“I hate this,” Dawn hissed as we rolled through the crowded concourse. “I feel like everyone’s staring at us.”
“That’s because they are,” I replied, watching the sea of people part to let us pass through. Like Dawn, I could feel their eyes following us long after we’d left them in our wake. “Welcome to my world.”
“Please. I’ve been living in your world for the last… fifteen years, at least – ever since Michael first started using a wheelchair. People used to stare at him, too.” After a pause, she added, “I’ve just never been on this side of it before.”
I looked over at her, noticing how stiffly she sat in the standard airport wheelchair, her arms wrapped protectively around the portable oxygen concentrator she carried in her lap as the escort pushed her slowly through the crowd. “Yeah, well, now you know how I feel – how your son must have felt. At least, for you, it’s only temporary.” Seeing her flinch, I immediately felt bad. “Sorry… didn’t mean to be an asshole. It’s been a long day.”
Dawn let out a low groan. “Tell me about it. I’m so tired, I’ll probably fall asleep as soon as my head hits that flat hospital pillow.”
“Only to be woken up half an hour later for a vitals check,” I said, chuckling.
She snorted and shook her head. “Ain’t that the truth? I hate hospitals.”
“Me too. But, hey – at least you’ll be in one that’s close to home.”
“Yeah…” She glanced over at me, offering a grateful smile. “Thanks again for that.”
“Thank Natalie when you see her. She’s the one who got us on this flight. Rodney’s crew arranged the rest.” I tipped my head toward Dawn’s escort, Rodney, the flight nurse I had hired to accompany us from Atlanta to Lexington.
Natalie was also the one who had suggested using a medical escort service. “I see them from time to time on my flights,” she’d told me over the phone. “Registered nurses or paramedics fly with people who are medically fragile and may need monitoring or treatment during the flight. From my understanding, it’s much more affordable than a private air ambulance.”
With her help, I’d found a reputable company that could provide a medical escort for Dawn on short notice. They had even worked with the hospitals to arrange for the transfer, while Natalie had taken advantage of her employee benefits in order to book four first-class seats on the last flight to Lexington. Brian had driven us to Atlanta, leaving my van parked at the airport for Natalie to pick up when she landed there the next morning. She would drive the van back to Lexington for me. In the meantime, my brother Jerald had agreed to pick me and Mason up from the airport and stay at the house with us overnight. I couldn’t wait to get home.
“How ya doin’, Mase?” I asked as Mason plodded along next to us, holding my hand as an airport attendant pushed my wheelchair through the crowd. It was way past his bedtime. He looked dead on his feet.
“Fine,” he replied vaguely.
“How about you, Dawn?” I asked once we reached our gate. “How ya feelin’?”
“Uncomfortable,” she admitted, adjusting the cannula in her nose. “I just wanna rip all this stuff off me.” Along with the oxygen tubes, she was wearing a portable heart monitor under her shirt to keep track of her heart’s rhythm and collect data for her cardiologist in Kentucky to analyze. “I guess I’m not a very good patient.”
“Hang in there,” I said, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Hopefully, you won’t have to wear it for much longer.”
“Hopefully,” she echoed with a wistful sigh as she gazed out the dark window.
When pre-boarding began, we were the first ones on the plane. A pair of airport attendants transferred me to my seat while Dawn’s escort helped her get settled into hers. By the time the plane was ready for takeoff, Mason had fallen asleep, curled up in the window seat beside me. He slept for the duration of the flight, waking up as we landed in Lexington an hour and fifteen minutes later.
“We’ll be home soon, buddy,” I told him as we waited for the other passengers to disembark. As always, we were the last to leave the plane.
Two wheelchairs were waiting at the top of the jet bridge. Dawn was already sitting in one of them, looking thoroughly disgruntled. “One more minute won’t make much difference,” I heard her telling her nurse, Rodney. “I just wanna say goodbye before we go.”
I was relieved to find my manual chair in one piece, with all the parts we had removed before boarding already put back into place. “Did you put my chair back together?” I asked Dawn as the airport attendants unstrapped me from the aisle chair they had used to roll me off the plane.
