Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I shook my head.
She cupped my elbow, yanked me to my feet, and ushered me through anyway.
Only once the door swung shut and she stood in front of it to prevent me from slipping back inside did she remove her mask and study me.
She was younger than I’d expected. Brisk and all business, the fine lines of early aging caused by a high-stress job didn’t detract from her auburn, freckled prettiness.
“You must be his wife?” Her Swiss-German accent reminded me all over again of the foreignness of this place and the lostness of being alone.
I gulped. The time for labels and titles was obsolete.
I might not lawfully be his wife, but by God, I was in spirit. “I am.” Balling my hands, I did my best to keep my voice from wobbling. “Will he be okay?”
She pursed her lips, weighing her words before slipping into a doctor’s spiel. “We’ve achieved a successful resuscitation. The administration of lidocaine will help stabilise his rhythm. The aim is to keep his pulse steady and prevent another arrest.” She paused before asking gently, “I believe his heart was also restarted prior to arriving here, is that correct?”
I nodded.
She sighed again. “That could create complications down the line, but we won’t focus on those just yet. He’s alive, that’s all that matters.” She smiled. “Look, I’m aware you don’t want to leave him, and I’m sympathetic to the worry you must feel, but—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Bracing myself for news I wouldn’t be strong enough to hear, I asked, “The complications...please tell me what they are. And anything else he’s suffering. I...I need to know.”
Pinning me with a brutal stare, she said, “Fine. His heart could have potential scarring from the prolonged use of high-voltage defibrillations. He might suffer a stroke if there are blood clots that have formed while his pulse has been intermittent. He might wake up in a few hours, or it might be a few weeks. This sort of trauma doesn’t come with a textbook, and his system might remain on shutdown for the foreseeable future.”
“He’ll be in a coma?”
“Possibly. It’s too soon to tell if he has brain damage from lack of oxygen. Even with the CPR administered, he may suffer neurological defects or lose cognitive ability. He might suffer amnesia and potential lifelong conditions that will require careful assistance.”
My mouth went dry.
The idea that he might not remember me.
That he could steal my heart and then not recognise me...
I moaned with pain.
I bit my lip until rusty blood filled my mouth.
I would pay any price to have him stay alive...even if it meant losing him in entirely different ways.
Blinking back my blinding grief, I forced myself not to break down. “Anything else?” My voice cracked, but I held it together.
The doctor gave me a sympathetic wince. “He has a few cracked ribs—most likely from the CPR. A fractured tibia, shattered ankle, four broken metatarsals, not including the prior wound that’s already received medical treatment. And his other leg also has a contusion on his kneecap and a possible crack in his femur. Those are just injuries obvious enough from a physical exam. To ensure there are no more, I’ll need to arrange for X-rays.” She crossed her arms. “Can you enlighten me why his legs are in such poor condition?”
I dropped my gaze to the grey and white linoleum. “He fell out of a helicopter into the sea.” I waited for some inhale, some sign of shock. Instead, all I received was professionalism, and for that, I was grateful.
“Well, he seems to have survived that catastrophe, so I have hopes he’ll survive this.”
A pause filled in the gaps between us before she asked, “What was he doing prior to cardiac arrest?”
My cheeks pinked. “We’d just finished having sex.”
“Sex? In his condition?” Her eyebrows flew up. “His pain threshold must be immense.”
“I know it wasn’t advisable, but— Eh, he...” I lowered my voice, fighting awful tears. “He was determined, almost as if he knew he was going to die.”
“Why would he assume that?”
“Because he...” I chewed my cheek. I had no choice but to tell her about Tritec, but I wasn’t an expert. I had no idea the ingredients flowing in his veins or the possible fatal reactions to other drugs they might have to administer. “You’ll need to call his main doctor. Jim Campbell is aware of his history. He took a drug called Tritec...I’m unsure how it works, but it overloads the system and can cause stroke, heart attack, and coma.”
“And he willingly took such a drug, knowing the side effects?” Her voice pitched with concern.
“He didn’t have a choice.”
Because I was in danger, and he put me first.
Because he sacrificed himself for me.
Because he took away my choice to keep him healthy instead of dead.
I gasped as black, bleeding pain crashed through me. Tears spilled, and the urge to be sick and faint and scream attacked me all at once. I was itchy and snappy, lost and tired.