“Yes, but she had another stroke. Her heart stopped, and we had to resuscitate her. We were able to break up the clot with a clot-busting drug and got to it quickly, which is a good thing. The longer the blockage is present from the clot, the more susceptible the brain and other body parts are to damage. It’s fortunate that she was already here in the hospital. It would have only been a matter of time before she had another stroke if we had not placed in the pacemaker. Her atrial fibrillation causes clots to form, and all it takes is one to get lodged in an artery. The procedure was successful, but I also put her on a strong medication to slow down her heart rate. The medication will work in conjunction with the pacemaker, which will stop her heart rate from going below sixty beats perminute.”
“Is she okay?” I manage to chokeout.
“It's hard to tell right now since she was just taken to the recovery room. So far everything looks good, but we'll do more testing once she's fullyconscious.”
“Wait—” My mind replays something he said a few minutes ago. “Did my grandmother die for a minute?” My face hurts from the tension around my eyes and jaw, and even though I know she’s alive, it doesn't ease my otherconcerns.
“Her heart stopped for a minute, but she wasn’t dead in terms of a medical diagnosis. We had to get her heart pumping again, and it was touch and go for a few minutes,” Jackson says, squeezing his hand a little tighter around mine. “Did you call yourfamily?”
“I did.” I’m trying my best to hold back my tears because he isn’t offering me the hope I need, and I assume it's because he doesn't want to say something that may not betrue.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, gently, dipping his head down to catch my gaze. “You’re very pale, and I’m worried aboutyou.”
I nod my head because I don't think I can lie and sayyes.
The door to the waiting room flies open again, and Jackson slips his hand away from mine, reminding me that doctors don't typically comfort family members as much as he’s been comforting me. Mom rushes inside, her hands waving around with panic. “What's going on?” she asks,breathlessly.
“Your mother is in recovery right now,” Jackson begins. He retells her the same information he just offered me, and rather than listen to it twice, I focus on Mom's face—the pain and heartache evident by the tears welling in hereyes.
“So, we don't know anything yet?” Momasks.
“She’s alive and hanging in there,” Jackson remindsher.
Mom clutches her fist against her chest and takes a seat as her face distorts into a deeper level of distress. “How long before she’ll beawake?”
“Shouldn't be long,” Jacksonsays.
“Emma, did Grams sign the health care proxy papers and HIPAA release form?” Mom asksme.
“Proxy papers?” Iquestion.
“Well, she must not have been able to sign the surgery consent forms if this happened so quickly,” shecontinues.
“Actually, she signed off on them last night,” Jackson tells Mom while carefully avoiding eye contact with me. I now know that Jackson was aware of Grams’s bribe about the surgery, seeing as she already agreed to it. It was a setup to get me to go out with Jackson tonight and he was in onit.
“I'm going to go check on Amelia now,” Jackson says while giving Mom a quick shoulder squeeze. “I'll be backshortly.”
As the door closes behind Jackson, Mom swings around in her seat to face me. “Were you here when it happened?” sheasks.
“No, I was getting some fresh air and answering some workemails.”
Mom wraps her arm around my shoulders and rests her head against mine. “I feel like there’s never enough time to do and say the things we should, but Grams has lived an extraordinary life, more so than a lot of people her age,” I tell Mom. I don’t know if my words help, but now that I’ve seen a glimpse of what Grams has already survived through, this blip on her timeline is nothing incomparison.
“I know,” she whispers, then glances down at the diary I forgot I had out. “What's that on yourlap?”
“It's nothing. I was just reading something a friend gave to me.” I place the diary into my bag and pull the flapstogether.
“Looks pretty old,” shesays.
“Yeah, I'm designing a book cover for it,” Ilie.
“Oh, that’s nice, honey.” She’s completely unfocused on what I’m saying while she stares through the wall in front of us. We are all so close in our family that the thought of one of us not being here is incomprehensible, especially Grams. She is the backbone of ourfamily.
Mom and I sit in silence until Annie arrives, which stirs Mom back up. Her version of the story isn’t quite as tight and to the point like Jackson's version, which causes Annie a lot of stress. She wants answers and isn’t getting enough information for herliking.
“If we're going to be seeing her soon, we should probably pull ourselves together so she doesn't see how worried we look. It won't help her,” I tell them, knowing I must not look muchbetter.
“She's right,” Mom says, pulling a wad of tissues out of her purse and handing one to Annie. Their makeup is streaked down their cheeks, and they both have bloodshot eyes. My heart is breaking for them. After all, this is their mom. As close as I am to Grams, I know there is nothing stronger in the world than the bond between a mother anddaughter.