She nodded. “I’m sure these gentlemen would have done it for you, but I figured it’d be faster if I did it myself. I didn’t notice any damage.”
“No, it looks fine to me.” I paused as the attendants lifted me off the aisle chair and lowered me into my manual one. “Feels fine, too,” I added, taking off the brakes so I could wheel myself back and forth. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Dawn glanced up at Rodney, who was checking his watch. “I guess the ambulance is already here waiting to take me to the hospital, so we’d better get going.”
“We’re right behind you,” I replied. “C’mon, Mase.”
Mason clung to my hand as one of the attendants pushed me up the jet bridge and through the concourse, which was practically empty compared to the crowded Atlanta airport. We followed Rodney and Dawn to baggage claim, where the rest of the passengers from our flight were waiting. Through the glass doors across from the carousels, I could see an ambulance parked outside the exit, its lights flashing through the darkness.
“Hey, Kev! Over here!” Hearing my name, I turned my head and spotted my brother Jerald waving at me from the furthest carousel, which had begun spitting luggage out onto its moving belt.
“Uncle Jerald!” Mason immediately let go of my hand and ran over to him.
I tipped my chin to acknowledge him, too, thanked the airport attendant for his assistance, and then turned to Dawn. “Don’t worry about waiting for your bag,” I told her. “Once you get settled tonight, send me a text with anything you may want or need, and I’ll bring it to the hospital when I visit tomorrow.”
She nodded, offering me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Kevin.” Then, ignoring Rodney’s cry of protest, she slipped the cannula out of her nose and set the oxygen concentrator and tubing down on the seat of her wheelchair as she rose out of it. “Thanks for everything,” she added, bending down to hug me. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
I wrapped my arms around her and rubbed her back with my balled hands. “I could say the same about you, but I guess I’m about to find out,” I replied, finally letting go as she straightened up in front of me.
“You’ll be fine,” she assured me, her hand lingering on my shoulder. “You’ve got a great family and a girlfriend who’s perfectly capable of filling in for me.”
“I know… but it’s not the same,” I said, flashing her a tight smile. “Just hurry up and get better, so you can come back home.”
She forced a smile back. “I’ll try my best.”
Rodney cleared his throat and took a step toward us. “Sorry to interrupt, but we really do need to get going now, ma’am,” he said, touching Dawn’s arm.
“My chariot awaits,” she said with a sigh, glancing out at the ambulance as Rodney guided her back to the wheelchair. “Y’all had better head home and put Mason to bed. It’s late, and he’s got school in the morning.”
I nodded. “Try to get some rest tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised as Rodney helped her get settled, putting the oxygen tubes back in place. A lump rose in my throat as I watched him push her out the door, where a pair of paramedics were waiting with a stretcher to put her in the back of the ambulance. Swallowing hard, I turned away and wheeled myself toward Jerald.
***
None of us slept well that night, but we still woke up bright and early the next day and went about our usual morning routine. I tried to pretend it was just a typical Tuesday for my son’s sake, but Mason wasn’t fooled for a moment.
“I don’t wanna go to school today,” he whined while Jerald fixed breakfast for us. “I wanna go see Dawn.”
“You can see her after school. Visiting hours don’t start until four o’clock anyway,” I lied.
Mason seemed to accept this answer, although he wasn’t too happy about it. He pouted through breakfast and barely touched his eggs and toast. Still, Jerald made sure he was dressed and out the door on time, taking him down to the bottom of the driveway to wait for his school bus while I sent an apologetic email to his teacher, explaining that a family emergency had kept him up late the night before. I felt guilty for sending a tired, cranky kid to class, but I didn’t want Mason to miss another day of school. Besides, I figured kindergarten had to be less boring than a hospital room.
Visiting hours actually started at eleven, so before Jerald left for work, I had him help me pack an overnight bag for Dawn. We put in a pair of pajamas, her slippers and robe, clean underwear, and a change of clothes, along with the toiletry case she’d taken to Georgia and the paperback novel she’d left lying on her nightstand – things I hoped would help make her hospital stay a little more comfortable.
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Jerald asked as he put the bag on the passenger seat of my truck. “I can take the day off if I need to.”
