The Second Half (26 page)

A woman with a clipboard stopped her at the swinging door that now cut off her view. “Please, Mrs. Sorenson, I know you are frantic, but right now they can work faster without you there. Here comes Dr. Washington to ask you what all has happened, and meanwhile, I'll get the paperwork in place. This is your grandson, right?”

“Yes, and we are his legal guardians. Here are copies of the guardianship materials. And all medical records, of course.”

“Good.” She stepped back, and a man who looked barely old enough to be in college introduced himself.

“Please tell me what happened.”

She told him all that occurred and what they had done as concisely as possible, clenching her hands together to keep them from shaking. And she realized you can talk about something even while praying inside.

Ken came in and stopped beside her. “We thought he'd caught a flu bug or something simple, like kids do.”

“A reasonable deduction.” He glanced at a chart. “You called here about seven?”

“Yes, because we could see he was getting worse. I figured he was dehydrated by then,” Mona added.

“Wise move. We'll let you be with him as soon as we can, so for right now, please help Dahl there get her paperwork under control.”

Waiting took forever. Ken alternately paced and stared out the window. Mona called Marit to say what they knew and asked her to call the prayer chain. Something was seriously wrong with Jake. But they had no idea what.

A
ll the signs point to intussusception, but we will do an MRI to be sure. You can see him now, but he is pretty woozy from the meds, so don't be alarmed if he doesn't respond like he usually does.”

“Would you please repeat that word you said?”

“Yes, intussusception, a collapsing of a portion of the bowel. If this is the case, we will do surgery immediately before it causes further problems. A kid like him will bounce back fairly quickly, but we'll be keeping him here for a few days at least. As soon as we know more, we'll bring you up to date, too. Dahl has papers for you to sign, permission for surgery being one of them. I'll keep you posted.” As the young doctor left by one door, Pastor Oliver entered the waiting room from the hall.

He immediately put an arm around each of their shoulders. “What a shocker.”

Ken nodded while Mona blew her nose. “He said intussusception, a portion of the bowel collapsing in on itself. If the initial diagnosis is accurate, they'll go in and remove that section.”

“I take it this isn't potentially fatal.”

“If not dealt with quickly, it can lead to worse complications. He'll be here a few days.”

“And we can't tell Steig.” Mona's tears ran again in spite of her tissues.

Pastor Oliver nodded. “I see. Good thing we all know and absolutely believe this is not a surprise to God. He always has a plan.” He looked directly at each of them, waiting for a confirmative nod. “And the Holy Spirit is right here with us and will never leave.”

“Like Jakey says, pointing more to his tummy. ‘Jesus is right here in me,'” Mona reminded them.

“Ah, the faith of children.”

A nurse came through the door. “You can see him now, come with me.” She led the three of them through a maze of curtained cubicles past the nurses' station and finally pulled the curtain back to where Jake lay, head propped up only a little, connected to tubes and machines that hummed or clicked, with screens that transmitted information if one knew how to read them.

Ken and Mona moved to the side of least apparatuses. Mona took his free hand. “Jakey, Grammy and Grampy are here. Can you hear me?”

Jake's eyes fluttered but didn't quite open. They'd have missed the tiny nod had they not been watching so carefully.

“He's not in any pain right now, and all his vitals are good. As soon as they do the MRI, they will most likely take him directly to surgery. They are preparing the OR now.”

A man in blue scrubs pulled back the curtain. “Excuse me, but we are on our way to the MRI.” He pushed a gurney up to the bed.

“We'll take good care of him, I promise.” The nurse motioned them to step out of the way. When Jake was transferred and ready, Mona leaned over and kissed his forehead, as did Ken.

“We love you, Jakey; see you when you wake up again.” Mona leaned against Ken as they watched the gurney being pushed down the hall and through two swinging doors.
Lord, how do we get through this? I know, trust You, and I do, but this is so hard. On the other hand, where else can I go? He is so little.

The three of them returned to the waiting room. “Have you eaten anything yet?” Oliver asked.

Ken and Mona looked at each other and shook their heads. Who'd even thought of food?

“Let's go to the cafeteria. We can talk there, too.”

“I want to wait until they tell us he has gone into surgery.” Mona glanced around like she was lost. “Did I leave my purse somewhere?” Ken pointed to the strap on her shoulder. Mona rolled her eyes. “I think they call this discombobulated.”

