“I know it’s your work time, and I’m sorry to ask you … but today, I have to go sit with John. Everyone else is zonked out. If no one makes it back to take over, you might have to bring Sophie to the hospital, so I can nurse her in the waiting room.” I had a shawl for just such occasions, folded tightly in Sophie’s diaper bag. I thought of Robin’s absentmindedness (no keys had turned up, and no sweater).
“I think I’ll take the diaper bag with me,” I said. I felt like a camel when I carried both the bag and my purse, so leaving one at home would halve my burden. The green-and-white-striped bag, with its designer logo, looked a lot nicer than my purse, I had to admit. I tucked my driver’s license in one of the diaper bag’s many outer pockets.
“Sure,” Robin said. “I’ll put her in her bouncy thing right by my desk. We’ll do great, won’t we, Madame President?” I followed him to his office to watch him strap Sophie in.
Sophie had begun to conquer the bouncer seat. Sure enough, now she began flinging her arms and legs to make it move up and down. Our baby had learned something!
She was beyond cute. I swooped down to give her a kiss on her soft cheek, and stretched up to give Robin one on his wonderful mouth, and then I was out the door, bag slung over my shoulders. My hair resembled a bunch of streamers going in all different directions, but today that didn’t seem important. I was wearing my green-framed glasses, which hardly seemed appropriate for the ICU … but they did match the bag.
This morning, the hospital parking lot was not as crowded as it would be later in the day. As I approached the main door, my shoulders grew tight. The minute I walked through the automatic doors I would find myself back in a fog of unhappy memories. I gritted my teeth and forced a smile to my lips.
The elevator doors whooshed open at the ICU floor, and I waved at the nurse at the duty station as I walked by. They all knew us by now. The door to John’s room was ajar. I stood by the bed for a minute or two, searching his face, hoping something had changed. Maybe his color was a little better? I sighed, and took the more comfortable chair. I’d left my crossword puzzle book and a magazine here on the previous visit. I’d tucked a paperback into the diaper bag. I was all fixed for a couple of hours or more.
Nurse Deedee Powers (chiefly responsible for John on this shift) had written her name on the dry-erase board in John’s room. Every shift, the primary nurse wiped out the previous name and entered her own. I found it reassuring to know who was in charge. I stepped out to get an update from Deedee. By now, we were on a first-name basis.
“The doctor’s already been by,” Deedee told me. “He talked to your mom and Avery.” She was not callous, but she was brisk. This was her everyday work environment: caring for people very ill or close to death, talking to their relatives or loved ones, carrying out the doctor’s orders.
John’s ICU room was as quiet—but busy—as ever. Cleaners and nurses and lab workers, the food-tray deliveryman, all came in and out of the room. The pink-smocked volunteer lady with the cart of books and newspapers stuck her head in and whispered, “Do you need something to read?” I raised my book in answer, and she nodded and vanished. Other patients’ visitors passed the doorway regularly. Their faces, too, had become familiar. There was the very old man who walked with a cane, and a familiar-looking woman in her sixties who looked more worn down every day. This morning, the weary-looking woman whose child was two doors down was crying as she walked by.
I shuddered. There was too much pain here. I had to block it out. Thank God I had a good book.
I was the lucky recipient of John’s allocated lunch tray, which of course he couldn’t eat. The corn bread was dry. The banana pudding was okay. The grapes were a little rubbery, but still had a good flavor. The meat, which might have been beef, and the vegetables (overcooked to the maximum) were better left untouched.
At least I no longer felt guilty about my extravagant breakfast.
I finished my book. I was getting stiff, so I walked around the ICU for a few circuits. I paused at each big window to look out at the parking lot at the front, or at the quieter employee lot and utility buildings at the back. Then I resumed my watch in John’s room. I began to work on a crossword puzzle, glancing up at John’s silent figure from time to time. When I got bored with that (when I got stuck), I closed my eyes and tried to meditate, but I have never been good at letting go of myself. Before very long I abandoned the meditation and started flipping through the magazine I’d left. I didn’t have to remember a plot if I was studying red-carpet dresses worn by women I didn’t know.
Even celebrity gossip palled. I laid the magazine on the wheeled table beside my chair. I simply looked at John.
I recalled introducing him to my mother. She’d been dubious at first. John had some interests she didn’t share. But John’s pleasant manners and intelligence had gradually won her over; plus (truth be told) John was a good-looking man.
I smiled as I thought of this. And since I was watching John, I saw his eyelids flicker.
I leaped to my feet, knocking all my reading material to the floor. “John!” I said, trying to keep my voice low and even. But I couldn’t suppress my excitement.
The muscles in his cheeks and lips moved as if he were trying to form a word. I was sure he heard me and knew who I was.
He whispered, “Roe.”
Then Nurse Deedee hurried in and blocked him from my sight. Some reading on his monitor had changed. When she moved to the side, I could see his eyes had closed again, but there were muscles moving under the skin.
My mother would never forgive me if I didn’t tell her about this development. John had spoken! I wanted to stay in the room, because John might talk to me again, but I couldn’t phone from ICU.
Deedee made the decision for me. She “asked” me to leave while she did something personal for John.
I raced out of the ICU, cell phone in hand, and took the elevator to the lobby. I punched my mother’s speed dial. I could tell she was awake—either again, or she’d never slept. “Mother! His eyes opened! Just for a minute! He said my name!” I told her.
“I’m on my way.”
I returned to John’s room, feeling nothing but excitement and happiness. This development was more than I’d ever hoped for. Deedee had left. John and I were alone again.
I stood by the bed watching him. His eyes flickered open once or twice, and he always looked directly at my face.
After ten minutes had passed, Mother appeared at the other side of John’s bed. She wasn’t there, and then she was. She looked like hell, but there was some hope on her face. She took his hand. “Honey,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m here.” John heard her and knew her. His fingers moved slightly in hers, and he smiled for a moment.
When I glanced at my watch, I realized it was time for me to return to Sophie. If Mother was sitting with John now, maybe I could go home, feed her there, and avoid the awkwardness of public breast-feeding. But I didn’t want to leave Mother alone, since I didn’t know what would happen if and when John returned to full consciousness. I assumed he would be in a lot of pain, and possibly very anxious.