“Nah… I’ll be fine,” I told him. “I really don’t need much help until bedtime, and Natalie should be here by then. She can handle my night routine by herself. But thanks for all your help.”
“Anytime, baby brother,” he said, clapping me on the back. “You know I’m always here for ya. Just holler if you need anything else.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Jer.”
When Jerald headed off to work, I went back into the house. It felt eerily quiet and empty without anyone else around. Even on weekdays, when Mason was at school, I was used to hearing Dawn’s heavy footsteps thumping up and down the stairs, strains of muffled rock music blaring from her earbuds as she did the housework. Since she’d moved in with us, I had rarely been left alone for longer than an hour or two. Aside from her weekly trips into town to get groceries and run errands, Dawn was almost always home to help when I needed her.
I felt reasonably confident in my ability to fend for myself until Natalie arrived, but the realization that there was no one around to assist me in case of an emergency was a little frightening. I couldn’t stop my mind from imagining the worst-case scenarios. What if I fell out of my wheelchair and couldn’t get back into it? What if the elevator broke down, trapping me between floors? What if I developed autonomic dysreflexia and couldn’t find or fix the cause?
Trying not to worry, I turned on the TV for background noise while I cleaned up the kitchen. Knowing how big the University of Kentucky’s hospital campus was, I’d had Jerald help me transfer to my power chair, which made it easier for me to multitask. It felt cumbersome compared to the compact manual chair I used most days, but the fact that I could control it with one hand on the joystick, freeing up my other hand to hold things and preventing my arms from tiring, made it the better option that morning. To pass the time until visiting hours began, I did my best to tidy up downstairs, keeping my phone within reach and carefully avoiding the elevator – just in case.
At ten-thirty, I got into my truck and drove to the hospital. I parked in one of the decks, took an accessible shuttle to the front door, and stopped by the information desk inside to ask for directions to Dawn’s room. On the way, I popped into the gift shop and bought the biggest bouquet of flowers I could carry. I could barely see past the colorful blossoms as I puttered through the wide hallways, clutching the large vase perched on my lap with one arm while the other worked the joystick. I was far from inconspicuous, but the people who passed me by seemed to stare less than they probably would have outside of a hospital setting. For once, the wheelchair made me blend in more than stand out, while the flowers helped to hide my famous face.
Finally, I found my way to Dawn’s eighth-floor room. The door was closed, so I raised my fist and knocked. “Wait just a minute, please!” called a female voice I didn’t recognize. After a few minutes, the door opened, and a nurse walked out. “You must be here to see Dawn,” she said, smiling at me. “She’s ready for visitors now. Go right in.” She held the door open for me as I rolled into the room.
Dawn was propped up in bed, wearing a hospital gown and a pained expression. When she saw me, she tried to force a smile onto her face, twisting her lips into a tight line that looked like more of a grimace than a grin. “Hey,” she exhaled hoarsely, hitching her blanket up higher to cover her bottom half.
“Hey,” I echoed as I inched closer to her bed, still clutching the bouquet of flowers. “I brought you these.”
“Thank you. They’re beautiful!” She managed a more genuine smile, one that actually met her eyes. “Can you put them by the window? I’d do it myself, but it’s not so easy for me to get out of bed right now.”
Noticing the web of tubes and wires tethering her to the equipment that surrounded her hospital bed, I nodded. “No problem. I’ve got it.” I carried the bouquet across the room and carefully placed it on a small end table next to the couch beneath the large window. “Nice view,” I said, pausing to look out across the University of Kentucky campus. I could see Commonwealth Stadium, where the Wildcats football team played, in the distance.
“Is it?” She sighed. “I wouldn’t know.”
I turned my chair back toward her bed, surprised to hear her sound so gloomy. “So, how ya doin’ today?”
Dawn shook her head. “Not great,” she admitted. “I’ve barely slept a wink since I got here, so forgive me for being a grouch.”
“You and Mason both,” I said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “I hope he doesn’t take it out on his teacher and classmates today. I haven’t gotten a call from the school yet, so I guess that’s a good sign.”
She chuckled. “Poor kiddo. Sorry for keeping him up so late last night.”
“Not like you could help it. Hopefully he’ll take a nap when he gets home, but I bet he’ll wanna come here and see you. He mentioned it this morning.”