“Or grief stricken.” Oliver motioned them to the chairs. “Let's go sit in that corner and pray together. That will help us all.” Once they were seated, he took both their hands. “Lord God, You promised to comfort the afflicted, that Your peace passes all understanding. Right now, we need both comfort and peace, the assurance that You are indeed right here and overseeing the doctors and nurses, all who are caring for Jake. Lord, fill them with Your wisdom that far surpasses even the best training. Jake is Your child, as we all are. Waiting is so terribly difficult, but we know that You can and will help us through this period. Lord, we give You all the glory as You pour Your peace over and into us, this place, these people. We will keep our eyes on Your face, Jesus. You will not let us go.” He squeezed their hands. “Amen.”

“Thank you.” Ken looked up as some other people came into the room and took over another corner. One woman sat by herself, knitting needles flying. “Not a lot of people in here.”

“The front waiting room is full. I checked for you there when I came in.”

“Marit called you?”

“And the prayer chain. Our family is stepping up to the plate. Once you know what is happening, I will let them all know.”

The nurse returned. Mona glanced at the clock, surprised than almost an hour had passed.

“The MRI showed the location of an intussusception, so they are now moving him to the OR and sedating him. The surgery will last between an hour and an hour and a half. The doctor will come to see you to explain what they did, and at the same time, Jake will be moved to the recovery room, where we watch him very carefully as the anesthetic wears off. We will make sure he is not feeling pain, and as soon as he is awake, we will come for you. He will be moved to the ICU, and one of you at a time can be with him there.”

“You are being so helpful. Thank you.” Mona sniffed. Someone being kind made her even more weepy.

“I'm taking them to the cafeteria for breakfast, but we'll be back in an hour.” Oliver stood. “Thank you.”

“If you need anything or you have questions, please ask.”

The three of them followed the signs to the cafeteria. “Have you even had any coffee yet?”

“I don't know how we got along without it, but…” Mona filled three cups at the coffee machine right by the door and set them on a nearby table. Their orders arrived swiftly, but once they sat down, a wave of exhaustion nearly knocked Mona off her chair.

Ken reached for her hand. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.” Hands shaking, she added cream and sugar to her coffee, making Ken's eyebrows arch. “Should help faster this way.” She kept an eye on the clock as they ate. Ken and Oliver discussed the idea of forming a support group for parenting grandparents to be opened to the community as a service of the congregation. To think there was even a term for what they were going through. She left half of her scrambled eggs and toast but had another cup of coffee, black like usual this time.

Back up in the waiting room, Mona's phone began to sing “The Swan of Tuonela.” “Marit.” She caught their daughter up to the minute, said not to come right now, and yes, she would call as soon as they met with the doctor. Tapping the red button, she slid the phone back in the outside pocket of her purse. “She's calling the others, said Mellie is frantic.”

“Why didn't you talk with Mellie?”

“She was outside; they are all riding bikes. She'll call when she gets in.” The clock moved in slow motion or had stopped moving altogether. An hour passed. She could play a game on her iPhone, but hadn't thought to put her iPad in.
Who would?

Inching closer to another half hour. Had something gone wrong? No, the nurse said it could be longer than an hour. She reached for Ken's hand.

A man in green scrubs with a mask dangling around his neck came through the door. It was not Dr. Washington. “Sorenson?” They all stood. “Jake did well through the surgery. We removed the intussusception and stitched him back together. He won't be eating for a day or two, but he's on a drip now and we'll probably start liquids in the morning. See how his body accepts that, then soft food, and if the bowel is working properly, he can go home in three, maybe four days.”

“Thank you, what a relief. Can we stay here with him?” Mona squeezed Ken's hand, the dread lifting like fog when the sun comes out.

“One at a time in the ICU, but we'll most likely move him to a room tomorrow. I know you don't live nearby.”

“It was a fast hour this morning.”

“I'm sure it was. One of the hotels near here offers special rates for families with someone in the hospital. If you have no further questions?” He looked at each of them.

Ken asked, “Can his sister visit? She's ten.”

“Not today, and he'll feel pretty rocky tomorrow, but after that, he might enjoy entertainment. Ask your nurse. She'll fill you in about life in our hospital.”

“Thank you.”

“So now we wait again?” Mona felt so weary.

“But at least we know he's through the roughest part.” Ken sank down in a chair and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Do you realize this is a first for us? We've never had a child operated on or ill in a hospital. We forget how blessed we've been.”

