The sun was setting by the time I opened my eyes. Alexa had taken Beck to the mall to shop for yet another new dress, and I’d passed out on the couch after finishing my drink and the argument with her. Sitting up, I ran my fingers through my hair. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Alexa had planned to go to a party tonight. God forbid she miss a party, especially New Year’s Eve. I’d given her more credit than she deserved in the selflessness department, apparently.
My stomach growled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually eaten. Yesterday, maybe? Dinner at that Italian place in between the morning and afternoon wake sessions at the funeral parlor, I think. Rummaging through the refrigerator, I took out the platter we’d ordered for this morning and picked at the antipasto with my fingers. As I was stuffing my face, my cell phone started to ring, and at first, I ignored it. But after it immediately began ringing again, I reached over to check the caller ID. It was a local number—one that was very familiar. By the third ring, my brain had searched my internal phonebook and finally recalled why I knew it.
I’d dialed it off and on for the last few months, each time my father’s health took a turn for the worse. Lenox Hill Hospital was calling.
The cab driver screamed at me as I bolted toward the emergency room entrance. Apparently, I’d gotten out in such a rush, I’d forgotten to close the car door.
“My wife and son were in a car accident. They were brought in by ambulance,” I yelled through a round hole to the woman behind thick Plexiglas.
“Last name?”
“Jagger.”
She looked up and perked one eyebrow. “Those lips, I have to ask. Any relation to Mick?”
“No.”
She made a face, but pointed at a door to my left. “Room 1A. I’ll buzz you back.”
Blunt abdominal trauma. That’s what the doctor had told us two hours ago. Alexa had needed a few stitches in her head, but Beck wasn’t as lucky. His car seat had felt the full impact of the collision when a floral delivery van lost its brakes and ran a red light into moving crosstown traffic. He’d swerved to try to avoid the crash, but ended up colliding with the back driver’s side of Alexa’s car. Exactly where Beck had been sitting.
The doctors had assured us his injuries didn’t appear to be life threatening, but an ultrasound showed there was damage to his left kidney—at least a small nick that needed to be repaired right away. I was now waiting for the nurses to bring me consent forms for surgery. Beck slept peacefully as I sat by his bedside. Alexa was getting another neurological exam in the room next to us.
After the doctor came in and told me the risks of the procedure, the nurse brought me in a stack of forms to fill out. Medical consent, privacy act, insurance authorizations, the last form was for directed blood transfusions.
The nurse explained that there wasn’t time before Beck’s surgery to collect blood from us, so in the off-chance he needed blood, he’d be given blood from the blood bank. However, we could donate our blood and store it for him for future use, if necessary. I filled out the form to get typed and cross-matched while we waited and asked the nurse to have Alexa sign everything next door. I didn’t want to leave Beck alone in case he woke up.
The next few hours were hell while my son was in surgery. It took two hours for the assistant surgeon to come out and speak with us. He pulled a paper mask down.
“Things aren’t quite as simple as we’d initially thought. The damage to your son’s kidney was more extensive than the CT showed. Right now we’re attempting to repair the laceration, but the tear is surrounding the vascular pedicle, which contains the arteries and veins that connect it to the aorta. I need you to understand that there’s a chance we won’t be able to make the repair well enough to safely leave the kidney inside your son’s body. If that’s the case, he’ll need to undergo a partial or full nephrectomy.”
He attempted to convince us that having one kidney was perfectly fine. I knew plenty of people only had one, but if we were born with two, I wanted my son to get the benefit of both, if at all possible.
Alexa and I had barely talked, other than my making sure she was okay. I was focused on Beck, and part of me blamed her for the accident. Not that it was her fault, but if she hadn’t been so concerned with buying another damn dress to go out tonight, none of this would have happened.
“I saw a machine down by the elevators. You want some coffee?”
Alexa nodded.
When I returned with two coffees, the nurse was already talking to Alexa. “Oh, Mr. Jagger. Here’s your blood card. It has your type on it if you should ever need it. We give it to everyone we run for blood donations.”
“Thank you. Am I a compatible donor with Beck?”
“Let me see his chart.” She walked to the foot of the bed where a metal chart was hanging. As she flipped through pages she said, “You’re type O negative, so that means you can give blood to anyone.” She stopped at a pink page. “You’re lucky. It’s not often a stepfather is a universal donor.”
“I’m his father, not his stepfather.”