Page 305 of The Havenport Collection

Gio

I paced and paced, probably wearing out the hardwood floors below my feet. Sam went into surgery at nine this morning.

I got a text from her at seven that she was in pre-op and giving her mom her phone.

I sent her a selfie of me and Xena on the beach.

We had been spending a lot of time together lately, since Sam was sometimes too sick or tired to take her out.

And I liked the companionship. Xena was wary of most people, especially men, but I won her over with lots of affection and some gourmet dog treats from Havenport’s own specialty dog bakery.

I scratched her ears, taking in her wariness. Xena knew something was up. “Your mom will be back soon,” I promised her. “You are the best. She misses you so much.” But she was as restless as I was.

So today, unable to sleep and totally terrified, we drove to the beach to run, walk, scream, and try to process not being there with Sam when she went in.

I know that a unilateral mastectomy was a routine surgery for the doctors, but for Sam, this was the biggest, most terrifying thing that had ever happened to her. And I hated being on the sidelines. I hated not being in the hospital, waiting with her mother for news.

But I was honoring her wishes. This was what she wanted, to hold me at arm’s length, and I couldn’t question that.

So Xena and I walked and walked, practically to the New Hampshire border, while waiting for news of the surgery.

I knew it would be a while. Sam had said it would be several hours before she woke up in the recovery room. But every minute stretched and stretched until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I sat down in the sand, and Xena put her head on my shoulder. Together, we looked out at the ocean, worried and quiet.

I had laid it out for Sam, bared my soul and been completely honest. And while I was hoping for a different reaction than her tears, just doing it felt right.

Because regardless of what happened, I took a chance. Unlike the dozens of other times in my life that I let the moments pass me by, this time I stood up and told her how I felt.

Eventually, I headed back to my house, needing to do something with my hands while my mind was in Boston in that operating room.

Finally, my phone rang. It was Beth. At last.

“Everything went well,” she said immediately. “Sadly, she did not have a complete pathological response to the chemo.”

“What does that mean?”

“The tumor shrank but not enough, so the surgery was necessary but successful. We’re waiting on the sentinel-node biopsy next, but she’s awake and groggy but feeling good.”

“Can I speak to her?”

“Hold on one sec.”

I could hear a door closing and then her voice came back. “She asked for you when she woke up. She wants to see you. It’s been scary and she’s been so brave but…” I could hear her begin to choke up. My heart broke for Beth, seeing her child in so much pain.

“I’ll be there.” My heart rate sped up, the thought of seeing her making the blood thrum in my veins. She needed me.

“Tomorrow morning,” she said. “They won’t allow visitors this late.”

“I’ll leave first thing. What can I bring you?”

There was no traffic going into Boston at five a.m., and I pushed the boundaries of the speed limit while getting there.

I pulled up to the hospital, gave my keys to the valet, and sprinted to the nearest elevator.

Visiting hours didn’t start until nine, but I would rappel down the side of the building if I had to.

I could not wait one more minute to see Sam.

I arrived at the post-op floor and made my way to Sam’s room. But when I got there I saw hospital staff rushing around and a crowd outside the door.

Beth was standing outside, talking to two doctors while nurses took Sam’s vitals and prepped her to move.

Beth looked up at me, her face as white as a ghost. She signaled for me to wait, and I stood, helpless as people scurried around, wheeling Sam out of the room.

She looked so tiny and weak lying in that bed, and I knew instantly this is why she didn’t want me here. Because seeing her like this was gutting me.

“Gio,” she said softly. Her face was pale and her breathing ragged. “You came.”

I rushed over, trying to get as close as possible.

“I’m not leaving,” I said as she was rolled away. “Never.”

I lost sight of her as Beth collapsed into my arms, tears streaming down her face.

“Infection,” she said. “It’s serious. I should have said something or paged the nurses sooner.

She said she had a headache and chills. I had no idea.

” She cried into my shirt, shaking while I tried to figure things out.

After getting her a cup of coffee and calming her down, she told me the full story.

Sam developed a post-op infection at the surgical site.

They gave her some antibiotics, but things got a lot worse.

It was staph, which could be deadly. She had been taken to the intensive care unit for further treatment.

Beth and I were relegated to a special private waiting room while doctors assessed the infection and determined if she needed additional surgery.

I stole a blanket and pillow from the nurses’ station and let Beth rest. I paced and texted with Eliza, Matteo’s girlfriend and a former Emergency Room nurse, so she could explain all the medical terminology to me as we waited.

Between Eliza’s explanation and furious googling, one thing was clear. This was serious. Staph infections were no joke, and even caught early, they had the potential to be deadly, especially since Sam’s immune system was weak from rounds of chemotherapy.

The room spun and my stomach dropped. I couldn’t lose Sam. She was my best friend and the love of my life.

I sat in the hard plastic chair and shook with fear, rage, and disbelief. Eliza claimed these things happened. But had the doctors screwed up?

I fell into a vortex of worry, my mind running around in circles of worst-case scenarios. I was in my own world, only snapping out of it when I heard familiar voices. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and saw my brother, sister, and niece walking through the doors, arms full of bags.

“We came to hang out with you,” Valentina said, coming up and giving me a hug.

“And we brought food,” Matteo added.

Nora held up a bag. “And clean clothes for you both.”

Others trickled in, including Eliza, Beth’s boyfriend, Dan, and Rose and Yael, who had picked up Xena at my house and taken her to the farm to hang out with their dogs.

Together we waited—worried and tired—for hours and hours until Grace Larsen finally appeared, looking exhausted in her scrubs. I still had trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that my kindergarten classmate was now a world-class surgeon.

“Ms. Sullivan?” she said, gesturing to Beth. She gave the rest of us a weak wave and led her out of the room.

Before leaving, Beth turned and gestured for me to follow. She grabbed my elbow, using me to steady herself as we entered a small room.

Grace wasted no time. “We had to bring her back into surgery to remove the infected tissue. She’s in recovery now, and when she wakes up will be moved to the ICU for antibiotic treatment and observation.”

I nodded, trying to make sense of this all. How did it happen so fast?

“Surgical site infections are rare, but can be very serious. Thankfully, this one developed quickly and we were able to treat it immediately. We will keep her here for at least a week. Given the drains from the mastectomy and further infection risk, it’s the safest choice.

We will continue twice-daily blood work to monitor the progress of the infection. ”

“Can I see her?” Beth asked, squeezing my arm.

“In a few hours, yes. But she will be disoriented from the anesthesia and the antibiotics. We’re hoping to get the fever under control tonight.”

“How did this happen?” I asked.

Grace sighed. “There is always an infection risk with a major surgery. But we are doing everything possible, and she is under constant monitoring.”

“Will she be okay?” Beth asked, her voice shaking.

Grace closed her eyes for a moment, clearly trying to compose herself too. “I hope so. She is young and strong; her body just needs to fight it.”

I put my arm around Beth as she began to sob, and I fought back my own tears.

I had done the research, and I knew how deadly staph infections could be.

I read horror story after horror story on the Internet about seemingly healthy people killed by this bacteria.

I held onto Beth as she shook, the fear completely taking over.

I closed my eyes, thinking about Sam’s smile, her laugh, and what she felt like wrapped in my arms. I would go anywhere and do anything to be with her. She would fight this and she would win. Because once she did, I was never letting her go.