A Curve in the Road(18)
I bow my head and press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Thank goodness.” I turn to my mother. “He survived the surgery.”
Dr. Payne responds immediately. “But he’s not out of the woods yet. There was a lot of bleeding, and we nearly lost him. I had to remove his spleen, and that skull fracture has me worried. I’m going to stay with him tonight and watch him closely.”
Suddenly I’m hit with a spell of déjà vu because everything reminds me of what just happened to Alan—the head injury and the internal bleeding and the damage to the spleen. It’s all too similar, and it brings back the same feelings of panic I had in the ER only hours before. I want to get out of this bed and go straight to the clinic, but I know I can’t. It’s the middle of the night, and I’ve been given pain medication. Besides all that, Winston is still anesthetized.
“When will he wake up?” I ask.
“It’s hard to say. He’s been through a lot. I’ll certainly call you if there’s any change, but in the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep. If he makes it through the night—and I have faith that he will, Abbie; he’s very strong—he’ll want to see you in the morning. He’s going to need a reason to wag that tail.”
Dr. Payne’s encouraging words fill me with emotion. My eyes tear up, and I find myself marveling at the fact that I’m still capable of feeling some form of joy, even if it’s tearful. It’s a tremendous gift on this night.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll call first thing in the morning.”
“Good,” he replies. “And get some rest, Abbie. It sounds like you need it.”
“I will. And thank you again. You have no idea what you’ve done for me and my son tonight. We’ll never forget it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I wake with a start and sit bolt upright in bed. The morning sun is beaming through ice crystals on the window glass. They shimmer like diamonds, and I’m momentarily blinded because my pupils are dilated from sleep. Only then do I remember where I am and why I’m here.
Last night I was in a car accident, and my husband died.
I feel as if I’ve lost a limb or an internal organ. I wish someone would walk in and tell me it was all a bad dream, but I know it wasn’t. Today I must rise and come to grips with Alan’s passing and start to think about practical details I don’t want to face—like coffins and obituaries, hymns and flower arrangements.
If only I could go back in time and relive yesterday. If that were possible, I would get up in the morning and insist that Alan forget about work and come with me to my mother’s house. Then none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t be waking up in this hospital, drowning in grief, unable to hear my husband’s laugh or smell his musky aftershave or find comfort in his arms.
Then I think about Winston, and I want both Zack and me to be at the vet hospital when he wakes up. I want to stroke my dog’s soft golden head and tell him everything is going to be okay.
I need to say those words out loud, to hear them myself, to try and believe them—for Zack’s sake as well as my own.
Tossing the covers aside, I slip out of bed and look out the window. It’s still early, but salt trucks and snowplows have done their job through the night, and the street appears to be clear.
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, collect myself, and turn to my mother, who is still sleeping.
“Mom, wake up,” I say, gently shaking her.
She opens her eyes. “What’s happening?”
“It’s morning, and the roads are salted,” I say. “I’m going to call Zack now and get Maureen to bring him directly to the vet hospital so that we can see Winston together. Can you drive me there?”
She sits up and glances around. “Yes, of course, but are you allowed to leave?”
“They can’t hold me against my will,” I reply, sitting down on a chair to pull on my sneakers and tie the laces. “Besides, I’m fine. Just a little stiff and sore in the legs, that’s all.”
It’s my heart that hurts the most, but I don’t need to tell my mother that—she knows.
I call my son, and we take a few moments to comfort each other on the phone. Then I tell him where he and Maureen should meet me.
I also ask him to pack a bag for me at our house and bring it with him. I give him specific instructions about what I’ll need—my toothbrush, socks and underwear, jeans and sweatshirts. A black dress.
The sound of a meal cart rolling down the hall on squeaky wheels causes my mother to rise from her bed. “You should eat something.”
“Yes. We both should, but let’s try to be quick because Maureen and Zack are leaving Halifax now and should be at the vet hospital in just over an hour. God, I can’t wait to see him.”
The porter brings in two trays, and I thank him. Even though I have no appetite, I force down a few bites of oatmeal before I go to the nurses’ station to let them know I can’t wait around for the doctor to discharge me. I need to leave immediately. I explain why—because of Winston—and the duty nurse understands because she’s a dog owner too. I promise to return for a follow-up with Dr. Sanders very soon.
Fifteen minutes later, Mom and I are pulling out of the hospital parking lot, and I feel a sudden pang in my gut to be leaving the place where Alan died less than twelve hours ago—where his body is still being held. I turn in my seat to look out the rear window and watch the building grow distant.