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“I didn’t see her, but one of the nurses said they thought that she came by earlier. They assumed she went to get something to eat.”
“That’s great,” I said, feeling a sudden surge of relief.
“I also stopped by the house again on my way back,” he added. “The lights weren’t on, and her car wasn’t in the driveway.”
After I hung up, the relief was strangely short-lived. In the back of my mind, warning bells continued to sound.
My next call to Paige went straight to voicemail again.
By the time the doctor finally called, I’d made it through Georgia and was into South Carolina. I was doing 90, praying I wouldn’t be pulled over but more than willing to risk it.
“Your aunt had an ischemic stroke,” he said. “That’s where a clot narrows one of the arteries leading to the brain. The good news is that the blockage wasn’t total.” He explained the surgery—while I’d imagined something complex, he said it hadn’t taken long—and emphasized how critical it was that Toby had called the ambulance when he did. He updated me on her current condition and the medications she was taking, adding that he was confident she’d be released within the next few days.
“What about her paralysis?” I asked.
“That’s a bit more complicated,” he said, “but the fact that she retains some movement in her arms and legs is a good sign.” He went on to discuss potential complications and post-hospitalization rehab, but with my brain still whirling, all I really understood was that right now there was still much he couldn’t answer. While I appreciated the honesty, it didn’t make me feel a lot better.
“And you’ve told all this to my sister, right? Paige? She knows what’s going on?”
“Initially, yes.” He sounded surprised. “But I haven’t spoken to her recently.”
“Hasn’t she been at the hospital?”
“I haven’t seen her myself, but sometimes I don’t even start my rounds until after visiting hours are over.”
I called Toby again, but this time his phone went to voicemail.
It seemed like years before I reached the North Carolina state line.
Morgan called again, maybe an hour after I crossed into North Carolina.
“Hey,” she said, sounding sleepy. “It’s a long drive and I know you’re upset, so I just wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine.” I briefed her on what the doctor had said, or as much of it as I could remember.
“How far away are you now?”
“Two hours or so?”
“You must be exhausted.”
When I didn’t answer, Morgan went on. “What did Paige say?”
“I still haven’t been able to reach her.”
Silence stretched out over the line, to the point where I wondered if we’d lost the connection. Finally: “Is there something you’re not telling me, Colby?”
For the first time since I’d known her, I lied.
“No.”
I could tell she didn’t believe me. After a beat, she said only, “Keep me informed, okay? I’m going to have my phone with me all night. You can call me no matter how late it is.”
“Thanks.”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I responded automatically, though my mind remained elsewhere.
