My Life in Shambles(83)

“We’re still running some tests,” he says to me. “I know this is hard for you.”

It’s the same doctor from last week when Colin was admitted to the hospital and I’m not sure how much experience he has dealing with MS. I called Dr. Byrne the moment this happened and he said he was on his way but he hasn’t shown yet.

“But his vision … can he …” I trail off, choking on the words, on what might lay ahead.

He nods. “His vision is coming back. Just a temporary loss.”

I exhale loudly, nearly keeling over with relief.

“This happens with MS. I promise I’ll let you know when you can see him, soon,” he says and then walks off down the hall.

I sigh and turn around, looking at Agnes and the Major sitting on the waiting room seats. It’s like it’s last week’s tragedy all over again, except this time Hemi is here, who went to the cafeteria to get everyone coffee.

“I don’t understand it,” Agnes says, shaking her head and sniffling into a tissue. “Why didn’t ye say something? All this time with us and ye didn’t say anything. Just more lies.”

I sit down beside her and put my hand on her shoulder. “No more lies, Agnes. I promise you. Padraig didn’t want to tell you or Colin until, well, until he was gone. We knew it would only make things worse and give you another thing to worry about.”

“Even so,” she says. “I could have helped in some bloody way.”

“I know. But now you know. Now everyone knows.”

When Padraig collapsed at the funeral, everyone was in a panic. I did what I could with him, held his head in my lap. He woke up a few minutes later, groggy and disoriented. Everyone was trying to help him, everyone was wondering what was wrong with him. I didn’t want to tell them but the truth has a way of pushing itself to the surface, no matter how hard you bury it.

“He has MS,” I admitted to the medics when they arrived and naturally everyone heard me. The news of his affliction spread throughout the crowd like wildfire.

Padraig has multiple sclerosis. Did you know Padraig was sick?

One look at Hemi’s face told me that he knew the implications of that.

Padraig would never play rugby professionally again.

“The poor boy,” Agnes says, wringing her hands together. “First he loses his father and then this happens to him.” She looks up at me. “Please tell me he’s going to live a long and happy life.”

I give her a soft smile. “He’s going to live a long and happy life,” I tell her but I’m not sure I believe it. I know he’s going to pull through this and I know he’s got as much strength inside as he does in his muscles but I also know his psyche is fragile. Lately, he’s been moody and sometimes mean. I know he’s going through a lot, the medications are messing with his brain and his brain is messing with him.

But I’m worried. I’m worried that this event is going to do something to him. I’ve seen how he gets when he gets scared and feels threatened and I’m not sure how he’s going to handle this episode, collapsing in public like that, having everyone know of his disease and to actual see it, all on the heels of his father’s death.

I won’t feel better until I see him myself.

“Valerie!”

I turn to see Dr. Byrne hurrying down the hall toward me. “I came here as quick as I could. How is he? Where is he?”

“I’ll go get the doctor,” I tell him and then gesture to Agnes. “Dr. Byrne, this is Padraig’s grandmother, Agnes.”

I leave them to get acquainted and so she can throw a million questions his way and I run down the halls to fetch the doctor.

About an hour later, after more cups of weak tea and stale coffee, Dr. Byrne emerges from Padraig’s room.

“Valerie,” he says, waving me over. “If you want to come in first.”

The way he says it makes a thread of unease run through me. I glance back at Agnes, the Major and Hemi, and then walk over.

“He’s a bit groggy from the meds,” the doctor whispers to me as we stand outside the door. “This has traumatized him, understandably. You’ll need to be patient with him.”

“He’s been really moody lately,” I tell him. “I’m worried what this might do to him.”

He nods grimly. “That’s what I’m getting at. He’s angry and rightfully so. The stress of losing his father and then being at the funeral, it got too much for him. Stress is always a big trigger when it comes to symptoms or to patients who have relapses. In this case, the inflammation in his eyes became too much and cut off his vision. He still can’t see very well but once the swelling goes down with time, he’ll be fine.” He pauses. “The problem is, he doesn’t think he’ll be fine. And that’s what we’re dealing with.”

I nod, taking in a deep breath, and step inside the room.

It’s dimly lit and I have a flashback to last week, but instead of Colin dying on the bed, it’s Padraig, sitting up and looking to be in anguish. He’s in a hospital gown, electrodes and IVs all over him, his fingers clenched around the edge of his blanket, like he’s holding on for his dear life.

I think in his head he is.

“Padraig,” I say softly as I walk over to him. “It’s me. It’s Valerie.”