Page 47 of High Intensity

Wolff

“Mom, you have to leave that in.”

I untangle the cannula from the fingers of her free hand, and gently fit it back in her nostrils.

Her blood oxygen had been a little low in recovery so they’d put her on a low-flow feed. Her surgery turned out not to be as straightforward as setting the bones. They had to stabilize her forearm with plates, which meant a longer surgery and more sedative than anticipated. She’d taken her sweet time waking up and has been a bit combative since.

Luckily, the hospital has a café that stayed open until eleven, so I was able to buy something to eat and drink while I waited. As of four this morning, Mom was moved into her own room, and I was able to catch a few winks in the recliner in the corner whenever she dozed.

“It makes my nose hurt,” she says, her words still a bit slurry.

The overnight nurse mentioned recovering from the anesthesia can be more of a challenge in the elderly than it is to come back from the actual surgery. Staff has been very attentiveand patient with Mom, but lack of sleep has me running short on patience.

Taking a deep breath, I swallow the sharp words I had on my tongue, and force my tone a little gentler.

“Why don’t I go ask the nurse if there is anything they can do about that?” I suggest.

It may not be a bad idea for me to step out for a few minutes, maybe duck outside and get some fresh air. Since it’s almost eight o’clock, I can make a few calls to give people updates. I didn’t want to do that during the night.

I find a nurse I hadn’t seen yet at the nurses’ desk and relay Mom’s complaint.

“It’s probably just dry, but I have something for that. I was about to come and take vitals anyway, so I’ll bring it with me.”

“Excellent, thank you. I’m just going to pop out for a minute and maybe grab a coffee.”

“Of course. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

I end up popping into the café first, which apparently opened at seven again, and grab a coffee and some kind of muffin I take outside to eat. It looks like a nice day and it’s definitely not as cold as it was last week. I spot a bench at the edge of the parking lot and walk over.

“How did surgery go?” Jonas asks when he answers my call.

“Well, she’ll be setting off metal detectors at the airport, but other than some added hardware, she should be okay. She’s a bit fuzzy though, and keeps pulling on tubes.”

“Yeah, I remember Dad was like that after he had that hernia surgery last year. They told me it was the anesthesia, which I guess was true, since he was back to his cantankerous old self a week later.”

Right, I’d forgotten about that. The reminder puts me a little more at ease. I’d hate for my mother to lose that sharp mind she rightfully prides herself on.

“I remember that. Anyway, I’m going to stick around at least until the doctor has come by. He’s apparently doing his rounds at lunchtime.”

“Things are more than covered here. Stay with your mom. I think Dan mentioned he was heading into town later anyway to pick up a couple of things, and offered to drop by the cooler of food Ama is putting together.”

“She doesn’t have to do that. I can get food here,” I protest.

Jonas snorts. “Fuck, have you met Ama?”

He makes a valid point.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I’m sure he’ll message when he’s on his way.”

That eliminates the need to give him a call, so the next person I dial is Jillian. I’m half expecting my call to go to her messages, so I’m surprised when she answers.

“Hey, how was your night?”

Her voice is warm and soft, and I wish I could see her face.

“Restless. Mom is okay though.”

I quickly fill her in on her condition.

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