Page 90 of The Women of Oak Ridge
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:LAUREL
DAD AND I WERE UP EARLYthe next morning, hoping Aunt Mae would be released from the hospital. I hadn’t been able to sleep last night and ended up going over notes from the interviews I’d conducted thus far, as well as things I’d jotted down at the library. While I greatly appreciated Georgeanne and the others sharing their personal stories with me, Aunt Mae’s refusal to share hers made me more determined than ever to dig into the secrets and heavy emotions people who worked on the Manhattan Project experienced then and now.
When we arrived at the hospital, the doctor was with Aunt Mae. We greeted them both, then Dad moved to the opposite side of the bed and took her good hand. I noticed she was wearing her new glasses.
“How’s my favorite sister doing today? I trust you’re behaving yourself, Maebelle.”
Aunt Mae didn’t smile at his teasing. “I’ve been a model patient, Harry, but if they don’t let me go home today, I may have to change tactics.”
Dad looked relieved. I knew he’d been worried about Aunt Mae not recognizing him the previous day. Except for the yellowish bruises on her face and small cast on her wrist, it seemed she was back to her usual self.
We looked to the doctor for his response.
“I was just telling Ms. Willett that while she has improved, she is still experiencing symptoms from the concussion.” He glanced down to Aunt Mae. “You had a very restless night and experienced confusion regarding the nurse’s identity. But”—he included all of us in his gaze—“she’s better this morning. We were discussing whether she should spend another night in our care.”
“And I told him I would sleep better in my own bed.” Aunt Mae’s face bore a scowl. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Just let me leave and get on with life.”
The doctor didn’t seem offended at her gruff words. “The fuss, Ms. Willett, is that brain injuries take time to heal. It could be up to a month before you feel normal again. Headaches, fatigue, mood swings, memory problems, and even seizures are all part of the healing process. These symptoms aren’t to be taken lightly.”
“She lives alone.” Concern edged Dad’s voice. “Do you recommend someone stay with her until she’s recovered?”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Harry,” Aunt Mae said, clearly annoyed by the suggestion. “I can take care of myself.”
“I disagree,” the doctor said. “It would be best if you weren’t alone for the first week or two, depending on the level of symptoms you experience. We don’t want to see you in the emergency room again because you lost your balance and took a tumble.” He turned to Dad. “I’m willing to release her into your care today, but I strongly caution against resuming her independent lifestyle right away.”
“I understand.” Dad glanced at me. “Laurel has volunteered to stay with Mae, through the summer, if necessary.”
Aunt Mae’s gaze shifted to me. After a long moment, her expression softened a bit. “That’s very kind of you, Laurel. I’m sure it won’t come to that, though.”
“I’m glad to be of help, Aunt Mae.” We exchanged smiles.
Dad and the doctor left the room to tend to paperwork. With a nurse’s help, we got Aunt Mae dressed in the clean clothes I’d brought with us. By the time Dad returned to the room, Aunt Mae sat in a wheelchair, ready to escape the hospital.
“I hope we’re doing the right thing,” he said as the nurse pushed the chair toward the exit. “Another night in the hospital might not be a bad idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea.” Aunt Mae kept her eyes fixed on the glass doors ahead. “I want to go home. Have you been taking good care of Peggy?”
I assured her the little dog was fine but missing her, which seemed to please her. The drive didn’t take long. As Dad pulled his rental car into the driveway, Aunt Mae got emotional.
“It’s good to see my little house again,” she said, her voice wobbly.
She was weak, so Dad and I got on either side of her and slowly made our way to the house. Peggy danced and yapped, making us all laugh.
“At leastsomeoneis happy I’m home,” Aunt Mae said once she was settled in her chair, with Peggy in her lap.
Dad’s gaze met mine. He rolled his eyes, then took the small suitcase to Aunt Mae’s bedroom.
“It’s a bit early for lunch, but can I get you something to eat?” I knelt in front of her and petted Peggy’s head. “Velvet and Roonie brought tuna casserole and peach cobbler.”
“That was nice of them,” she said. “I had a decent breakfast, although the bacon was soggy. We’ll save the casserole for supper.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
Aunt Mae huffed. “I’ll bet a nickel it’s Georgeanne. She’s probably been glued to her front window, watching for us.”
I hid a smile and opened the door. There stood Aunt Mae’s neighbor, holding a covered dish.
“I saw y’all pull into the driveway.” She pushed the container into my hands, stepped past me, and went directly to Aunt Mae. “You certainly gave us a scare, Mae. I’m glad you’re home, safe and sound, but dear me, what an ordeal. I’ve never had a concussion, but my daughter’s youngest boy had one last year. Fell off his bike. She had to sit with him all night to make sure he didn’t slip into a coma.”
