Crazy For You Alexander, S.B. (ebook reader 8 inch .TXT) 📖

“I couldn’t say,” Isaac said. “Aspiration pneumonia does come on rather rapidly, though, and is common in ALS patients.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I’d remembered Dad’s neurologist saying that very thing, which was why I always freaked out when Dad choked.

I stared at him through a cloud of tears, trying not to think the worst. “Can I be alone with him?”

I loved Nan to death, but I wanted time alone with my dad. Even if he wasn’t lucid, maybe he could hear me.

Nan patted my arm. “Take your time. I’m going to get coffee, and I need to call the hospice people back.”

My heart rate sped. Hospice was coming, so he probably only had a few months left.

Nan brushed a stray hair out of my eye. “It doesn’t mean he’s going to die in the next month. But we need to prepare, and a nurse will come in once or twice a week to monitor your dad’s progress and keep him comfortable.”

Even though I knew she was right, it seemed that we were hammering the final nail into Dad’s coffin. “I know.” I worried my trembling bottom lip. I wanted my dad around longer.

She pinned me with a motherly look, lifting her chin. “He needs us to be strong.”

I wasn’t sure if I could be. But she was right. If Dad—no, scratch that. When Dad woke up, I wanted him to see us happy.

Once Nan was gone and Isaac was no longer in the room, I mindlessly stared out the glass doors, digging deep for strength and courage. A group of nurses laughed at something Isaac was saying at their circular station, which seemed to be where the party was. Envy washed over me. I wanted to laugh as though I didn’t have a care in the world.

A tall man ambled toward the group, and it took me a second to realize it was Dr. Branson. He said something to the nurses before they broke up, scurrying to get back to work. Dr. Branson spoke with Isaac before he flicked his blond head of hair toward me.

Isaac’s lips moved as he responded to Dr. Branson. Georgia’s dad didn’t look pleased as the features around his green eyes wrinkled. Then he nodded to Isaac as he strutted my way.

I prepared for the bad news I was sure Dr. Branson would deliver. He entered with his hands tucked into his white coat pockets, stoic and professional instead of the casual and relaxed vibe he usually wore when I was at Georgia’s house.

Before he said anything, I was in his arms as though he could save Dad and me. “Please tell me he’ll come out of this.”

He grasped the sides of my arms, his expression soft. “I can’t, honey.”

I knew he couldn’t, but I wanted hope. I needed hope. I needed something to take away the grief burning a hole in my chest.

“Skyler, we’ll do everything we can.”

I could hear the “but” in his voice, and he didn’t have to say anything else.

“Can Georgia see my dad?” The hospital rules said only close family was allowed in, but Georgia was family. Besides, if anyone could break the rules, it was Dr. Branson. He was head of the ER.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s see how your dad responds to meds. And we’re about to run some scans on his lungs. Until then, no other visitors.”

“She doesn’t know about Dad,” I said. “I don’t have my phone, either.”

“I’ll tell her. I’ll be back after I have the results of the scan.”

The minute he was gone, I cried hard. The heaviness on my heart was too much. As I had a ton of times before, I checked his chest to make sure he was still breathing, although the monitor behind his bed said he was.

Holding Dad’s hand, I bowed my head. “God, if you’re listening, could you give my dad a little more time with me? And Dad, please pull through. I want a chance to tell you more about Colton. I want to tell you that I love you more than you know. I want to see you smile, to see your blue eyes light up when we reminisce about Mom.” I sighed, trying so hard not to collapse with grief, which was an impossible feat.

Whatever happened next was in God’s hands.

27

Nine solid days of hell had passed since Dad had been rushed to the hospital. I’d barely eaten or slept, and I definitely hadn’t gone to school. I wasn’t leaving Dad’s side even if truant officers tried to pry me away.

Nan had insisted I go home, have a shower, and get a good night’s sleep. I almost laughed in her face. Home was the last place I wanted to be. Too many memories, and Dad wasn’t there.

I couldn’t leave the hospital. I had to be close and able to react at a moment’s notice, especially since Dad had slipped into a coma. He’d had several ups and downs with his fever spiking, then dropping. The scan of his lungs showed pneumonia, which wasn’t surprising. What was, though, was the fact that meds weren’t working to clear it up.

A pine scent mixed with some other type of cleaning solution burned my nostrils as I passed an open door to a restroom on the first floor. The smell seemed to jar my brain and open my eyes just before I bumped into a person in a wheelchair.

I skirted around the old man. “I’m so sorry.”

The gray-haired man gave me an easygoing grin as though people ran into him all the time. I was sure they did. When Dad had gone out in public in his wheelchair, people didn’t pay an ounce of attention to where they were going and often stumbled or fell into him.

I continued down the hall, passing medical personnel. I was on my way to meet Georgia. I hadn’t seen her since the day Dad had been rushed in, and with him in ICU, there were definitely