“Aww… well, you can always tell him I’m taking a nap, too. Lord knows I need one,” she said, stifling a yawn with her hand.
“I hope you’re not taking it out on your nurses and doctors either,” I teased her with a wink.
“I’m trying not to. I’ve been on that side of the bed before as a CNA, and, trust me, I know how much it sucks to be treated like crap by the people you’re trying to take care of. But I’m not used to being the one in the bed. Turns out, this sucks more.” She sighed again as she leaned back against her pillows and looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry. Like I said last night, I’m a terrible patient.”
“Hey, you don’t have to keep apologizing to me,” I told her. “I’ve been there. I get it.”
She nodded, one corner of her mouth twitching into a tiny, crooked smile. “I know. And I appreciate you being here. Thanks for letting me vent.”
“Anytime. I’m always willing to listen. That’s one thing I’m still pretty good at,” I said, grinning back. “But I won’t be offended if you want me to leave, so you can get some sleep. Just say the word, and I’ll go.”
She quickly shook her head. “You can stay as long as you like. I’m happy to have someone to talk to… something to take my mind off all of this.”
“Oh, hey, before I forget, I brought an overnight bag with some of your stuff. I threw in the book you were reading – thought it might help to pass the time. It’s on the back of my chair.” I turned around, so she could retrieve the bag I had hung from my head rest.
“Thanks! That was really thoughtful of you,” said Dawn, reaching over to set the bag down on the floor next to her bed. I heard her heart monitor beep as she straightened back up, red-faced and breathing harder than before.
Glancing up at it, I watched the wavy green line race across the screen, rising and falling in regular intervals. “You’re welcome. Lemme know if you need anything else from home. I wasn’t sure how long you’d have to stay here…” I left the statement hanging, hoping she would take the opportunity to share more information about how she was doing without me having to ask directly. Friends or not, I knew her medical condition was none of my business. I didn’t want to pry, but I was both curious and concerned about her.
Dawn seemed to understand. “I’m not sure yet either, but it could be a few days,” she said dejectedly. “They did a chest X-ray when I got here last night and found out I have fluid in my lungs, which would explain why I’ve been short of breath. They’re still trying to figure out why.”
I frowned. “Did you tell them you had the flu last week? It could be pneumonia,” I said, remembering how worried she had been that I would develop the same complication.
Dawn nodded. “It could be… but I don’t think it is. I don’t have a fever, and the doctor said my white blood cell count was only slightly elevated, which pretty much rules out an infection. She had them do another EKG and an echocardiogram this morning. I’m still waiting to hear the results.”
I swallowed hard, hoping she was wrong and that it had nothing to do with her heart.
“In the meantime,” she went on with another sigh, “they started me on a diuretic to get rid of the extra fluid, so I’ve had to pee every half hour. The night nurse made me use a flippin’ bedpan – she said it was because she needed to measure my urine output, but I think it was more that she didn’t wanna mess with having to unplug all this stuff every time I got up to go to the bathroom and then hook me back up afterward. Anyway, my poor day nurse must’ve gotten tired of me hitting my call button to have her come empty the bedpan because she just put in a catheter. And I know that probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to you now, but in case you never experienced the pleasure of having one of those inserted before you were paralyzed, lemme tell ya – it’s not exactly comfortable.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I replied, cringing. “But, hey, at least you won’t have to use a bedpan anymore. You can just lie there and… let it flow.”
Dawn laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Sorry… that was probably a little TMI, huh?”
I shook my head. “There’s no such thing as Too Much Information between us,” I assured her, thinking of all the times we had talked about my own bathroom habits in the four years she’d been taking care of me. It was kind of nice not to be the subject of conversation for once.
Around noon, Dawn’s lunch was delivered on a covered tray. “Don’t feel like you have to sit there and watch me eat,” she said as she took the lid off a limp-looking garden salad. “You can go down to the cafeteria and grab something for yourself if you want.”
