“Possible change,” she said.
“Possibility is all you need,” I reminded her.
“True,” she said. “I’m sure you’re going to be great tomorrow, and Mrs. Elliot is going to feel a lot better after you help her. You really are amazing with what you do, too, you know that?”
“Thanks,” I said.
It meant the world to me to get a compliment from Harper. I cared a great deal what she thought, and for her to say something like that put me on top of the world. I just hoped she was right. I had come close to losing patients on the table before, and I was scared I might be in a precarious situation with Mrs. Elliot the next day.
It was one of those things I wouldn’t know until I was in there, and by then, it was too late to really back up and make another decision. I truly felt that the surgery was the best course of action for Mrs. Elliot, but that didn’t change the fact I was worried about her.
I hoped she would be ready for the surgery in the morning, and I hoped her care center would be right on time with coming to pick her up when the surgery was over. I wanted nothing but the best for her, and I hoped I would be able to help her out a bit more by getting her team to come in and get her home without her having to deal with the discomfort for very long.
I was filled with a renewed determination after talking to Harper.
If it fell to me to make sure she was comfortable the next morning and going into the afternoon, then I would make sure the nurses stayed on top of it.
But Harper was right.
It was sad that she was alone in life, and since she didn’t have anyone else, I would be the one who was there for her. I wouldn’t be able to do a lot after she left the hospital, but I was okay with that. She would be in good hands then.
I just hoped they would take the time to stop and listen to what she had to say while they helped her recover.
She deserved at least that.
THIRTY-TWO
Harper
“It’s sucha treat to get to see you on a weekend! And how kind of you to bring dinner, too,” my mom said as she rubbed her hands together and looked at the table spread with dinner.
“I thought we were well past due on getting to talk to each other, so I figured I would swing by and see how you’re doing. I really need to make more time to do that during the week,” I said.
“Oh, nonsense. You come by several times a week most weeks, and I know you have a life outside of taking care of me. I’m glad for the time I get to see you, and since it’s so often, I don’t press you to stay longer.”
“There are times, though, when I can’t fit what I want to talk to you about in a five-minute conversation,” I said.
“True, which is why I have been looking forward to this all week. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve got to share with me!” she said. “Of course, you know the number one thing on my mind is how are things going with Trevor?”
I smiled a small smile, hiding the emotions that wanted to betray me.
“Things have been pretty good there, I’d say at least. You know I almost never date anyone, so the fact that we are seeing each other so regularly and still having fun is huge in my book. Normally, one of us loses interest before we make it to the six-week point, let alone two months,” I said.
“That’s great!” My mom looked happier than I had seen her in a long time. “I just knew the first time I met him that he would be perfect for you, and when I met him again, then again, I just couldn’t shake the thought that he would be perfect. He’s got that great sense of humor, he’s great for conversation, and I’m assuming there’s a great body going on under that coat.”
“Mom!” I scolded.
“I’m sorry, honey. Are you still doing your pact? I wasn’t sure if you were keeping that up or if you had stopped yet,” she said. “Either way, I’m glad to hear that the two of you are spending time together. It really makes my heart happy to think that you won’t be alone when I pass.”
“Mom, don’t talk about that,” I pleaded. “You are in remission, and there’s no reason to think that you’ll relapse. So, let’s just not talk like you’re going to. If you live out your full happy life, you still have twenty plus years easily.”
“I don’t know if I have that long. I am seventy,” she said. “But we don’t have to talk about that tonight if you don’t want to. I just want you to be ready for it when it does happen.”
“I don’t think anyone is ready for their mom to die,” I said. I didn’t mean to be harsh with the way I said it, and I was glad my mom was understanding.
“No, they aren’t, but the only way I can be ready to move on into the next life is if I am absolutely sure you are okay here. I can’t move on to heaven and think of you back here all alone. How would I possibly be able to call it heaven?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine, Mom, you don’t have to worry about me,” I assured her. “Just, let’s not talk about you dying. I don’t like that any more than you want to talk about me dying.”