Page 73 of Rematch
“Okay, thank you.”
I walked away from the desk and took a seat on one of the empty seats on the other side of the room. My leg restlessly bounced up and down as I watched the door, waiting for Papa to walk through the threshold.
It was only a few minutes before I spotted his gray-streaked head walking through. He glanced around the waiting room. His shoulders visibly fell as he spotted me. Hurrying towards me, he opened his arms wide for a hug.
I flung myself into them and squeezed him tight. Tears I’d been holding back pricked behind my eyes. I squeezed my eyelids tight to keep them from falling.
“It’s alright,” Papa said as he wrapped his arms around me. “He’ll be alright. Don’t worry.” He led me back to the chairs and sat down beside me. “Have any of the doctors come out yet?”
I shook my head. “He’s still getting checked out. Did you talk to the manager on shift? What’d they say happened?”
“Shelly said they were talking in his office when it happened. She said one minute they were laughing and joking, and the next he was falling out of his chair. Scared her half to death.”
“At least he was with someone who could help,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” he said, though it came out more like a sigh.
Frowning, I reached over and grabbed his hand. I wished there was more I could do than be present for him. Having degrees in medicine and not being able to utilize them hurt like hell. All I wanted to do was treat Dad’s illness the way I was able to treat everyone else’s. After all he’s done to heal my wounds, the least I could do is work on his.
Papa and I waited for a long while before Dr. Wayans came out.
“Hello, Mr. Davis, Ms. Davis,” he greeted us. “It’s nice to see you both again. I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”
“How’s Benny doing?” Papa asked.
“He’s doing alright. We checked his vitals and it looks like his blood sugar levels are low. That would explain the fainting. Low blood sugar levels are common for patients with pancreatic cancer, but still a concern that could lead to other complications. How has Benny’s eating habits been lately?”
“Not as great as they usually are. He’s been experiencing more nausea lately, so he’ll start a meal, but won’t finish it.”
“I understand. We should look into incorporating glucose tablets into his diet so his body can still get those sugars even if he doesn’t finish his meals. You can buy them over the counter at your local pharmacy. I can print out some brands I recommend if that’d be helpful.”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
Dr. Wayans nodded. “Of course. In the meantime, we have him on an IV dextrose to boost his sugar levels. I’d like to have him stay overnight for observation, but if his vitals look better by tomorrow, he should be able to go home then.”
“When can we see him?” I asked.
“I can take both of you back now.” He turned on his heel and led us down the hall. “He’s conscious, but still a little groggy.”
We followed him to the upper level of the hospital and down another long hall. We stopped outside one of the rooms. Dr. Wayans knocked softly on the door before slowly pushing it open. “Mr. Davis,” he called as he walked inside. “You have visitors.”
As he stepped aside, I caught a view of Dad laying in the hospital bed. A gown covered his torso and a thin blanket was tucked around his legs. A pale veil was thrown over his skin, lightening it a few shades. He didn’t look as bad as he could be, but the sight broke my heart all the same.
A small frown was pasted on his lips before his gaze went to us. He instantly replaced it with a wide smile. “There’s my favorite people!” He cheered.
Papa’s chest fell in relief. “Jesus, Benjamin,” he said as he approached Dad. He wrapped his arms around his head and pulled him close against his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad murmured. His free arm wrapped around Papa’s waist. “I should’ve called out of work today. I knew I didn’t feel well, but I thought I could push through it like I do every other day.”
“Your days have been looking different lately. On the bad ones, you need to take it easy.”
“I know.” Dad looked at me as Papa released him. His brows creased together at the sight of the moisture in my eyes. “Come here, baby girl,” he said, opening his arm.
I immediately went into them. I pressed my wet eyes into his shoulder as I squeezed him tight.
He rubbed his hand up and down my back. “Don’t be upset. I’m right here. Everything’s alright.”
His soft tone and touch made the tears fall from my eyes. His words reminded me of the one he’d give during the first few nights I spent with them. I used to have terrible nightmares andaccidentally woke them up from my whining and groaning. I’d wake up to their concerned gazes and assuring words. Dad used to hold me tight as he whispered those same words. It was the first time I remembered feeling safe since being separated from my mother.
