Page 167 of Things I Wish I Said
The nurse sets my chart down. “Let me get the doctor, and he’ll explain everything.”
“That bad, huh?”
“You’re going to be okay,” she says, with a warm smile before she disappears.
A minute later, a light knock sounds followed by a deep baritone. “Ryleigh?” I nod as an older doctor comes into view. He has salt-and-pepper hair, thin lips, and kind eyes. He reminds me of my grandfather who passed when I was little. “Glad to see you up.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
“You have a case of bacterial pneumonia, I’m afraid. It’s not uncommon for someone with your condition. In fact, it’s quite easy for a lung cancer patient like yourself to develop pneumonia or other infections. We have you on some strong antibiotics, but considering your situation, we’ll probably want to keep you here a bit longer than normal patients for monitoring, since there can be complications.”
“How long?”
“A week, maybe more.”
A week? All I see are dollar signs.
“Can’t I just take meds at home?”
“We really need to deliver these intravenously and even after—”
“Listen, I’ll sign a waiver, whatever the hospital needs so you’re not liable. I just can’t stay here.”
“Legally, I can’t keep you. But, Ryleigh, this is serious. A lung infection like this could kill you if not handled properly. You need treatment and in-house care. At least stay until you’ve had all your meds, then decide.”
I want to tell him no, to refuse—I mean, what’s the point of treating a terminally ill patient, anyway?
But for some reason, I hold back. Maybe I’m just tired of fighting.
“Fine.” I sigh.
“Good. Rest up and let us know if you need anything. I’ll be back in to check on you in the morning.”
“Thanks,” I mumble as he turns to leave.
An hour later, the door to my room creaks open and my mother’s face appears . . . followed by John. I curse under my breath, bracing myself for the lecture I’m sure will follow.
“Ryleigh?” My mom’s face falls when she sees me, and she storms the room, racing to my side. “Oh my gosh. When they called me, I was so scared.”
Leaning across the bed, she takes me in her arms, her familiar vanilla scent enveloping me.
I breathe in deeply, letting the familiarity soothe me.
“I’m okay, Mom.”
She pulls back, checking my face, arms, and legs as if taking inventory. Two ears, check. Two eyes, check. All limbs, double check.
“Baby, what the hell happened? Do you have any idea how worried I was when they called me from the airport? I thought you were coming home tomorrow.” She glances around the room, then, “Where’s Grayson?”
I swallow, my gaze flicking to John who stares at the floor like he knows.
“One question at a time, Mom.” I huff.
She shoots me a look that says I better start talking.
“As for why I’m here? Apparently, I have pneumonia. Couldn’t stop coughing. Couldn’t breathe and passed out on the plane. As for the other stuff . . .”
I guess there’s no sugarcoating the truth. I might as well break the news to her now. At least I don’t have to lie.
