Not Quite Forever (Not Quite #4)(66)
Author: Catherine Bybee

That sounded about right. JoAnne liked her perfect world perfect, and his father often kept certain truths from her to keep her sheltered.

“He needs surgery.”

She offered a blank stare and blinked several times. “Open heart?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “And if he doesn’t have it?”

Walt glanced into his father’s room. “More of this. Hopefully the medics continue to arrive in time.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Sounded like his mother was ready to move forward with the right decisions. “We need him a little healthier first. A couple of days if we can hold off.”

His mom rubbed her forehead.

“You’re tired.”

“I’ve been tired before. I’ll survive.”

Walt placed an arm over his mother’s shoulders. “You need some sleep, a good meal.”

“I need to be here.”

“You’re of no use to anyone exhausted. Besides, Dad needs his sleep. When he has surgery, you’ll want to be close by. I looked at his chart and Stanley agrees, he’s stable. Let me take over for a while.”

He shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

She retrieved her purse from the room and followed beside him as they exited the ICU.

He found Dakota sitting alone in the lobby. She stood when they walked out and offered a smile.

His mother stiffened beside him. “I didn’t know you brought her along.”

How his mother could be anything but humbled, Walt would never know. Instead of honoring her words, he looked around the lobby. “Where did Brenda and Larry go?”

“Home. Larry said he’d be back in a few hours. They needed to recharge.”

Walt turned to his mother. “Is your car here?”

“It is. But I can’t go home now. I’m too upset to drive.” She turned back toward the ICU and Walt jumped in front of her.

“I can call a cab.”

“I don’t think so, Walter.”

“I can drive her,” Dakota offered.

Walt would have refused if it weren’t in Dakota’s best interest to avoid hospital lobbies. The last thing Dakota needed was to catch something hanging out in a hospital. As much as he wanted her by his side, Walt knew to diminish Dakota’s exposure to anything floating in the hospital. The fact she was pregnant and not able to combat simple bacteria or a virus would compromise her health. He had enough to deal with . . . Dakota becoming ill would gut him.

“You should both go to the house and get some sleep.”

JoAnne started to refuse and Walt raised his voice. “Mom. Please. I need to focus on Dad and not on arguing with you.”

She released a long-suffering sigh and walked out of the lobby.

Walt moved to Dakota’s side. “Thank you for taking her home.”

“Not a problem. How is he doing?”

He shook his head. “He’s sick. Needs surgery. It’s going to be a long week.”

“Let me know what I can do to help.”

Walt dropped his lips to hers. “Being here helps.”

“I’m a phone call away.”

“Text me when you get to the house.”

“OK.”

He kissed her again and watched her walk away.

Back inside the ICU, Walt took over where his mother left off.

When Millie came into the room to change his father’s IV solution and check his vitals, his father finally opened his eyes. “Leave me alone, Millie,” he told the nurse.

Walt laughed.

“Can’t do it, Dr. Eddy. I let you sleep an extra half an hour, but that’s it.”

“I’m going to remember this,” he threatened.

Walt met the eyes of the nurse and grinned. “He’s all bark, Millie.”

Walt’s father turned his head. “Well look who showed up. Thanksgiving was a few days ago.” He paused, pulled himself up higher in the bed, refusing Millie’s help. “You’re late.”

“If it meant this much to you, Dad, you could have just said so. Faking a heart attack to get me to fly in the dead of night is overkill.” He was smiling, enjoying the half smile on his father’s face.

“Good God,” Walter sighed. “A cardiac surgeon having an MI. What are the odds?”

“Really good according to your doctor. What the hell, Dad. You had to know this was coming.”

Millie took his dad’s temperature, and adjusted the amount of solution his father was getting in his IV. “I wanna see my lab work,” he told Millie. “Make sure Stanley isn’t overdosing me with Heparin.”

“He uses the same titration for his patients as you do for yours, Dr. Eddy.”

“Still wanna see my labs.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

Poor Millie. Walt made a mental note to deliver a bottle of good wine to every nurse having the privilege of caring for his father.

Millie finished her work and moved from the room.

“She’s one of the best nurses in the unit,” his dad said after she left the room.

“And yet you treat her like crap.”

He scoffed. “I send candy at Christmas.”

Far be it for Walt to explain hospital politics to his father. “Whatever works for you, Dad. I learned during my residency to respect the nursing staff and you’d never be jostled awake at two in the morning because your patient spiked a whopping 99.7 fever.”

“I need to know that stuff.”

“No, you need the nurse to order cultures and present them to you in the morning. A good nurse knows when to call, a nurse worried she’ll be reprimanded for doing the right job will call and second-guess everything they do. I bet you never get a good night’s sleep.”

Instead of commenting, Walter picked at the tape covering his IV line. “Where is your mother?”

“I sent her home. You didn’t tell her about your heart.”

“I didn’t want to worry her.”

“Too late.”

His dad dropped his head against his pillow. “I don’t like being on this side of the chart, Walter.”

“None of us do. Sucks being human.”

His dad offered a half smile. “I’m going to have to have surgery.”

Walt picked his words carefully. “You’re always telling me how routine bypass has become.”

“It is . . . it is.”

“. . . But?”

“Wrong side of the chart. I can’t control anything while I’m under.”