“How is she?” I ask as Jett takes my hand and Dennis grips my shoulder.
“The surgery went really well. Your mom was a trooper. She’s steady and in recovery. Unfortunately, the lesion has no connection to her stuttering, so I’m afraid she’s stuck with it.”
“That’s fine. As long as she’s okay,” I rush out.
“While the surgery went without a hitch, she’ll still need physical, occupational, and speech therapy.” God, I try not to think about the cost. She’s alive. She’s fine. Plus, this is right up my alley. I can help her through most of it, at least the physical part. “She’ll need to stay in the hospital for several more days so we can monitor her.”
“What side effects can we expect?” I ask.
“It will take her months to recover, but she’s young and strong. I’m confident she’ll get through it in no time. But look for weakness on the right side, numbness, possibly more speech problems, and cognitive issues. It’s a possibility, not a definitive outcome. She’ll need to see me between one and two weeks with regular check-ups. The good news is that this surgery should improve her quality of life and help her live longer.”
It’s going to be a lot of work between taking care of mom and my job. But I’ll do it.
Dennis must read my mind, because he says, “We’ll help. Mike and I will come over a few times a week.”
“Definitely,” Mike says.
“Thanks, guys.” My heart swells for these two men.
“Don’t forget about me. I’ll be here,” Teddy says.
Jett squeezes my hand. “As will I, baby.”
My eyes water at all the support. It’s almost overwhelming.
“When can we see her?” I ask the doctor.
“She’ll need a few hours to rest. Then we need to run a couple of tests on motor function, level of consciousness, reflexes, and such. We recommend that you go home, then come back to see her after twenty-four to forty-eight hours. A nurse will reach out when she’s out of the ICU.”
“Thank you for everything, Dr. Hudson.”
He nods, smiles, and walks off.
Jett pulls me into a hug. “We’ll get you and your grandparents through this.”
“Thanks so much, babe,” I rasp, my emotions finally spilling over now that I know she’ll be okay.
He holds me for what feels like forever before he eases me back. “Let’s get you all home, then I’ll go out and grab everyone some dinner.”
“I’ll go with you,” Mike says.
“I love you,” I tell Jett.
He cups my face and pulls me into a quick kiss. “I love you, too.”
Two days later, we’re back at the hospital. God, I was fucking tense the entire time, desperate to see her. When they finally let us back into her recovery room after moving from the ICU, everyone let me see her first.
According to her neurosurgeon, she’s doing really well.
I step into her room, and my heart just breaks. Her eyes are swollen and bruised. I can’t tell if she’s sleeping. After pulling the chair next to her bed, I sit and take her hand, careful of her IV.
“Hi, Mom,” I whisper.
Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles tiredly. “W-Wes…” she mumbles.
Relief floods me that she knows who I am. I couldn’t help but have doubts despite what the doctor said.
While I waited impatiently to see her, I did a lot of research on her case, refreshing my memory on how to help her through physical therapy. I’ll come to Cannon Beach every weekend if I have to. I can’t be her primary PT because she’s family, and it could affect insurance, but I’ll still be there to guide her and check on her.
