Frankie felt as if someone had taken a wire brush to her scalp and rubbed it against her sensitive skin.
The memory of Charlie’s words still rattled around in her brain.“Ispoke to Nan. They’re at the Grizzly Springs Memorial Hospital. Your father was admitted for observation. They’re running tests now.”
Everything else after went in one ear and out the other.
“We’ll be there in five minutes.”
All she could do was nod and stare out the window. There were few lights on this stretch of roadway. The inky blackness gave her the impression of being in a black hole, a force so strong that even light couldn’t escape.
This is the second time I’ve failed Dad, and he was alone when he needed me most. The main reason I moved here was to be closer to him in case anything ever happened.
The turn indicator clicked on, and Charlie entered the hospital parking lot. After he parked and turned off the engine, they sat for a moment.
“Frankie, I know you may not feel like talking to me right now, but remember, no matter what, your father is receiving the best possible care. You won’t be left alone in all this. I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”
Frankie managed a weak bob of her head.
She leaned heavily on Charlie’s arm as he escorted her inside. They spotted Suzy, the only person in the waiting area, looking well put together in a green floral top and jeans. She flipped through a quilting magazine.
“Nan,” Charlie called out softly.
Suzy glanced up, closed the magazine, and stood. She removed her reading glasses and hugged them. “Charlie, Frankie. You made good time. I’ll let the receptionist know you’re here. Since I’m not family, unfortunately, they weren’t able to disclose any details of Rich’s condition to me.”
Frankie glanced around her. The walls were white. Three televisions were turned on, muted. Black-and-white captions flashed across the screens. A dozen or so brown-and-white chairs with abstract circular patterns were set in a horseshoe pattern.
Magazines were scattered across the empty seats. It smelled sterile. The two arrangements of fresh flowers on the nurses’ station desk offered the only pop of color in the otherwise neutral room.
Charlie kept her hand in his and drew circles over the top of it.
Soon, Suzy rejoined them.
“In your message, you said Dad was ill. How was he when you found him?” she sputtered.
Suzy looked her directly in the eye. “He was feverish and confused. His pupils were dilated, and I could tell he was in a lot of pain. Although I didn’t think it was anything life-threatening, I still thought it prudent to take him to urgent care just to err on the safe side.”
“Nan was a nurse for over thirty years. She’d know right away if it were something like a heart attack,” Charlie said, trying his best to comfort her.
Frankie’s body stiffened.
“Charlie, let’s leave any diagnosing to the medical professionals,” Suzy said carefully. She approached Frankie with slow steps and took hold of her other hand.
The automated doors leading to the exam rooms opened with a whoosh. A doctor in blue scrubs and a ruffled white lab coat exited, carrying a clipboard. He read out her name.
“Here!” she shouted.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Rudd. I’ve overseeing your father’s case since he was admitted.” He eyed Suzy and Charlie. “Would you care to chat somewhere more privately?”
“No, they’re extended family.”
He nodded and reviewed the chicken scratch on the clipboard. “Your father, in layman’s terms, is presenting with a case of shingles.”
Suzy winced.
Dr. Rudd continued. “Shingles is an illness caused by the same virus as chicken pox. It can manifest in anyone, at any age, although it’s more common in adults than children.”
“Shingles . . . is that serious?” Frankie asked. “I know chicken pox in adults can be complicated.”
“Yes, it can be. As a geriatric patient, Mr. Tomlinson is at greater risk of suffering complications from the illness.” Dr. Rudd hesitated. “I admitted him due to his fever and level of pain, but I’m confident it’s been caught early enough that he’ll make a full recovery. In any case, I’ve started him on some anti-viral medication. I’d like to keep him here for a few more days before releasing him to your care. The time for recovery ranges from two to six weeks.”
