Chapter Thirty-Four
Theo
The nurse wipes my arm with an alcohol pad and sticks the needle in my vein for the third donation in less than a week. I feel no pain. She hands me the stress ball to squeeze so the blood will continue to flow from my arm into the collection bag. Every time I do this, I am one step closer to passing out.
Within five minutes, sweat already trickles down my face and into my ear.
She places her hand on my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
I shiver. “C-c-c-cold.”
“I need another blanket over here and an Accu-Chek Machine, please.”
Staff hustle around me, while my eyes go in and out of focus. A wave of nausea comes over me. I shake my head and attempt to sit up. The room spins.
“Whoa. Lie back, sir.”
My teeth chatter. “Stella. Gotta… Stella.”
The nurse wraps a blanket around me and places a heated towel over my head. I can’t stop my entire body from shivering.
A physician stands over me. “I’m Dr. Crutchfield. We’re going to admit you to the hospital for observation.”
“No. C-c-c-can’t.”
“Your body can’t handle this anymore. If we don’t intervene, you might go into organ failure.”
Rigors keep me from lying still. “Don’t care.”
“I do. You’re the patient now.”
He raises the bedrails and instructs patient transport to move me to the fifth floor.
“Darla.”
“We’ll let her know where you’ll be.”
“No. Don’t. She’s got t-t-too much going on.”
They wheel me into the elevator. The nurse pricks my finger, while another checks my blood pressure.
“BP is eighty over forty. Glucose is forty-two.”
The doctor and I make eye contact. “Give him Glucagon, one milligram IV.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No.” I push the nearest person back. “Leave me alone.”
“You know your low blood sugar keeps you from thinking clearly. Lie still.”
They wheel my bed into a room, and I take another swing, this time hitting the doctor in the side.
“Theo, we want to help you. Your brother’s here.”
Tommy stands in the doorway.
I don’t care if he’s concerned. He needs to go. “Get out of here.”
He steps closer to my bed. “Hey now, let them take care of you.”
I rip the blood pressure cuff off my arm. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Get the hell out of my way.”
Tommy’s strong arms slam me back down on the bed, pinning me in place. “Yep, your sugar’s too low. It’s the only time you’re an asshole.”
I struggle beneath his grip without any success. “Wish I could say the same for you, you lousy piece of—”
“Now, now. I’ll let you get in a few jabs later, but right now…” He rams his forearm across my chest and takes my chin in his other hand, forcing me to eyeball him. “Theo.” He lowers his voice. “You’re sick, brother. Let them take care of you.”
A tear trickles down my face. “Stella.”
“She’s in good hands. You get better, because you’ll do nobody any good dead.”
A pin pricks my arm, and a warm solution fills my vein.
“Breathe.”
“Can’t. You’re on my chest.”
He chuckles and releases his grip on me. He runs his hands through his hair.
“Mom.”
“She’s on the way.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. No matter how old I am, I’ll always feel better if my mother is with me when I’m sick.
“When’s the last time you had some food?”
I close my eyes. The thought of food makes my stomach flip over. “I don’t know, and please don’t use the F word. I might puke all over you.”
The nurse wraps the blood pressure cuff on my arm again and pumps it up. She releases the air and takes the stethoscope out of her ears. “Pressure is one hundred over sixty. Pulse is ninety.”
“Is that good or bad?” Tommy asks me.
“Better.”
“Glucose is sixty.”
Tommy sighs. “I know that’s better.” He collapses into a chair next to my bed. “That hasn’t happened in years. I hate it when that happens.”
My heart isn’t racing anymore, and it’s becoming easier to breathe. I’m actually able to form sentences again. Thank God Glucagon kicks in within minutes.
“I don’t know what your problem is. This is fun… not.”
He pops open a bottle of orange juice and takes a swig. “At least you’re getting your sense of humor back.”
I hold out my hand. “Give me that.”
