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Exhaustion, that silent companion, settles into my bones. It’s more than weariness; it’s the weight of waiting—the hours stretched thin, the minutes echoing with unanswered questions. My mind, a labyrinth of thoughts, navigates the twists and turns. Each tick of the clock, each heartbeat, becomes a move on the board. I strategize, analyze, and wonder if the next call will bring solace or upheaval.
I’ve forgone phone calls until I have information to share. Right now is a game of waiting. The anticipation hangs in the air, a taut string waiting to be plucked. My fingers, like restless birds, tap their silent rhythm on the chair. Each beat echoes the seconds of the damn clock above my head.
And then, the doors spring open again. The hinges groan, releasing me from the confines of waiting. Someone approaches—a figure blurred by distance, yet unmistakably real. Their steps, deliberate and purposeful, carry them straight toward me. This is it. My weary eyes try to read the emotions on his face but they remain locked away in a stony gaze.
Jumping from my chair causes a sudden burst of movement—a ripple in the otherwise static waiting room. The chair now lies sprawled on the floor, the commotion forces all eyes to turn toward me.
“How is she? How is Marcy Hillary?” I question rapidly as the doctor comes to a stop. The doctor stands before me, answers hang in the air between us. Finally, after what seems like a millennium, he responds.
“She made it through surgery, Mr. Knight. If you will come with me, I will explain everything further.” Nodding seems like the only thing I can do at the moment as the news sinks in that she’s at least alive. Tears of relief skim down my face from the emotional turmoil that I’ve been living with for several hours. I know I won’t feel peace until I can see her, until I can wrap my hand around hers. I follow the doctor through the emergency room to a bank of elevators.
“She was given a room in the ICU so we will be able to monitor her overnight. Once she wakes from anesthesia she will be placed there.” As we enter the elevator, he begins going over the details of her injuries.
“When she was brought in, her condition wasn’t stable. The paramedics suspected she had a traumatic brain injury, which was confirmed with a CT scan upon arrival. However, Ms. Hillary had internal bleeding causing severe pressure on her occipital lobe. We were successful in relieving the pressure. Are you with me so far?” he asks with a genuine look of concern on his face. I know I must be pale with the news he’s giving me. I can feel myself growing faint with every uttered word. I press myself against the wall to stabilize my trembling body that threatens to plummet to the floor.
“I am.” I pause trying to collect myself. I’ve been through fucking war but hearing about my love’s injuries makes me want to crumble to the floor. “This is a lot to take in.” My hands scrub through my already disheveled hair trying to absorb everything he’s telling me.
“As I was saying, we relieved the pressure but as we were stitching her back up, her body went into shock. This caused her body’s blood pressure to drop significantly resulting in cardiac arrest. Fortunately, we were able to stabilize her after several attempts with the defibrillator. We won’t know if there are any lingering effects to her brain until she wakes. Her brain was without oxygen for six minutes but Ms. Hillary is lucky to be alive.”
As his words circulate in my mind, the air feels like it bursts from my lungs leaving me bereft and reeling. The elevator doors open making me rush from the confines of the small metal box.
“Mr. Knight, are you alright? Is there someone we can call for you to be with during this time?” His touch, firm and reassuring, anchors me to the present. Now that I know she survived surgery, it’s time for me to do everything I can to help her, starting with her accommodations.
“No, thank you. I will make some calls once I have seen her. I would also like to have my doctor come in to go over her records just as a second opinion. I want Marcy to be placed in the best ICU room available with the leading team of doctors and nurses tending to her, no expenses spared. Do you understand? There will be a significant donation made to the hospital for your cooperation. I’m sure you understand how beneficial that would be for this facility.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Knight. I will get in touch with the hospital administrators to have those arrangements underway immediately. I will have a nurse come inform you when Ms. Hillary is in her room”
“Thank you. Now, would you please direct me to a quiet room where I can make some phone calls.”
I settle into a comfortable leather chair, closing my eyes as the events of the day wash over me. Never would I have imagined I would be here when I woke this morning. It shows how life can change in an instant, as if I didn’t already know that.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pull up Miles’ contact. I need to let him know what’s happening so he can share the news with Big Apple PR.
“Sammy! How’ve you been,” Miles’ voice booms from the speaker making me wince. My head is already pounding from the events of the day, I don’t need yelling in my ear.
“Listen, I called because Marcy was in a car accident early this afternoon. She had to have emergency surgery but she’s in recovery,” I manage.
“What the fuck, man. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“I didn’t have any news to give you. I only just received the news myself that she was out of surgery.”
“Sam, we’re family. Seb and I would have come and waited with you. Hell, she’s basically family too, especially now…” he trails off.
“I know. I just needed some time to process everything. I still haven’t seen her yet.”
“What happened to her? Have you spoken with her doctors?” Miles questions.
“Yes, just now. She had internal bleeding in her brain causing a pressure build up. They had to operate immediately.” I don’t want to add the part where she died on the table for a few moments. I can’t speak that out loud. I don’t want it sent out into the universe.
“Fuck man. Tell me what we can do.”
“Can you get in touch with Marcy’s office to let them know. Nora is her assistant so she can handle Marcy’s schedule. Sarah also needs to know but I don’t have her contact information.” Honestly I don’t want to make any more phone calls. The more Miles can take care of the better. I want all my attention to be on Marcy. I need it to be on Marcy.
“Consider it done. Anything else?”
“Can you call Dr. Petterson? I want him down here to look over her records to make sure they are doing everything they can. I trust him.”
“I agree. I’ll call him first. Text me if there is anything else that you need from me or Seb. I will fill him in on everything. I love you, Sam. We are here for you, don’t forget that.” Tears prick my eyes. The weight of emotions well up, threatening to spill over. Family has always been so important to Marcy, a lifeline that she cherished even when circumstances were harsh. Yet, I’ve been avoiding mine—a realization that hits me like a sudden gust of wind. Family fortifies you, like roots anchoring a tree, providing stability and nourishment. It’s time to reconnect, to mend the frayed bonds and find strength in each other.
