Page 125 of The Night Shift
I flip the chart closed. “Fair request, honestly.”
Kennedy smiles at me. I smile back.
“How fast could it grow?” Mrs. Fraser asks. “And what happens if we wait too long?”
“It’s hard to predict. Some stay the same size forever, some expand quickly. That’s why we’ll monitor it closely. If we see any changes — weakness, pain, worsening symptoms — we’ll act fast.”
She nods but doesn’t look reassured. “And if surgery is needed, how complicated is it? What are the risks?”
“It’s a straightforward procedure. We insert a shunt to drain the fluid and relieve pressure. Risks include infection, spinal cord irritation, or the shunt not working properly. But overall, it’s safe, and the goal is to prevent further nerve damage.”
Mrs. Fraser’s fingers tighten on the armrest. “And if we don’t do it?”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Kennedy cuts in, turning to her mother. “Can I get an ETA on my ice cream?”
Mrs. Fraser barely looks at her. “Kennedy —”
“Mom, I just endured a whole conversation about somebunt?—”
“Shunt,” I correct.
“Some shunt beinginsertedinto my spine. I think I deserve a sweet treat.”
Her mom sighs.
Kennedy grins, sensing victory. “Pleeease?”
“Honey, I don’t think the hospital cafeteria serves ice cream.”
“There’s a Ben & Jerry’s across the street.”
Mrs. Fraser hesitates, glancing at me. “I don’t think?—”
“It’s all right.” I reassure her. “She can have ice cream. I’ll ask one of the nurses to stay with her till you get back.”
She still looks unsure, but eventually, she grabs her purse, kisses Kennedy’s forehead, and heads out.
The second the door clicks shut, Kennedy turns to me, eyes sharp. “Okay, spill.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You’re grinning like a buffoon and there’s a cut on your head. Something interesting is finally happening in your life. What is it?”
I decide to go with the half-truth. “I went on a date last night.”
Kennedy’s eyes widen. “With?”
“None of your business.”
She gasps. “No way! You finally took Dr. Hollister out?”
I nod, still smiling. The thin scalpel scars on my chest tingle.
“Where’d you go? Did you buy her dinner? Please tell me you got her flowers. And why do you have a Band-Aid on your forehead? Oh, God, is it date related? Did she punch you?”
Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door.
Both of us turn.
