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Sure enough, the young college woman was there in 10 minutes flat, and I ran out the door, hopping in my car and driving toward the hospital. I hated the thought of Emma waking up in the house and wondering where I was, finding only Jenna there with her. But there was no way I was taking her over to the hospital with me, not when she had just gone down to bed, not when she wouldn't understand what was happening, and especially not if Olivia was distraught over her mother's condition.
And especially not if Jeannie wasn't likely to last the night.
It was only as I was driving down the road, almost to the hospital, that I paused to consider what I was doing. Sure, Jeannie was a patient, but it was out of my hands at this point. And lately, she'd been more Dr. Halsey's patient than mine, although I supposed I must still be listed as her primary physician on all of her paperwork, which was why the hospital had called in the first place.
But I knew I wasn't really doing this for Jeannie. The woman was very kind, of course, although very stubborn and frustrating as a patient. I wasn't tearing down the road toward the hospital for her, though; I was doing this for Olivia.
It was strange, but when it came down to it, no matter how much bickering had gone on between Olivia and me, I knew that I couldn't leave her to deal with this on her own. I remembered what it had been like when I'd been at the hospital with Emily, when we'd known that the end was coming. I couldn't leave Olivia to that. And if I showed up and Buck was there, well, I would just have to deal with that.
I nodded a little to myself and parked the car, walking quickly into the emergency room.
Chapter Thirty
Olivia
When Mom started coughing at the dinner table, I thought nothing about it at first. But when those coughs turned into gasps for air, gasps that didn't subside even after she managed to choke down some water, I realized this must be the same thing that had happened last time.
I insisted on driving her to the hospital, even though she tried to tell me that she would be much more comfortable in her bed.
“Don't be ridiculous, Mom,” I told her, frowning as I bundled her into a coat. She was shivering, but although the early summer evening was relatively cool, it wasn't cold enough for her to be shaking that badly.
I frowned, wondering if she was going into shock or something. My fingers itched to pull out my phone and call Eric, but I figured the best course of action was just to get Mom to the hospital as quickly as possible. They'd know what was going on and be able to help her.
There was a selfish part of me that didn't want to know exactly what was going on, either. I wanted to pretend that this was just the same as it had been the last time that she'd gone into the hospital and that after a few days, we'd be headed home again.
I knew it was unlikely that we'd get that lucky again, though.
I'd talked to Dr. Halsey earlier that week, asking if surgery was even still an option. He'd told me that it probably wasn't but that he wouldn't know for sure unless they did another X-ray of Mom's lungs, something that I hadn't been able to convince her to have done.
He'd explained to me that the reason she had felt so much better the last time so that she'd been able to come home from the hospital was likely due to the steroids they gave her to reduce the size of the tumors. Hence, making it easier for her to breathe and lessening her pain as well.
Or at least, that was the way that Dr. Halsey explained it to me.
We were lucky when we got to the hospital: they were able to put her in a private room, and Dr. Halsey happened to be working that night anyway. He took her in immediately for a few tests and then arranged to have her moved into a room, promising to have a long chat with me later.
But I could tell, even without the chat, that things weren't looking good. That much was obvious, based on Mom's wheezing and the concerned looks on the faces of all the nurses and Dr. Halsey. I could tell they were doing their best to make her comfortable, and the whole thing made me want to scream. Finally, they adjusted the bed, in the hopes that if she remained more upright, it would be easier for her to breathe, then I asked them all to leave.
Then, I just sat there at Mom's side, weeping and holding her hand, trying not to think about how this could be the last time I ever saw her. She had to pull through. She just had to.
At the same time, I felt selfish for wanting that. She hadn't let them put her back on painkillers this time, telling them in no uncertain words that she didn't want 'those strange chemicals' pumped back into her body and that she would get through this just fine on her own. She'd even gone so far as to joke that this wasn't as painful as childbirth and that she'd handled that just fine.
But I could see the pain etching faint lines around her eyes, creasing her forehead. I knew that wanting her to stay around for longer could mean that she had to deal with this pain for even longer because her body showed no signs of letting her rest this time. I didn't want her to be in pain, but it seemed like the only way she was going to escape her pain, this time, was in death.
That was something that I didn't want to even consider.
Mom patted my hand. “Don't cry, Livy, darling,” she said, her voice weak but her grip still firm. “I've made my peace.”
“Don't say that,” I sobbed. “Don't just give up.”
Mom managed half a smile and wheezed in another breath. “I didn't want to make myself sicker with treatments,” she said. “You know as well as I do that it would have just been prolonging the inevitable. Once the cancer gets in you, there's no real chance of survival.”
“But you could have lived a little longer,” I sobbed. “You could have met your grandchild.”
“I wouldn't want my granddaughter to remember me like this,” Mom said fiercely. “I want you to tell her all the good stories about me, about how strong I was. About how much life I had.”
I whimpered, and she squeezed my hand even tighter. “Livy, listen to me,” she said. “I've had a good life. Maybe not as long as some, but I did everything that I wanted to do in this lifetime, and I'm ready to go.” Her eyes softened. “I'm going to miss my incredible daughter, but I know that she'll be fine without her mother.”
I just shook my head, having a hard time getting words out. “How am I going to raise a baby with no grandmother and no father?” I finally managed to ask. I still hadn't told her about the fight that Eric and I had had, not wanting to upset her, but now it all came pouring out. “Eric refuses to believe that it's his baby. I don't know if he's just not interested in being a father again or if he really doesn't believe me, but I don't think he's going to be around for her.”