“Nah, I’m okay. You know me – I never have much of an appetite,” I replied with a shrug. Thankfully, the eggs from breakfast had filled me up because the last thing I felt like doing was going all the way back down to the first floor and trying to carry a tray of food up to Dawn’s room without dropping it. The mere thought of doing so flooded my mind with anxiety. Despite my claims that I didn’t need much help during the day, there were still plenty of settings and situations that I didn’t feel confident navigating without some assistance. Getting food from a crowded hospital cafeteria would never be as simple as “grab and go” for me.
“Well, I normally do, but… not today,” said Dawn, making a face at her meal. “There is nothing on this tray that looks remotely appetizing to me.”
“The dessert doesn’t look bad.” I tipped my chin toward a small piece of fluffy white cake that was topped with sliced strawberries and a tiny dollop of whipped cream. “What is that, angel food?”
“You can have it if you want. Personally, I’d rather have devil’s food,” she replied, smirking.
I chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m not gonna take your food. I’m not gonna try to force you to eat it either. But lemme know if you get hungry later and start craving something else. I could always ask Natalie to pick something up and bring it by when she gets into town.”
“Contraband!” Dawn joked. I was glad to see a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes. “But that’s okay; I’ll be fine. It wouldn’t kill me to lose a few pounds.” She patted her belly through the thin hospital blanket. “So, have you talked to Natalie today? Is she on her way here?”
I nodded. “She texted to let me know she’d landed in Atlanta and called me as she was getting ready to leave her apartment. She asked if her cat, Colby, could come with her. I told her I didn’t care, but I probably should have checked with you first. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
Dawn shrugged. “I dunno, never had one. I’m not a big fan of cats, to be honest – always been more of a dog person – but I don’t mind. It’s your house, not mine. You don’t need my permission to have a cat there.”
“It’s your house, too,” I told her. “I want you to be comfortable when you come home.”
“As long as Colby doesn’t bite and Natalie cleans his litter box, I’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal to me,” said Dawn. “But, hey, this is a big step for the two of you! The fact that’s bringing her cat all this way could mean she’s finally considering moving in with you full time.”
“Yeah, maybe…” That thought had occurred to me, too, but I hadn’t broached the subject with Natalie since our last conversation about her living in Lexington. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But Dawn was right: it was a good sign that Natalie wanted Colby to accompany her to Kentucky. If nothing else, that told me she intended to stay for a while.
I watched Dawn pick at her lunch until an attendant came to take her barely-touched tray away. Afterward, she turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until she found a trashy daytime talk show to entertain us. Her eyelids began to droop during the commercial breaks, and she dozed off before the DNA results came back. By the time we found out who the father was, Dawn was snoring softly and drooling down the front of her hospital gown.
As the first show ended and the next one began, I reached for the remote, intending to turn down the volume so it didn’t disturb her sleep. But, of course, the remote slipped right out of my hand and fell onto her bed tray with a loud clatter, startling her awake.
“Sorry,” I whispered as Dawn took a gasping breath and began to cough. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Are you okay?”
Dawn had doubled over in bed, coughing so hard that she could barely speak. But she nodded and held up her hand as if to say, “Give me a minute.” I waited anxiously for the coughing fit to subside, keeping a close on the oxygen level that was displayed on her monitor to make sure it didn’t drop too low. Finally, after a minute or so, Dawn lay back against the head of her bed, her chest heaving. “I’m all right,” she croaked, taking ragged breaths through the cannula in her nose. I could hear the air wheezing in and out of her lungs.
I offered her a sympathetic smile, trying to mask my concern. “I should probably go soon, so you can get some rest.”
“Sorry I’m such lame company,” she said, wiping the white crust from the corners of her lips. “But don’t feel like you have to leave – unless you want to, of course.”
She looked exhausted, yet she sounded like she didn’t want to be left alone. “Have you called your family?” I asked her. “Do they know you’re in the hospital?”
She shook her head. “I thought it would be better to wait until I knew more about what’s going on with me and how long I’m gonna be here. My folks live two hours away; I don’t want them driving here or worrying about me when it could be nothing, you know?”
“I get that. But you should probably give them a call at some point. They’d wanna know.”
Dawn nodded. “I will once I’ve talked to my doctor. She said she’d be back to go over my test results later today.”
“I’ll stay until then,” I offered, “or at least until Mason gets out of school.”
