"What happened?"
"He went to bed complaining about a really bad headache. In the night, he got up to go to the bathroom as he usually does and when he came back to bed, he had trouble speaking, and his face was drooping, one side looked like it had melted. Then, he fell to the floor and had a seizure. I just knew he was having a stroke and called 9-1-1 immediately. Thank God he had to get up to use the bathroom because the doctors said if he hadn't, he might not be alive. He might have slept right through it. They did a CT and say he had a hemorrhage deep in his brain due to an AVM – an arteriovenous malformation. Probably had it from birth but it only ruptured yesterday. I've been here since the middle of the night. Sorry I didn't answer your phone calls but I fell asleep in the waiting room and got your message when I woke up just now."
"No, don't worry about me. Is Heath there?"
"No," Elaine said, her voice falling. "He's in Haiti, doing some reconstruction work. I called him, and he'll come as soon as he can, but he might not get here for a few days."
"Drake and I will be there as soon as we can," I said.
"OK, sweetie. I'll text you with any news. Let me know when you're scheduled to land. I can have the limo meet you at the airport and bring you straight to the hospital."
I reluctantly said goodbye and hung up. Then I sat and fought my tears.
Drake arrived about an hour later and came directly to where I was sitting, in the living room, my laptop on my lap as I scanned research articles about AVMs. He sat beside me and put my laptop on the coffee table before pulling me onto his lap, my legs across his thighs the way he did that first night in November. My arms slipped around his neck and he kissed me warmly before pressing his forehead against mine.
"Have you spoken to Elaine?"
"Yes," I said, my voice breaking. "She said he had an AVM."
"I know," Drake said, nodding. "I called the hospital and spoke with Aaron Clark, Ethan's neurosurgeon. He's still critical, but Aaron's hopeful they will be able to take the pressure off and minimize any damage."
I buried my face in Drake's neck and couldn't hold back my tears, not caring any more to be strong now that Drake was with me. I wiped my eyes, and looked in his. "Did you get tickets?"
He nodded. "Two. First Class on Swissair with a layover in Zurich. We leave here at 12:20 a.m. and get to La Guardia at about 8:30 tomorrow night. It was that or wait until morning and take a flight to Amsterdam with a shorter layover, but I thought you'd rather get going as soon as possi
ble."
I nodded and wiped my cheeks, trying to get a hold of myself. "I can't bear to sit around, waiting. I couldn't sleep anyway."
"I'll give you a sleeping pill," he said, his face serious. "You can sleep on the plane. I got us a hotel room for the layover so you can rest if you want."
"Thank you," I said and kissed him tenderly, so thankful that he'd gone out of his way to adjust his schedule so he could go with me and he'd made all the arrangements. My mind felt like it was going a thousand miles an hour as I thought about my father, worried about him, and wondered if he'd make it through the next 24-hours, the time it would take to get to Manhattan.
"Most patients with a first AVM stroke survive," Drake said, his voice soft. I nodded, my body relaxing a little bit as he stroked my cheek. "Are you hungry?" he said and ran his hand over my hair. "Can I fix you something to eat?"
I shook my head. "I couldn't eat anything right now." I forced a smile. "Go ahead and fix something for yourself. I'll have another cup of tea."
Drake fixed himself some leftover lasagna from the previous week that I had frozen and together we sat and discussed my father's case and prognosis. He'd spoken with my father's neurologist, having previously been on a first-name basis with him. The neurologist was hopeful that the bleeding had stopped and that once the pressure was relieved, my father's symptoms would fade and he would recover.
For the rest of the evening, until it was time for us to leave for the airport, we sat on the couch together, me with my laptop and him with his arms around me, explaining things to me as I searched. I was glad that Drake had chosen to take the first flight that left Nairobi on a carrier we preferred for I didn’t want to stay in the city any longer than necessary. As we left for the airport to catch our flight, I looked back at the house and wondered when I would return.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Drake gave me some Valium and I slept most of the way from Nairobi to Zurich and then a few hours at our hotel, which was located close to the airport. I was more awake on the trip from Zurich to New York, my stomach in knots as I thought about my father and how he was doing. I'd received an update from Elaine that my father had emerged successfully from surgery, and that he had regained a brief period of consciousness before lapsing back into a coma.
Only time would show how much permanent damage my father's brain had received and whether he would regain consciousness and be able to function normally.
When we finally touched down at La Guardia, I could barely stand to wait for our luggage and get to the hospital so I could see him for myself. Drake grabbed a sandwich at one of the airport restaurants as we passed by and in the limo, he handed me one half, demanding that I eat at least that much. I hadn't been able to eat the meals provided on the planes, my stomach nauseated.
I complied, barely tasting the egg salad but suddenly, my stomach woke up and growled. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I washed the sandwich down with some bottled water and wiped my mouth, glancing out the limo window as we drove towards NYP, where my father was being treated.
Drake knew his way around, of course, so he led me down hallways to the ICU. We went straight to the waiting room and Drake spoke to the duty nurse, who went and told Elaine that we had arrived. Only one person was allowed to visit my father at a time, so after Elaine came out to greet us, after we hugged and spoke for a while, I headed for his room.
"Prepare yourself, Kate," Elaine said, taking my hand and squeezing it. "He looks pretty bad. Very pale, and his face is paralyzed on the left side. He's still drifting in and out of consciousness but talk to him. Tell him you're here and that you're praying for him. It will comfort him if he can hear you. Be positive. He needs to be encouraged to choose to live."
She nodded to me and I hugged Drake once more before I went in.
The room was dim despite the bank of telemetry that was monitoring my father's condition, the glow of the lights from the equipment the only light beside that filtering in from the hallway. Elaine was right – my father looked extremely frail lying on the bed with the head raised, electrodes leading from spots on his chest to a machine, a blood pressure cuff on his arm, an IV in his hand. An oxygen cannula led from an outlet on the wall and threaded around his head and beneath his nose. His faded green hospital gown was pulled down a few inches below his collarbone. His hands were on either side of his body, but one was bent in an odd way, almost curled in on itself.