Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Is Sylvie okay?” I demand as I sit up in bed, reaching over to turn on the light. Marcie sits straight up, hair mussed but looking at me with clear, worried eyes.
“No,” he replies and my entire body goes numb. “She’s on her way to the hospital. The ambulance is pulling out right now and I’m following.”
I put the phone on speaker so Marcie can hear and swing my legs out of bed. “What happened?”
Marcie scrambles out as well and we both nab our clothes from the floor.
“I don’t know. I was out and when I got home, I swung by Sylvie’s room to check on her. The door was open and I saw her on the floor. She was unconscious, barely breathing. I called 9-1-1 and they got here quick, Ethan.”
“But what happened?” I growl, setting the phone on the bed so I can get dressed while talking.
“I don’t know,” he snaps back, and I can hear the worry in his voice. If that asshole is worried, then I really need to be. “I came home. She was on the floor. I called the ambulance. Rosemund said she was fine after dinner. Went to bed around nine.”
I talked to her about eight thirty tonight and she was eager for me to pick her up early, but for no reason other than we were going to get her up on a horse today. Marcie too for that matter.
“Just get to the hospital,” Gabe says. “Anything I need to know or tell them? Has she been okay since she’s been with you?”
His question is legitimate and not accusatory. “She’s been fine. But remember to tell them she’s allergic to penicillin.”
“Yes, I know that,” Gabe replies. “We’re pulling in now. I’ll see you when you get here.”
♦
When we arrive at the hospital, Gabe meets us in the lobby, ushering me to the reception desk. “They’ve got her in a room and they’re working on her. They wouldn’t let me go back but they said you’d be able to. This is Sylvie Mardraggon’s father.”
I’m apparently expected as the woman buzzes back to someone. A door clicks open and the woman says, “Go down the hall all the way to the end, turn left and then take the second right. She’s in emergency bay two.”
I glance back at Marcie and I want to pull her into my arms and tell her it will all be okay, but I don’t know that. I don’t know anything right now. I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Call my parents and let them know what’s going on.”
She nods, squeezes my hand and then reaches into her purse for her phone. I glance at Gabe, give him a nod and head through the doors.
When I reach the emergency bay, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a large glass window looking into a room where Sylvie lies in a bed with tubes everywhere. Her eyes are closed and she looks so small and fragile.
The door is open so I walk to it, step just inside. Three women are around her bed and I’m ignored at first, but then one of them, who I assume is a doctor, sees me. “I’m Dr. Jacobs. You’re Sylvie’s father?”
“Yeah.” My eyes cut over to her. “Is she going to be okay?”
“We’re treating her as best we can right now. She’s got very low blood pressure and a weak pulse, plus some difficulty breathing. Her EKG is normal, but we can’t rule out a heart issue. I’ve got her going on fluids and oxygen and we’ve given her a dose of epinephrine to help raise her blood pressure and improve blood flow to the heart. Right now, she’s stable and we’re going to admit her.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging my hand through my hair. “What do we do now?”
“Tests,” Dr. Jacobs says. “We’re running her blood work now and I want to get a CT scan of her chest. I’ve asked for cardiology and pulmonology consults.”
“Can I stay in here with her?”
Dr. Jacobs smiles. “Of course. She’s been drifting in and out, but she’ll be happy you’re here. She asked for you.”
I nod mutely and move to the side of her bed. Taking her small hand in mine, I start praying for her.
♦
Marcie rubs my lower back as we sit side by side at Sylvie’s bed. She was moved into her own room on the children’s floor a few hours ago and she’s been sleeping since then. I took a few minutes to talk to my family, who showed up en masse, and they’re all still waiting in the lobby for an update. I tried to make them go home, promising to keep them apprised of developments, but Kat called me an asshole for suggesting such a thing.
The sun has risen, but it’s gloomy and overcast, same as my mood. Sylvie was taken for a CT scan and Dr. Jacobs said it was clear, which is a good thing. The consult doctors will be by this morning but I’m getting agitated that no one seems to have any answers yet.