“Sounds good,” she agreed, shooting me a grateful smile.
As the afternoon wore on, Dawn nodded off again, waking whenever the nurse came in to check her vitals, only to drift back to sleep soon afterward. While she napped, I watched TV, did my weight shifts, and checked my phone for word from Natalie.
Halfway there! Natalie texted me around two, along with a selfie of her standing between my van and a gas pump. Judging by the mountains I saw in the background, she was somewhere in Tennessee.
Livin’ on a prayer, I texted back, thinking of the last time we’d been there together. Drive safe!
I will, she promised. Should be there by five!
Only three more hours, I thought with relief as I read her last text. I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in almost a month. I couldn’t wait to hold her… and kiss her… and-
“What are you smiling at?” Dawn’s voice startled me so badly, I dropped my phone. It bounced off my lap and clattered to the floor at my feet. “Shit – I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her teasing tone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” I replied, my heart pounding in my throat. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”
“Damn… I didn’t realize I’d dozed off again. Do you need me to get that for you?” she asked as I undid my chest strap and doubled over, reaching down to try to retrieve my phone.
“No… I got it,” I grunted, knowing she would have an even harder time getting out of bed without getting tangled up in her tubes and wires. “I need to learn… how to be… more independent…” It took a few tries, but I finally managed to hook my fingers through the back of my phone case and lift it up from the floor. By the time I finished pushing myself back into an upright position, I was completely out of breath. “See?” I panted, putting my phone back in its pouch on the side of my chair. “Easy peasy.”
She smiled. “C’mere. At least let me fix your strap for you.”
I brought my chair right up alongside her bed, so she could reach me. “Thanks,” I said as she refastened the velcro strap across my front.
“No problem,” she replied, patting my chest. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost two.”
Dawn let out a sigh as she leaned back against her pillow. “You should probably get going soon. Mason will be home in an hour.”
“I know. I’ve got a little time, though. And I can always come back later if you want me to.”
“Nah… Natalie will be here by then. That’s what you were smiling about, right?”
I nodded. “How did you know?”
“Because you always get that silly grin on your face when you’re talking to Natalie,” she said, smiling at me. “I’m glad she makes you happy.”
“Me too.” I didn’t know what else to say to that. A part of me felt guilty for being happy while Dawn was in the hospital, but I knew she wouldn’t hold it against me. She understood better than most people how lonely I had been before Natalie came into my life.
Before either of us could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Dawn called. The door opened, and a slim, sandy-haired woman in a white coat walked into the room.
“Hello again, Dawn,” she greeted her, then gave me a polite nod. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dr. Snider, Dawn’s cardiologist.” She extended her right hand to me.
“Kevin,” I said, holding out my balled hand for a fist bump instead. “I’m a friend of Dawn’s.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Dr. Snider, her smile faltering as she awkwardly brushed her knuckles against mine. Clearing her throat, she quickly turned her attention back to Dawn. “Dawn, I need to talk to you about your test results. Do you feel comfortable having your friend here with you, or would you rather he leave the room while we have this discussion?”
“He can stay,” Dawn said quickly, glancing over at me. I gave her an encouraging smile, but she barely smiled back.
“Okay.” Dr. Snider pulled one of the visitor chairs over to the opposite side of Dawn’s bed and sat down. “So, as you know, we’ve run a number of tests since you arrived last night to take a closer look at your heart and hopefully rule out a cardiac cause for the fainting episode that led to your hospitalization. Like I said this morning, the symptoms you’ve been experiencing – fatigue, bloating, back pain, shortness of breath, dizziness upon standing – are fairly non-specific and can be attributed to many different conditions. But, given your history, you were right to be concerned about your heart.”
Dawn nodded. Her face was a blank mask. With a tone of resignation, she replied, “So, how bad is it?”
The doctor took a deep breath. “Well, I wish I had better news for you, Dawn, but I’m afraid the tests do indicate a significant decrease in your heart function since the last time it was evaluated,” she said. “The findings suggest that you have a form of dilated cardiomyopathy, which is a weakening of the heart muscle, most likely caused by the same genetic mutation that led to your son’s muscular dystrophy.”
