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“Mitchell, has your mother been tested for dementia or have you noticed any changes in her behavior as of late?” Dr. Wright asked.
“Not that I'm aware of. Is that a concern now?” My God, I wouldn't even know how to begin to learn how to help her with that diagnosis. Was that beyond my abilities? There's no way I'd be able to work and take care of her.
“I'd recommend setting up a consultation with her primary care doctor, preferably while she's still here. We’re admitting her. I won't release her until she's conscious and there is no fear of threat for any further harm to her. I'm not saying you will hurt her, please don't misunderstand what I'm saying. But it's obvious she wasn't waiting for you to come out of the office to assist her. She decided to do it on her own and if she is in the onset of dementia, she's not always going to understand that what she needs and what she wants she may or may not be capable of giving herself any longer and therefore could cause serious harm,” Dr. Wright explained.
“God,” I mumbled and slunk down into the chair in the room and buried my face in my hands. “She was always there for me, even after my dad died. She took on both parental roles without question. How can I be there for her now as she was for me? I don't know what to do.” Jenson stood beside me rubbing soothing circles on my back. Well, I knew it was meant to be soothing, though right now I wasn't sure it was capable of achieving that for me.
“Let me confer with our on-staff specialist and have them reach out to her primary and set up a meeting for you. In the meantime, I'll have one of the nurses take you up to the room that she's in,” Dr. Wright offered, which I greatly appreciated.
“Thank you, Dr. Wright,” Jensen said to him. We sat there for a few more minutes and waited for the nurse to come get us. The room was silent, and my thoughts were all over the place. Knowing Jensen, he was well on his way to figuring out how to fix this. That's how my friend was and how he landed in the field of facility maintenance as a director. Fixer by nature and a fixer in his daily job.
Chapter 3
Mitchell needed me and whenever that happened, I was there no matter the time of day or night. He always kidded around and said I could fix anything, yet I could never fix the fact that I'd been in love with him since the day we met, though I'd never told him that. There we both were nearly forty and single. I'd had a few relationships over the years, none of which lasted more than a year. Partly due to my inability to stop comparing those I dated to Mitchell.
The lonely heart of a man desperately in love with his best friend who didn’t feel the same way. Clearly, poetry was not my forte and with each passing day it was getting harder not to pour my heart out to Mitchell. Fear of ruining our friendship was the last tendril holding me back and likely the only one with a brain.
The only person who knew I felt this way was my sister, Amy. She and I were only eighteen months apart and barely a day went by that we didn't speak. She’s married with children, and I loved and adored my twin nieces, Haley and Riley. I was the fun uncle who took them to the pizza place and the children’s movies and while that’s partially spoiling them, the other side of that was to give their poor mother and father a break every once in a while. Having kids was a lot to handle, juggling twins was a whole lot more.
So, as I stared at the sad face of the man I loved, all I wanted to do was take his pain away, though I feared the outcome wasn't one he would handle well. He'd mentioned to me a few times that his mother had been forgetting things but having only moved back right before she had surgery, he didn't see much of it until afterwards. Whether or not the surgery exacerbated that, I wasn't certain. I checked on Kate as often as I could while he was in Chicago but even that wasn't enough. When Mitchell got the call that she had fallen and broken her hip, I was out the door and to the hospital in record time. Had Kate’s neighbor not come over to check on her who knows how long she would’ve lie there.
I should’ve checked on her more.
Fuck, I failed my friend.
Kate treated me like I was her own. Mitchell and I were glued at the hip from day one and in constant competition on the field. She and my mother were at every event, running bake sales and what not to raise money for our team. When my mother passed away, Kate was beside herself and honestly that’s when I noticed the biggest change in her. No matter how often Amy or I would try to get Kate out for lunch or dinner, she declined. With my mom gone and Mitchell away, she became an empty shell of herself. Mitchell was her world.
Knock, knock. The door opened and a nurse popped her head in. “Gentlemen, please, follow me.”
She led us to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. We stopped at the nurses’ station where she gave them both our names. “She's in room four-twelve.” We walked inside to the usual beeping machines, the ones that made your heart stutter and your mind reel with wayward thoughts. And in that bed was a woman I didn't recognize. Frail, tiny, motionless. Had the heart monitor not been tracking her heartbeat I’d swear she'd already left this earth.
Mitchell walked over and took her hand in his, tears streamed down his face, triggering mine. “Oh, Momma. I'm so sorry,” he uttered through his sobs. One side of her face was completely bruised from the fall, the other he lightly traced with his fingertips. She didn't even flinch. “Why won’t she answer?” My heart broke for him.
“I don't know. I wish I had the answers and knew how to fix this. I adore your mother, you know that.” At least, I hoped he knew that.
“I know,” Mitchell replied, his eyes never leaving his mother. “You might as well go home and get some sleep. I'm gonna stay here.”
“If you think I'm leaving you two, you're sorely mistaken, my friend. I'll be right here beside you all the way,” I assured him. I knew he meant well when saying I should head home, but I knew he wanted me here as did I.
“You're a good friend, my brother.”
Was that how he would always see me, as a brotherly figure? But this wasn't about me, this was about them and no matter the mangled mess my heart was I never turned my back on them, nor would I. We settled in for the long haul, Mitchell took the chair next to the bed while I took the one near the window and pulled out my phone to text Amy. I assured her I'd keep her updated on any changes with Kate. There was no use in her coming up here, I'm sure what little sleep she got was valued. Besides, there was nothing she could do. Really, there was nothing any of us could do. Hopelessness wasn’t an emotion I did well with.
The two of us napped off and on throughout the night as best we could in those horribly uncomfortable chairs. I often wondered why hospitals did that—put in ridiculous chairs that no one could manage to sleep in, not to mention how are the patients supposed to sleep with all the beeping and the nurses coming in every hour to check their vitals? I mean, wasn't the purpose in being here to get well, and wasn't sleep the number one thing you needed to accomplish that? I will never understand the medical system. I stood and stretched, popping my back and neck. Mitchell's head rested atop his mother's bed near her hand. I used the restroom then went downstairs to seek out breakfast and coffee for us. When I walked back in, I immediately knew who Mitchell was on the phone with without asking.
“Sir, my mother is in the hospital. I've been here with her all night. No, I understand that. Yes,” he answered his asshole boss’s questions.
Mitchell’s agitation increased talking to that jackass. I’d told him for years to quit and he wouldn't listen. He always had an excuse—well, I need this much more money saved and maybe in another year or two I can. In the beginning he was gung-ho climbing the ladder then when he realized this guy wasn't gonna let him reach the goal he sought, he decided to save to start his own business. I offered to give him whatever he needed to do that, but Mitchell wasn't one to take handouts or loans.
“You know what, don't worry about writing me up. I quit!” He hung up, slipped the phone back in his pocket and furiously ran his hands through his hair.
“It's about fucking time,” I said. Mitchell spun on his heels and faced me.
“I thought you left.” The worry in his voice nearly had me wrapping my arms around him in a warm embrace. My instincts were right, he did want me there. He needed me.
“I said I was staying, and I meant it. Here,” I handed him a bag and a cup of coffee. “I managed to scrounge up some breakfast though I can't guarantee it or the coffee are worthy of the price I paid.”
“I'll pay you back,” Mitchell immediately replied.
