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“What’s the matter,” she said when she saw me. “You’re white as a ghost.”
“I just found out that my father is in NYP ER and is having a CT scan. He fell at home and his wife thinks he was unconscious for a few minutes. He had a stroke last year and so it could be another.”
She wiped her hands on her apron. “Do you want to go and be with him?”
I nodded, and of course, my eyes filled with tears. “Yes. Can you stay with Sophie until Drake gets back?”
“Of course, dear,” she replied, a look of sympathy on her face. “You sure you don’t want to wait for Drake to get back?”
I shook my head and struggled to speak for a moment as emotion overwhelmed me. “No,” I managed to say. “I want to go right away.”
“Okay,” she said and came over to me, putting her arm around my shoulder and squeezing. “You go right ahead. Sophia's having a good sleep. When she wakes up, I can give her another bottle. She’ll be fine until Drake gets back. He said he’d be here around six, so that’s only in another hour.”
“Thank you,” I said and at that moment, I felt such affection for her for understanding my need to go right away to be with my father. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” she said. “You go. I’ve got this handled.”
I nodded and left the kitchen, taking my cell out and calling for the limo service to take me to NYP. Then, I took the stairs to the second floor so I could quickly wash my face and brush my teeth, make myself a little more presentable.
By the time I got down to the street, after pulling on my fall jacket and shoes, the limo was already waiting for me, the driver standing beside the back passenger door.
He opened it for me and I got in. While the driver got inside, I took out my cell and sent Drake a text.
KATE: My father is in NYP ER. He fell at home and Elaine couldn’t get him up so she called an ambulance. She thinks he lost consciousness for a few minutes. I’m on my way there now. Karen's staying with Sophie. Please text me when you get this.
We drove off to NYP and I wondered what I’d find when I got there.
The ER was busy as I walked inside, stopping at the reception area where they triaged patients to find out where my father was being kept. The nurse behind the desk glanced at me and asked who I was.
“I’m his daughter, Katherine McDermott Morgan,” I said. “His wife might have said I was coming.”
The nurse glanced at the screen and told me what room he was in and then buzzed me into the back area where the ER bays were located. She gave me directions, and I walked past a dozen tiny cubicles filled with patients, family members and banks of telemetry so the staff could monitor the patient’s vital signs. My heart rate increased as I glanced down the long hallway to a larger room where my father was housed. It was empty, except for Elaine, who sat there waiting for me. When she saw me, she stood and opened her arms.
“They had to take him to surgery,” she said and squeezed me.
What felt like a lead weight fell on me and I gasped. “Did he have a stroke?”
She nodded and pulled back, brushing my hair from my cheek. “Yes, sweetie. He had another stroke while they were doing the procedure. They had to rush him into the OR to try to stop the bleeding.”
We hugged again and then sat on two chairs side by side, our arms still around each other.
A nurse popped her head into the cubicle. “He’s been assigned a room in the ICU, if you want to go and wait. There’s also a patient room in the surgical wing you can go to and wait for his surgeon to come out.” She handed us a small pamphlet that had the layout of the hospital with a bright pink X where the surgical patient waiting room was located.
“Thank you,” Elaine said. “We’ll go there now. Thanks for letting me wait for my daughter.”
The nurse smiled. “We need the room now so it was good timing.”
Elaine and I stood, she gathered her bag and jacket and together, we took the long hallways to the bank of elevators that would take us to the surgical floor, where the OR suites were housed. Once there, we sat in the large patient room, which was bright and airy, with windows to an interior courtyard. There were big comfortable couches and tables, as well as a small kitchenette with a coffee maker, hot water for tea and a small bar fridge filled with juice and sodas.
Elaine fixed herself a cup of tea and I took a juice, not wanting to test the decaffeinated tea in case it was really old.
We sat on a sofa side by side and my cell dinged. Drake must have received my text after his game.
DRAKE: Sorry I didn’t get this until now. How is Dad?
KATE: He’s undergoing surgery for a bleed on his brain. I’m in the patient waiting area outside the OR theatres. We’re waiting to hear from his surgeon, Dr. Franks.
DRAKE: Franks is first-rate, so Dad is in good hands. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Karen will stay the evening so we can wait together and see how he’s doing.