He holds the orange juice just out of reach. I lean over to get it, and he moves it out of my reach. “Tommy, give it. I’m tethered to the IV pole. Come on.”
“Say please.”
“Tommy, give him the OJ,” Mom says, standing in the doorway.
He has to juggle the bottle to keep from dropping it. “Oh, hi, Mom.” He hands me the bottle.
She leans down and kisses my forehead. “Cold and clammy.”
I close my eyes and finish the rhyme she taught me when I was little. “Need some candy. Hot and dry—”
“Sugar too high,” Tommy says. “And my work here is done. Now, I have to be the hero and donate some blood for your sorry ass.” He pops me on the leg and winks at me.
Mom gives him the evil eye.
He holds his hands out in front of him. “I’m kidding.” He scoots out of the room before Mom pushes him out.
Mom swipes my hair out of my eyes and wags her finger at me. “No more blood donations.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Tommy and your dad will donate if she needs it. Your body can’t handle it anymore. And I won’t let you.”
I can’t meet her gaze. She’s right, but it makes me feel helpless. “It’s the only thing I can do.”
She cups my cheeks in her hands. “I’ll never forget when you were first diagnosed. You were so sick, and we didn’t know what was going on. I thought you were going to die.” She swallows hard. “When the doctors figured it out, I was ready to donate my pancreas so you would be all right.”
My mother is a saint. I hit the jackpot when it came to getting the best mother in the world. I know she would do anything for me and for the rest of us. Maybe that’s what being a mother is.
“Don’t tell Darla.”
She leans back and sits beside me on the bed. She holds my cold, clammy hand. “She’d want to know. I try to stay out of all you kids’ love lives, but Darla is a keeper. I know you two have some things to work out, but I can tell by the way you watch her every move… You never looked at Mallory that way. You need each other right now, and she needs to know what’s going on with you.”
“She’s got enough to worry about.” And I’m still pissed at her. The nerve of her getting all in my face about that stupid game when she admitted she knew I was at Johns Hopkins all this time. She could have told me about Stella at any point, but she chose not to.
“Son, she can handle it, and you’re going to be here at least overnight. Maybe she can stay up here with you tonight.”
“That’s not a good idea. Besides, she won’t go more than two feet from that waiting room until Stella is better.”
Mom pulls my blanket up to my neck. “You’re probably right about that. Like I said, she’s a keeper.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and makes herself comfortable in the chair next to my bed.
A nurse comes in and hands me a hospital gown to change into. I guess I’m not going anywhere tonight. Careful not to rip the IV out of my arm, the nurse helps me out of my T-shirt. I unzip my jeans and wriggle out of them. The Hangman game and Stella’s picture slide out of the pocket and land on the floor. The nurse hands them to me. I can’t help but beam at the cute face staring back at me. Both of us have to get better so we can get to know each other.
I place the picture on the bedside table and unfold the Hangman game. I stare at the last word of the puzzle, blinking to focus my eyes on the letters. I’m pretty sure the puzzle is supposed to read, “you have a daughter,” but whoever sent this to me must suck at spelling because the letters I’ve been awarded don’t come close to spelling the word “daughter.” The word has the right amount of letters, and it starts with the letter d, but the other letters don’t spell out anything. I rack my brain, trying to figure out who sent this to me now that I know Darla didn’t. Whoever it was meant well. He or she wanted to make sure I didn’t miss another opportunity with Darla, and that someone knew the best way to get me motivated was a good old-fashioned game. And it worked.
My money is on Tommy. He had to be working with someone who had the inside scoop on Darla’s schedule, but this smells like something he would do, especially if he knew about Stella. That doesn’t put him back on my friend list, but maybe it shows he might have felt a tad bit guilty for knowing something so important and not telling me.
Not that it matters anymore. Darla kept Stella from me all these years, and now she has the nerve to be mad at me over a stupid game, one I thought she was sending me in the first place. We can have this pissing match as much as we want, but it doesn’t change the fact that Stella may die.
I’ll do everything in my power to keep that from happening.