Page 12 of Wesley

Chapter Five

Charlotte

The world was spinning around me, and I had never felt so useless. The doors had closed, and through the glass, I could see several people huddled over my daughter as her little body jerked around sporadically.

While she had been getting the test done, I’d convinced myself that she was going to be alright. Maybe it had been the tender touch from Doctor Young that had convinced me of it, or maybe it was my own stubborn nature. It didn’t matter, she had to be alright—she had to be.

When they rushed her out of the room and down the hall, my confidence quickly tanked. Doctor Young’s attitude toward the situation was no longer calm and relaxed. He was tense, and his movements were hurried and determined.

I suddenly wanted to scream,slow down, look at me again and maybe touch me like you did before. Tell me that everything is going to be alright.

That’s not what happened. In fact, things got worse, and I barely got a chance to kiss her goodbye before she was torn from my grasp and removed from my reach.

I stood on the opposite side of the door, tears wavering in my eyes, causing the scene to be more distorted than it already was. Doctor Young lifted his face toward mine. His lips were set firmly, and he nodded at me, and then they were gone, but it wasn’t the nod that had me wondering, it was the look in his eyes. The look that said, I’m sorry, I wish I could do more, that had me contemplating throwing up.

I was still standing there when someone in light blue scrubs paused in front of me, “Are you, Mrs. Bennett?”

“Ms. Bennett, yes,” I replied.

“I have some papers that I need you to sign.”

“Papers?” I responded, “My daughter is being rushed into surgery, and you want me to fill out papers?”

“Ms. Bennett, these papers are for consent to do the surgery. I have to ask a few questions also, all standard before we put her under.”

“Put her under?”

“Give her anesthesia.”

I swallowed the bile that had exploded into my mouth, “What do you need?”

She read off a few lines from the page in front of me that sounded like gibberish, and more gibberish, and then asked me to sign to give consent to do the surgery. I signed, was there even a choice here?

She began to ask me medical questions about Marisol, but she’d never had any issues, no allergies, no surgeries, barely ever sick.

“Okay, that’s about all we need. There is a waiting room down the hall, you can wait in there, and one of the doctors will come to find you after it’s over.”

“One of the doctors?”

“Yes, there are two doctors in there, Doctor Michaels is a neurosurgeon, and of course, Doctor Young is with peds.”

I nodded, and she studied me carefully, “Ms. Bennett, are you here alone? Can I call someone for you?”

I clenched my eyes, “I forgot her babysitter is down in the emergency waiting room.”

“What’s her name? I’ll have someone find her and bring her up for you.”

I thanked her and passed on the information. When she bustled away, I turned and slowly walked down the quiet hallway. In the distance, I heard doors open and close, and people’s voices, but none of it meant anything to me.

There were two other people in the waiting room, both sitting near the door. I walked as far from them as I could, and took a seat, letting my eyes scan the room. There was a large computer screen on the opposite wall, and I started when I saw the name Bennett listed under operating room number three. I stared at it, and right before Mrs. Becket arrived, a time popped into the in-progress column. Oh, my god, they were cutting my baby’s head open.

Mrs. Becket rushed to my side, and I stood and threw my arms around the older woman and started to sob. It took me a few minutes before I calmed down, and she helped me take a seat again, holding my hand and talking softly to me.

“Tell me what’s going on, Charlotte.”

“They have to cut her head open, Judith.” For the first time ever, I used her proper first name. I guess after what was happening, she was officially the only other family I had, the only other person who cared about Marisol like I did.

“Oh, sweetheart. Did you get a chance to talk to her?”

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