“Please Gabby, don’t go,” he repeats, squeezing my hand so tight I can barely feel my fingers.
“I’m right here,” I whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You sai… you said you wouldn't give up on me, please. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me here. Please,” his voice sounds so small. His eyes are boring into mine as if I hold the last word for whether or not he gets to live.
Then his eyes roll back and he slumps onto his back as the medication takes effect, and he finally goes still, falling asleep.
The nurse squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll keep him calm. Don’t worry.”
I fight the urge to burst into tears.
A little later Dr. Bashert returns.
“We’re doing everything we can. Early signs are positive, but we’ll need to monitor him closely. He should be okay, but we’re not out of the woods yet.”
I nod, even though my legs feel hollow.
And as I stand there holding his limp hand, all I can think is:
Please, God. Don’t take him from me.
-??-
Chapter 3
The doctor comes back after what feels like an entire lifetime. I’m still sitting beside Lincoln’s bed, holding his hand, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Every beep of the monitor makes me flinch.
He walks in, glances at the chart, then looks at me.
“Mrs. Arnoldson?”
I don’t correct him. I don’t even blink. It's nice hearing someone call me Mrs again.
“Yes…?”
“We have the labs back,” he says. “So like I initially thought, your husband does have sepsis. But we’ve identified the source.”
My stomach drops like a stone. “What caused it?”
“It appears to have started as a urinary tract infection,” he explains. “It likely went untreated for too long, possibly because he didn’t notice symptoms, or he ignored them. The infection eventually entered his bloodstream, which is how it progressed into sepsis.”
My heart twists painfully.
Lincoln.
A UTI?
And he probably just powered through it until his body couldn’t take any more.
Why am I surprised?
The man who drinks too much coffee.
The man who forgets to pee, and told me he only pees once a day.
The man who works until his body is practically shutting down.
“Oh my God…” I whisper under my breath.