When I looked back at Dawn, I saw the mask slip as tears welled up in her blue eyes. But she didn’t look the least bit blindsided by the diagnosis. In a way, she must have been prepared for it. Meanwhile, I felt like I had just been suckerpunched. My breath caught in my throat as Dr. Snider continued to explain.
“As the cardiac muscle weakens, your heart has to work harder to pump blood efficiently. Over time, this causes the left ventricle – the main pumping chamber – to become enlarged, which affects its ability to pump oxygenated blood to the rest of your body. That’s why you’ve felt dizzy and short of breath during physical activity. It’s progressed to a point where your heart can’t keep up with the demands you’ve been putting on it anymore.”
As I listened to the doctor’s words, a wave of deja vu washed over me. I suddenly recalled witnessing a similar conversation between Nick and his doctor the day he was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy. I couldn’t believe it. How could this be happening to someone else I cared about?
“When the heart begins to fail, it can lead to a backup of blood that causes fluid to leak and accumulate in the lungs and lower limbs.” She lifted the bottom of Dawn’s blanket to look at her legs, which were encased in a pair of white compression hose. “See how swollen your feet are? That’s called edema. The diuretic you’ve been taking should help your body excrete the excess fluid.”
“Oh yeah – it’s been excreting, all right.” Dawn glanced over at me, flashing a wry grin as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. When Nick was first diagnosed, I’d felt guilty for not knowing just how much he had been struggling, both physically and emotionally, while he was living with me. Come to find out, he had been drinking heavily and doing drugs right under my nose, and I’d had no idea until he’d done enough damage to land himself in the hospital. Now, once again, I found myself wondering how I could have missed the warning signs in Dawn. Of course, many of her symptoms could be attributed to having the flu, but how had I failed to notice her swollen feet? My own doctor had warned me that edema was a sign of heart disease. I saw Dawn every day and sat next to her on the couch nearly every night. I should have seen the changes in her, should have suspected that something was seriously wrong. But, with all the trips I’d taken recently, I hadn’t been around her as much as usual. Instead, I’d been in Florida… California… Tennessee… New York… Georgia… Jamaica. Over the past few months, I had become so preoccupied with my music career and my relationship with Natalie that I hadn’t paid much attention to how Dawn was doing. Only now did I realize how much I had taken her for granted.
“Do you have any questions so far?” Dr. Snider paused, giving Dawn time to process everything she’d been told.
“Just one,” Dawn replied. “What can we do about this?” Despite the grim diagnosis, she sounded remarkably calm.
“Cardiomyopathy is a chronic condition. While there’s no cure for it, it can be managed with medication, lifestyle changes, and, in some cases, surgery,” her doctor answered. “Our first goal of treatment will be to find the right combination of medications to reduce your symptoms and get you feeling better. I’m going to put you on a few different drugs that will help your heart pump harder and reduce its workload by widening your blood vessels, allowing blood to flow more easily. You’ll need to stay in the hospital for at least a few more days, so we can monitor you and make sure the medication is working.”
Dawn sighed. “So much for Aspen,” she said, looking apologetically at me.
“Aspen?” asked the doctor.
“I was supposed to go skiing there with Kevin this weekend. It would have been my first time… but I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Don’t worry about that now, Dawn,” I said, shaking my head. “We can always go next winter.”
“Yeah,” she replied hollowly. “Maybe.”
Dr. Snider frowned. “That is unfortunate timing, but it’s a good thing you went to the emergency room when you did,” she said seriously. “I don’t want to scare you, Dawn, but you seem like a straight-shooter, so I’m going to be direct: You arrived here with what we call ‘acute decompensated heart failure,’ which happens when one’s symptoms worsen suddenly, like yours did yesterday. If you had waited any longer to seek medical treatment, it could have become life-threatening. Exercising in cold weather at a high altitude would have increased the workload on your heart and further exacerbated your condition, putting you at risk of sudden cardiac arrest or other serious complications.”
I watched what little color was left in Dawn’s white face drain away. “Damn,” she swore, looking down at her lap. “Well, I guess I won’t be going next winter either.”
“Let’s see how you’re doing in a year. We can discuss it more then,” Dr. Snider said kindly, dropping her harsh tone. “Do you have any other questions for me now?”
