Page 53 of Relapse

Chelsea leapt up, stretching her arms.

“Well, let’s go down to the vending machine and get you something. They have Starbucks iced mochas, water, and juice. You need to stretch your legs anyhow. You’ve been in this room for hours.”

I glanced at my mom. “I don’t know, Chelsea, the nurse is coming in for a neuro check soon.”

“We will be quick, I promise. Come on, I’ve got my card.”

I stood from my position on the couch, reluctantly. “I just don’t want to miss what the nurse has to tell me, okay?”

Chelsea nodded. “Got it.”

I stared at my mom, watching her chest heave for a moment, before a sense of urgency overtook me. Part of me really wanted to go, even for just a quick trip down the hallway to stretch my legs from the all day sitting position they had grown accustomed to. Something about it, although I wasn’t sure what, was telling me that everything would be okay.

I trusted that feeling, and exited the room with Chelsea.

Our journey down the hallway was short. We exited the ICU without even having to ask the nurses station to buzz me out—they were already so familiar with me coming and going. A few right corner turns and we’d found the waiting area, stuffed full with a few families, each waiting their turns to see their loved ones. Some praying. Some silent. All hoping for good news.

I wondered how many of them would have what they wished for.

There was a man in front of us at the vending machine. He seemed to be thinking extraordinarily hard about the beverage choices before him. Chelsea tapped her foot impatiently, but said nothing. Another win for her, in my book.

I knew she was thinking similarly to me though. That the man wasn’t moving quickly enough, and that she didn’t want to be the cause of us missing mom’s night nurses.

“Coffee? Or water?” she asked as we waited for the machine to vend the stranger’s drink.

“Water is fine.”

“And how about a snack? They’ve got sandwiches in that machine over there!”

“I am not very hungry.”

“So, chips and random candy it is. To hold us over through the night.”

Our turn. Chelsea bought two waters. We watched the fancy machine slide a holder up to each one and bring it down, like a hand grabbing within and gently ushering it to a little door on the side for us to collect. Nothing like the old machines I was used to, the ones that just kerplunked the item down, forcing you to sift through the metal barricade at the bottom to pick it up.

Chelsea walked over to the other machine to analyze the snacks. CheezIts caught her eye as well as something else. I wasn’t exactly sure, but in total, it took her only about 4 minutes.

We were about to head back through the doors when the lady at the front desk perked to attention.

“Ms. Marsh? The RN was just looking for you.”

I scrambled forward. “I am sorry, I just stepped out to get some water.”

The woman said nothing else, just opened the large double doors for us to enter back into the ICU. I entered hastily, Chelsea following close behind.

I think I knew something was wrong the moment we turned the corner toward my mom’s room. Two nurses were standing outside the door, their eyes scanning the hallway like they’d been waiting. They were searching for me.

I slowed my steps and walked towards them carefully, almost cautiously, as if I hadn’t spent the last several days living inside that room. As if I were an outsider now. As if I didn’t belong to the space where my mother lay fighting for breath.

“Hi, I’m back,” I said softly, my voice barely strong enough to reach them.

One of the nurses looked at me, and in her expression I saw it immediately—pity. Not the gentle kind. The kind that settles deep into the eyes, like sand settling on the bottom of the ocean right before the next wave intends to hit.

No one had to say anything. But their looks told me all I needed to know.

This was the end.

“Ms. Marsh,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Please come in and take a seat.”