...”
“I understand. It’s a horrible time, but rest assured we’re doing all we can. Measles, it can be such a nasty business when it takes this course. But, to be honest, it’s a long time since I’ve come across an outbreak in this hospital.”
She paused for a moment and then leaned forward in her chair, clasping her hands in front of her. “I heard that the other little girl from Rosie’s school has since recovered?”
“Apparently so.”
“And there hasn’t been any other cases in the school or in the town apart from Rosie?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not that I know of anyway. Thank goodness.”
Appearing thoughtful, Frances seemed to be studying me. “I understand the reason why Rosie isn’t vaccinated. And I know it was a hard choice that you and your late husband had to make. But do you happen to know why the other little girl wasn’t?”
“I really don’t know the family all that well...” I answered. My head felt foggy.
“No idea if it’s a political position? Something religious perhaps?”
She seemed to be just making idle conversation, but something about her tone of voice made me perk up. I tried to climb through the swamp of gray matter in my head.
“Why do you ask? And what does it matter?”
But the nurse didn’t have time to answer my question, because at that moment Lucy entered the waiting room with Christine Campbell in tow.
Handing over my recent mail as well as some other bits and pieces I needed from the house (my iPad and charger, one of Rosie’s favorite dinosaurs, a random book that had been on my bedside table), I introduced Frances to Lucy and Christine as they took seats on either side of me.
“Christine was really anxious about Rosie,” Lucy supplied when I looked curiously at our new visitor. It was nice of Christine to come, and surprising, too, when I didn’t know her especially well.
But that was one of the positives about living in a small community.
“Oh, you’re all from the same town?” Frances smiled. “I was just asking Kate about that other little girl with measles. Do you know her, too?” she inquired pleasantly.
I shifted uncomfortably. Given that Clara was almost certainly the cause of Rosie’s current trials, I didn’t like to think about the Coopers all that much. While I was happy that little Clara had recovered, I couldn’t deny that I felt a little...jealous, too. That they were the ones with all the luck and resources, as well as having each other to lean on when things were hard. While I had nothing or no one.
Apart from Lucy, of course, who had once again been wonderful. My mother had tried to make arrangements to travel up from Cork, but my dad was poorly with sciatica and, as she didn’t drive, she was relying on a lift from a generous neighbor.
Part of me was almost glad she hadn’t yet managed it. At least I could stay here at the hospital and focus all of my attention on Rosie, without having to think about hosting my mother, too, who suffered from her nerves and, God help her, wasn’t the best in a crisis.
But while I was reticent to discuss the Coopers, Christine was practically jumping in her seat waiting for her turn to speak. “Yes, we do know the family,” she said, her tone barely concealing her disapproval as she pushed her glasses back to the top of her nose.
“Unusual that she wasn’t vaccinated, either, isn’t it?” Frances said conversationally. “Unlucky, too, I suppose.”
“Nothing at all to do with luck,” added Christine with narrowed eyes. “It’s because the girl’s parents—the father in particular—are a pair of sanctimonious lunatics. Tom is one of those conspiracy-theory types,” she added bitterly.
I shot Lucy a look. I was grateful for Christine’s visit, but my daughter’s bedside wasn’t the place for gossip or airing personal grievances.
In turn, my friend apologized with her eyes.
“Christine, like me, the Coopers have just experienced a very scary time, except unlike me, they’ve managed to come out of it OK. Whatever the reasons for their choices, it’s their business. I’m just glad their little girl is better. That’s all that matters.”
Lucy spoke up. “Yes, and also Madeleine has been so concerned about Rosie. She asks about her all the time. The mother and I are friends,” she added for Frances’ benefit.
“Please understand, I’m not trying to gossip,” the nurse went on. “I was just wondering about their reasons; maybe there’s a good reason—”
“Nope. Absolutely not. They knew exactly what they were doing in not vaccinating. And they took the risk anyway. Put all of our children in danger.”
“Christine, please...” Lucy looked mortified.
“I see,” the nurse murmured softly.
“And, Kate, you know my cousin is a solicitor? Well, we were discussing the situation about the Coopers over lunch the other day...and he tells me there is a school of thought that suggests if you decide not to vaccinate your child and another gets seriously ill like Rosie has, you could potentially be held liable.”
I shook my head; was Christine seriously suggesting that I was the one responsible for Rosie’s plight? “Are you saying I’m to blame for this?” I gasped, a bit hysterically.
I looked to Lucy for help, but she wore an expression I couldn’t read. Was it confusion? Or concern? Why couldn’t I follow this conversation?
Jesus, I needed to sleep.
But Christine’s dark eyes were bright and she was shaking her head.
“No, Kate, she’s not suggesting at all that you’re responsible,” Frances put in. “But I think what your friend is suggesting is that the other parents could be. They failed to vaccinate their child. That same child contracted a preventable illness, passing it on to Rosie, who’s since become very ill.”
“What does it matter who’s responsible?” I cried. “Please,” I implored Lucy. “I can’t deal with this. I...I’m not fit for visitors just now. My daughter needs me.”
The nurse stood up. “Kate is right. Perhaps this isn’t the best time...”
I felt myself start to relax just a bit, but Christine wasn’t finished. “But you have to think about this, Kate. I mean, I’m not trying to force your hand or talk you into anything you are uncomfortable with, I just want you to think about it. There was a deliberate choice made. You couldn’t vaccinate Rosie without risking her life. The Coopers weren’t faced with that decision—they just decided not to bother. And don’t forget Madeleine sent Clara to school that morning, knowing she was unwell. This was what my cousin found interesting. Think about it. She doesn’t protect her kids from infectious diseases and then she sends her feverish daughter to school. She deliberately put ours at risk.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It was just unfortunate, just one of those things. And it’s a risk I had to take every day, too, knowing Rosie isn’t protected. It’s just as much my fault as anyone else’s.”
“How can you not see it?” Christine persisted. Lucy put a hand on her arm, trying to quiet her.
“Because nobody does that!” I cried, outraged at the very suggestion. “No parent would ever intend such a thing.”
But amid my protests, the alternative scenario sparked a thought in me.
If Madeleine Cooper, knowing Clara was ill, hadn’t sent her daughter to school that morning, wouldn’t Rosie have avoided getting measles?
And wouldn’t my little girl now be at home making up fearsome scenarios for her dinosaurs, instead of lying in a hospital bed, fighting for breath?