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Miranda whispered something to George before he took off toward the house.
Brendan became alert once again, crying and reaching out for me. I gathered him in my arms as Miranda helped me to stand.
“My phone—it’s on the patio. I need my phone,” I said as I carried Brendan around the side of the house toward the cars.
“I’ll grab it. Go ahead and get him buckled in.” Miranda turned back toward the patio.
I buckled Brendan into his car seat in the back of the black SUV. My heart ached as he continued to fuss and cry. Miranda appeared by my side, handing me my cell phone.
My voice low, I tried my best to soothe Brendan as I sat next to him in the back seat. A few seconds later, George climbed in the front seat, giving some stuff to Miranda before he maneuvered the car out onto the road.
“Here.” She handed me my purse and then a bottle of children’s ibuprofen and a sippy cup with cold liquid in it. “Give him a little medicine to keep the fever down and just a few sips of the juice, but not too much. He might throw it up or choke on it if he seizes again.”
After I got Brendan settled a bit, I called Rhett, but it went straight to voice mail. That was weird. He always kept his phone on in case the restaurant needed to get ahold of him.
My eyes drifted over to Brendan, and my breath caught when a small smile played along his lips. His tiny hand reached out for something, and I looked down, realizing that I was playing with my necklace. He seemed to love the thing as much as I did, so I leaned toward him, letting him rub the locket with his fingers.
When we were almost to the hospital, I tried Rhett again, knowing once inside I might not get reception. But still no luck.
“I can’t get a hold of Rhett.” I gnawed at my bottom lip.
“Send him a text. When he sees it, he’ll step out of the presentation to give you a call.” George glanced in the rear-view mirror, catching my eyes as I nodded.
I felt like an idiot for not immediately thinking that myself; my mind was like Jell-O. I typed out a quick text letting him know what was going on.
“The minute he sees your text, he’ll be on the road.” Miranda turned in her seat and reached back to pat my knee. “Brendan sounds calmer. How does he feel?” Her eyes drifted to the car seat next to me.
I reached out and placed the back of my hand against his forehead. “Just slightly warm. He seems tired. Is it okay—letting him sleep? Should I—does he need to—stay awake?” My mind was going a mile a minute, and I felt like I couldn’t even form coherent thoughts.
She gave me a half smile. “I think it’s fine to let him rest. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
I nodded, knowing I needed to stay calm and get through this for Brendan.
Once we pulled up in front of the ER entrance, I swallowed down the memory of being here just over a week ago after the incident at Sarah’s apartment. I carried Brendan in, with Miranda at my side, while George parked the car. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone waiting, and they took us right back.
An hour later, I still hadn’t heard from Rhett. Not a phone call or a text. It wasn’t like him, and I wanted him there holding my hand while we waited for the doctor. I had done it all on my own so many times before. All the sicknesses, sleepless nights, doctor appointments, and ER visits. I should have been a pro. Even though I was lucky to have Miranda and George, it wasn’t the same as having a partner next to me to support me.
“Ms. Buchanan,” the doctor said as he stepped back into the small room.
I looked up and nodded for him to continue.
“The good news is we’re fairly certain it was just a febrile seizure, which can be very common around this age.”
“Fairly certain?” I swallowed over the lump in my throat. My head went through all the other horrible things it could be. Even though Miranda had spent the last hour convincing me it was nothing to worry about.
“Yes. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know for sure. But given that he was running a high fever and then from the physical exertion, his body temperature likely spiked, causing the body to seize to bring it down.” He looked down at the chart while writing something.
“I shouldn’t have let him run around like that,” I mumbled.
Miranda’s hand rubbed circles on my back as she leaned over and whispered, “Don’t do that. This isnotyour fault.”
The doctor, oblivious to our exchange, continued on. “But he has a pretty severe ear infection in his right ear. I’m going to send you home with a round of antibiotics and have you follow up with his pediatrician.”
“Okay. What if it’s not related to the fever?” I asked, and the look of sympathy on the doctor’s face made me freeze. He was young, maybe a new hire, not a doctor I’d seen in the past. But it dawned on me that there were probably records of past visits in his file, making it obvious that I was paranoid about illnesses. I mean, who wouldn’t be? My mom left our house one day because she had the common flu and never came home.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Just monitor him. Bring him back if he has another one. Give him fever reducers to keep the fever down if it gets above 101. I will prepare you, though. Some kids are prone to these, so this may not be his last. The nurse will bring in some information about what to do when he has one and what serious complications to keep an eye out for.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples to calm my anxiety, reminding myself that it was nothing to be concerned about. Yet.
