Page 63

I could have…
Shouldhave…
Katie glances between us again, her eyes growing glassy. “She really wanted to live to see the wedding. It was all she could talk about.”
Elaina makes a soft, wounded sound as she reaches out to rub my back. “Oh, poor Margaret. I’m so sorry, Hunter. I’m so, so sorry.”
The overhead lights buzz louder, the sound filling my head until I can barely think.
I fumble for Elaina’s hand, grateful when she threads her fingers through mine and holds on tight.
“The surgery started this morning at six,” Katie continues, her voice seeming to come from farther away than before. “It was supposed to take eight hours, but there were complications. Her blood pressure dropped during the third hour, they said, and they had to?—”
“Did they have a cardiac team standing by?” The words tear from my throat. “Given her history, that should have been a no-brainer.”
“Yes,” Katie assures me. “Dr. Garrett made sure of that.”
“Dr. Garrett,” I repeat. “Is he the one who developed this procedure?”
“No, but he trained with the team that did, and has a stellar reputation,” Katie says. “Margaret checked on all of that and read all the studies. She wasn’t going in blind. She met with the doctor several times before—” She breaks off with a relieved sound as her gaze fixes on something behind me. She lifts a hand in greeting. “There he is now. Dr. Garrett, hello, this is Hunter, Margaret’s son.”
I turn to see a middle-aged doctor in surgical scrubs headed our way. He has more silver in his hair than I do—making me guess his age closer to fifty than forty—and looks exhausted. His mask hangs around his neck, and his blue eyes are shot through with red, his dark blue scrubs wrinkled and stained with sweat beneath his arms.
“Good to meet you Mr. Mendelssohn,” he says, extending a hand as he stops in front of us.
I release Elaina’s palm and grip his, pumping it only once before asking, “How is she? I would have been here, but she didn’t tell me. I didn’t know any of this was happening until about thirty minutes ago.”
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t waste time commenting on the fact that my mother apparently decided to keep her only child in the dark about her decision to undergo a dangerous,experimental procedure. “The surgery was more complex than anticipated. We encountered more invasive tissue in the spinal cord than the imaging suggested. However, we were able to remove approximately seventy percent of the affected tissue, which means radiation should hopefully be effective on what remains. However…”
He pauses, and in that silence, I hear every beep from the nurses’ station, every squeak of shoes on linoleum, every murmured prayer from the woman with the rosary.
That ‘however’ hangs in the air like a guillotine blade.
“Your mother’s body had difficulty tolerating the extended procedure,” he continues. “The surgery lasted nearly twelve hours, significantly longer than planned.” He meets my eyes directly, his exhaustion evident. “She’s currently in a medically induced coma to protect her brain from further damage.”
The floor seems to shift under my feet. The fluorescent lights overhead blur and swim. Questions flood my mind but stick in my throat like shards of glass. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. The walls of the waiting room seem to press in closer, the air growing thinner.
My voice sounds distant, unfamiliar when I manage to ask, “When will we know? If she’s…”
The doctor’s hesitation feels endless. “If her vitals stabilize in the next forty-eight hours, her chances improve significantly. The surgery itself was successful. Now it’s just a matter of whether her body can recover from the trauma. But we’ll be monitoring her closely and doing everything we can to help her pull through. The nurses here are second to none. She’s in excellent hands.”
“Can we see her?” Elaina asks from beside me, her voice soft but steady.
“Of course. Once she’s settled in the ICU, we can get you in to see her.” The doctor checks his watch. “Should be about thirtyminutes to an hour. We’re just waiting for a space to open, but that should be sorted soon. A nurse will come get you when she’s ready.”
“Thank you, doctor,” I say, shaking his hand again. “I appreciate the update.”
“I’ll reach out as soon as I know anything more,” he says.
After he leaves, I sink into the chair beside Katie’s. The vinyl is cold through my pants, the metal frame digging into my back.
I still can’t believe she did this. That my mother chose to risk everything without telling me. Without giving me a chance to talk it through with her.
Or at the very least say goodbye…
“I’ll get us some tea, okay?” Elaina says, squeezing my shoulder. “I think we could all use something warm and soothing. Katie, would you like some?”
“Yes, please,” Katie says, sounding utterly exhausted.