By Friday, Saylor was so sick I was afraid she was too sick for her treatment, but she managed to find the strength to tell me to help her get dressed, that she was going. So I did. And that included putting on her purple wig.
When we got to the hospital, the report from the doctor was good, even though Saylor was anything but. Since she hadn’t been prone to any infection, or had yet to be hospitalized, they felt confident that her body was responding well to the treatment.
But it’s Monday and we are at the emergency room at UMC. Saylor came down with a fever earlier today and when I called Dr. Zi, he said to bring her in. I’m watching her sleep and listening to the monitor around her beep while they pump her body with antibiotics and fluids. She’s lost a total of fourteen pounds and it shows. She looks small and fragile, almost lifeless. And the good doctor just informed me that things are fixing to get worse.
We are moved to a room and they assure me she will be fine while I run home to get clothes, toiletries and, of course, Saylor’s diary. I call Donnawayne and Jeffery to let them know, giving them the doctor’s orders that her visitors have to wear masks, gloves, and gowns. Then I call Shady and inform him of where I am and ask him to let Rookie and Carrie know.
I’m gone only an hour, but I can hear Saylor’s cries when I step off the elevator. I’m down the hall and through the door in half a second, ignoring everyone in the room but the woman who is crying my name.
“I’m here,” I say, and to confirm it, I push my lips against hers and rub her head. When she sees me, smells me, and tastes me, she instantly relaxes.
“I don’t know what happened,” a panicked orderly says. “I was just checking her vitals and she woke up and asked for you. I told her I didn’t know where you were, but I’d see if we had your number. Then she became hysterical.”
I’m listening to the woman, but I’m talking to Saylor. Telling her over and over that I’m here and I’m not leaving. I explain to her where I went and that I wasn’t gone for long, and that I’ll tell her before I ever step out of the room again.
“I didn’t know where I was,” she whispers, running her hands over my face and arms.
“You were out of it when we left the house. I should have told you.” I lean over the bed, kissing her, whispering to her and rubbing her smooth head until she falls back to sleep. By the time I stand, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
Dr. Zi comes in later and tells me that her white blood count is up and she has a yeast infection in her oral, vaginal, and anal areas, and that is what is causing most of her discomfort. I didn’t know she had any discomfort because she hasn’t complained. When I tell him this, he only nods in understanding and says that they will keep her until it is cleared up, but he can’t promise that it won’t come back.
It’s Tuesday and I open my eyes to find someone dressed in a gown, mask, and gloves standing at the door. When I see his boots, I know it’s Shady.
“Hey, you,” I hear, and both our heads turn to find Saylor sitting up in bed, smiling. Her color is back, her voice is clearer than I’ve heard it in days, and her eyes are bright green and shining.
Shady walks up and kisses her head, but all I can do is lay here and stare at her. She looks incredible. When her eyes meet mine, her smile widens and for the first time in days, I’m smiling too. I go to the bed and kiss her good morning before going to take a shower. When I come back, she is eating. It’s only Jell-O, but at least it’s something.
“How come you don’t have to wear this shit?” Shady asks, looking down at his ridiculous fucking wardrobe.
“I’m special,” I say simply. He looks to Saylor and she nods in agreement.
“He’s special.”
The truth is that since I’m her primary caregiver, I’m exposed to her as much as she is to me. Dr. Zi seems to think that if I had anything, she would have caught it by now, and since I haven’t left her side since she’s been sick, I haven’t had the chance to be exposed to anything that could potentially hurt her.
Then he tells me that Saylor said she wanted to see my face, that it was what kept her pushing on. I’m sure it was just a tactic she used to try and keep him from making me wear it, afraid of what I might say. She had nothing to worry about. I would’ve worn a fucking pink jumpsuit if it was required. Thank fuck it’s not.
The rest of Tuesday was good. Wednesday, we had even more visitors including Donnawayne and Jeffery, who accessorized their gowns with jewelry and paper bows. Surprisingly, I found it funny.
Rookie and Carrie came, bringing in a big basket of junk food that I knew wouldn’t last long with Shady around. But I had managed to salvage all the Skittles. After everyone left, Saylor asked me to lay with her. So I am.
“I didn’t get a chance to write in my diary Monday. Will you do it for me?” she asks, laying on my arm while I flip channels on the TV.