“Now, the clinic or the urgent care, that's another matter.” Mona sat down, too.

Oliver checked his watch. “I'm sorry, but I need to hit the road. Call me immediately if there is a change for the worse.”

“Of course, what a comfort you have been.” Mona stood and hugged him. “We'll keep in touch. Any words of advice, feel free.”

“Hmm, I'll keep that in mind. My kids think I am far too free with advice, so this feels real good.” He hugged them both and headed for the elevator.

When they saw Jake an hour later, he blinked at them, tried to smile, and drifted off again.

“His vitals all look great. We'll come for you when he is in a bed.”

“How long might that be?” Ken asked the nurse.

“Maybe another hour or so. We do have an available bed in ICU, but barring complications, he'll be on the pediatric floor in the morning.”

Mona leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Jakey boy,” she whispered. Was that a nod she saw?

“I'm going down to buy him a balloon or two in the gift store,” Ken announced. “We can tie them to the foot of his bed. You want anything?”

“A candy bar sounds good.”

“Baby Ruth?” His smile looked tired, but his eyes broadcasted relief. “I'll get myself one, too.”

She watched him walk away. His step was jauntier again, too. She picked up a
Better Homes and Gardens
magazine. She never took time to read many magazines, so this was a treat. Her phone sang Marit's song.

“Grammy, is Jakey okay? I mean…”

“Yes, he won't be feeling too good for a while, but the surgery is over and he's waking up again. The doctor was very positive.”

“Aunty Marit told me what was happening. How come he got sick like that?”

“Sometimes things like this just happen. We really don't know why, but we can sure be happy the doctor could fix it.”

“When can I come see him?”

“Maybe tomorrow, for sure the day after.”

“We could play games on your iPad. Can he walk around?”

“Oh yes, they'll have him up and moving probably by this evening. There will be a TV in his room tomorrow. You all keep praying for him, but don't be afraid. He's going to be just fine.”

“You're sure? Not telling me something because I'm only ten?”

“Yes, I'm sure. If something else happens, I promise to tell you right away.”

“I sure wish Daddy was here. And we can't even let him know Jakey is in the hospital.” Tears clouded her voice.

“Me, too, honey; me, too.”

“Tell them Jake likes green Jell-O and Popsicles best.”

“I will. Popsicles will probably be the first thing he can eat. Good thinking.”

She sounded plaintive. “Can we still go to Chicago?”

“No, I'm afraid not. He won't be well enough for a while yet.”

Silence. Then, “I miss you, Grammy. Will I have to stay here with Brit and the boys?”

“Yes, for now.”

“Will you stay there all the time?”

“We'll see. I love you, Mellie, and I am so proud of you. I can't say how much.” Mona sniffed and blinked. “Marit will bring you home to get what you need. Grampy will probably come home this afternoon to feed the animals and pack me some clothes. He'll call you.”

Sniff.
“'Kay, I guess. I didn't think I'd miss Jakey—he's so naughty—but I do. Hug him for me, huh?”

“I will. Bye.” She clicked off her phone and dug out a tissue. She should have brought a box. So many things to decide. Her phone began to play “Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho.” Business call.

Ah, Carole Bergstrund from the preschool project. What a time for her to call. “Hello.”

“I apologize for taking so long. We had to move the dates back a month for the opening, certification issues. Will that work for you?”

Will that work for me? Such a simple question.
The instant war between her head and heart surprised and appalled Mona. She was getting the assignment of a lifetime, the very job to put her fledgling company on the map…and yet…Jakey, Mellie and Starbright, school, all the hassles that pop up out of nowhere. So many threads becoming all tangled.
Yes, but your dream…,
her head cried.

Yes, but there is only so much time and energy…

But I've been working so hard to make the career happen…

Mellie and Jakey need you. End of war.

Mona licked her lips and took a deep breath. She nodded to Ken, who had just walked in with two bobbing balloons. “Mrs. Bergstrund, there are problems, personal problems…Our grandson just came out of surgery, for one, and there—”

“Oh, dear. I hope it isn't, you know, serious.”

“Serious enough. And there are other issues. The bottom line is…” Mona straightened her back and, watching Ken, said, “I am sorry, but I have decided I cannot handle your promotion at this time or a month from now. There is just too much going on, too many important issues, and…”