“And I said I was your next of kin.” I shrugged. “Hope that’s okay. It’s only a small lie.”
He smiled. “If being next of kin means you’re the most important woman in my life, then yeah, you’re my next of kin. No lie.”
Despite the awfulness of the situation, my heart had a second of happiness. I wanted to be important to him. I wanted to be the most important woman in his life. He had kids, kids he loved, and I knew they’d always hold a huge part of his heart, but if I had some of it, too…that made me very happy.
His eyes closed, and he sighed.
“Sleep,” I said quietly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I sat with him all day, speaking quietly to the nurses and two doctors who visited. He had a few sips of water, and activated his pain button several times, but mainly he slept peacefully.
Late afternoon, a policeman in uniform turned up. He wanted to take a statement, but the nurse refused him entry. She said Mitch needed rest, and besides, that he was too spaced out on morphine to say anything accurate.
He disappeared.
Eventually, the night shift nurses came on duty and urged me to go home and get some rest. I could come back in the morning, they said, with some lounge clothes for him. As soon as possible they’d get him up and moving to avoid bed rest complications.
Reluctantly, I left and then called at an all-night superstore to buy him a pair of dark-gray sweats and a black t-shirt. I also picked him up a pack of boxer shorts and a few toiletries. I resisted getting him any food. I figured having had surgery on his abdomen he wouldn’t be eating for a few days. Idid grab myself a ready meal, though, knowing I should eat if I wanted to be able to function the next day.
If I wanted to spend the day with Mitch.
I slept well and was back at the hospital bright and early. The ward was all go with breakfasts being served, dressing trolleys scattered around, and the usual alarms and buzzers going off.
Mitch’s room felt like a sanctuary when I stepped in.
“Hey,” he said with a tired smile.
“Hey you.” I kissed his brow. “Did you sleep?”
“Yes, don’t think I moved. Good stuff, this.” He held up the pain button.
I laughed softly. “Don’t get to used to it.”
“Can I have some water?”
“Sure.” I held it for him. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“I feel like…sticky, you know.” He nodded at a sink in the corner. It had a tall chrome tap and a paper towel dispenser next to it. “Can you…?”
“Help you wash, of course.” I held up the bag of clothes and toiletries. “I got you supplies.”
“You’re an angel.”
“Sometimes.” I twitched my eyebrows at him.
He chuckled and then groaned and clutched his side. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.” I quickly soaped up a warm flannel and then carefully washed his face and hands then dried them. I gently rubbed it over his chest, and around his neck and underarms.
“Want this?” I held up deodorant.
“You’re so thoughtful.”
“I try.”
Just that bit of activity exhausted him, and he slept for another two hours before waking up just as the doctor came in.
“Good morning,” he said to us both. “How are you feeling, Mitch?”