Dawn shook her head.
“I know this is a lot to digest,” the doctor added, “and you’ll probably think of more questions later. When you do, write them down so you don’t forget. Why don’t you take some time to process what I’ve told you and try to get some rest? I’ll come back to check on you before I leave for the day.”
“Okay… thanks,” Dawn whispered.
When the doctor left, closing the door behind her, I looked over at Dawn. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply extended my hand to her. She took it, entwining her fingers around mine, and held on tight.
For almost a full minute, neither one of us spoke. Then, finally, Dawn said softly, “So, what am I gonna do now?”
I had never heard her sound so defeated and weak. For once, I felt like the strong one. The realization filled me with fresh resolve. In the last few years, Dawn had done so much to help me heal and move forward with my life. I was determined to do the same for her.
“You’re gonna focus on getting better,” I replied firmly. “Don’t worry about anything but that right now. No matter what, I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
She flashed me a wavering smile as fresh tears filled her eyes. “Don’t forget about Mason,” she said, sniffling. “You’d better get home before the bus drops him off.”
I shook my head. “I’ll call my mom right now and have her run over to the house to wait for him. I’m not gonna leave you alone.”
“I’ll be all right,” she insisted, but I ignored her and made the call anyway.
“Hey, Ma, it’s me,” I said when my mother answered. I clutched the phone close to my ear and talked quietly, trying to be discreet even though I knew Dawn could hear my every word. “I need your help. Dawn’s in the hospital. I’m here with her now. She just got some bad news, and I don’t wanna leave her. Do you think you could make it to my house by three to meet Mason’s school bus and stay there with him until I get home?”
“Well, of course, honey! But what’s goin’ on with Dawn?” she asked, sounding concerned.
“It’s kind of a long story; I’ll tell you more later,” I promised. “Thanks so much, Ma. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem at all! I’m putting on my shoes and heading out the door right now,” she replied. “Tell Dawn I’ll be praying for her.”
“I will. Thanks again!” Ending the call, I set my phone down on my lap and looked up at Dawn. “She’s on her way and said she’ll pray for you.”
“That’s real sweet of her,” Dawn said, smiling.
“That’s my momma. Now, when you are gonna call yours and tell her what’s going on?”
Dawn sighed, her smile fading. “Not today. I can’t deal with my folks right now. I’m too damn tired.”
“It’s all right.” Immediately, I wished I hadn’t asked. I didn’t want to put any more pressure on her or make her feel worse. “You don’t have to do it today. There’s always tomorrow. For now, just try to rest.” I reached out to her, rubbing her shoulder with the heel of my hand. “I’ll be right here for as long as you want me to be.”
“Thanks, Kevin.” She closed her eyes briefly, sucking in a deep breath through her cannula before adding, “In case I haven’t said it enough, I really do appreciate you keeping me company.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do, after everything you’ve done for me. Let me take care of you for once.”
Dawn let out a sound that could have been a laugh or a cough. “I can’t remember the last time someone offered to do that. I’ve always been the one who takes care of people… not the other way around.”
“Look, I know you’re tough as nails, but you can’t be the strong one all the time,” I told her. “It’s like the song: We all need somebody to lee-ean on.” I saw her eyes light up when I sang the lyric. Encouraged, I kept going. “Lean on me… when you’re not strong… and I’ll be your friend. I’ll help you carry on. For it won’t be long… till I’m gonna need… somebody to lee-ean on.”
“I love that song,” she said, sniffling softly as a single tear trickled down her cheek. “And I love your voice. You don’t sound like a typical boyband singer, you know.”
I laughed. “Thanks… I think.”
“It’s a compliment, Kevin. You know I don’t like boybands.”
“Oh, c’mon,” I said, pretending to be offended. “You mean to tell me that after all these years of living with me, you don’t even like the Backstreet Boys?”
“All right, fine – I don’t like most boybands,” she amended, cracking a smile. “But I guess I can make an exception for yours.”
I flashed her a triumphant grin in return. “Good answer,” I replied as I raised my hand to the side of her face, using the base of my thumb to wipe away her stray tear.
***