‘What does that mean, exactly?’
‘Mr. Sawyer has suffered a mild stroke.’
‘Mild compared to what?’
‘Let’s just say, it could have been a lot worse.’
‘Is he…’ My mother swallowed. ‘Is he conscious?’
‘He’s sleeping, right now.’
‘But he hasbeenconscious, hasn’t he? What I’m saying is, he’s still…’
‘He is cognitively fine, yes. He was lucky you got him to the hospital as fast as you did. Early treatment means his chances of a full recovery are good. We’ll need to run more tests over the next few days, make sure there are no more clots. He’ll have some weakness, hopefully temporary, and he will need home help for a couple of months or so. But he should, in time, regain his full strength.’
My mother exhaled. ‘Thank you. Can we see him?’
‘Of course.’ The doctor turned and gestured to a nurse. ‘Becky will take you to him. Don’t expect too much from him tonight. The best thing for him right now is rest.’
We followed Becky through the doors and down a corridor to a room that had the number eight above the door and my father’s name written on a little whiteboard next to the entryway. The lights inside the room were dim. I hesitated in the doorway at the sight of him lying on the bed, his eyes closed. Beside him, a machine whirred steadily, numbers monitoring his vitals on the screen. My mother made a small choking sound when she saw him, then rallied, hurrying to the side of the bedand running her eyes from his head down to his toes and back again.
‘We’re here, darling,’ she said, placing a hand lightly on his forehead and brushing his hair gently off his face. It was a sweet gesture, but made me feel uncomfortable. From the way the others suddenly found interesting things to look at on the wall, I could tell they felt the same. Our mother was not normally one prone to declarations of affection out loud, even towards our father. As for physical displays, I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had hugged or kissed me. ‘Your family are here.’
I stared down at my normally big, strong father. In that hospital bed, he didn’t particularlylookbig or strong. He looked fragile, one side of his face clearly drooping. For the first time, I noticed the thinning hair, the skin that was too big for the bones. I hated it. Hated seeing him like this.
‘How did this happen?’ I asked. ‘I mean, did he fall, or something? Knock his head?’
‘No. We were just sitting around having a nightcap, getting ready to call it a night. One minute he was chatting away, perfectly fine,’ Anna said, wiping tears that had dripped down to her chin on the back of her hand. She sat down on a plastic chair next to our father, placing her hand on his. Mom sat in an armchair on the other side, doing the same. David stood next to Mom, his arms crossed over his chest. His face ashen. Sophie hovered next to David. Offering light, reassuring touches and murmured words of support. I felt suddenly acutely alone, quickly brushing the feeling off.
‘And then all of a sudden he just stopped making any sense,’ Anna continued.
‘To us, anyway,’ David added. ‘That was the scary part. He was trying to communicate with us. You could see it in his eyes. The confusion and the fear.Heknew what he was saying, but to us it was just… nonsense.’
‘I realized he was acting like my grandmother did, when she had her stroke,’ Sophie said.
‘And thank God you did,’ my mother said fervently. ‘I didn’t know what was happening. Or what to do. If you hadn’t called the ambulance when you did, God only knows how much damage the stroke could have caused to him. Or worse.’
A nurse walked into the room, wearing purple Crocs on her feet. She smiled at our worried faces, then busied herself checking Dad’s vitals.
‘Give her some room,’ Mom said tersely to Anna.
‘It’s OK,’ the nurse reassured Anna as she went to stand. ‘You sit. I can do what I need to do around you.’
We all watched her like hawks until she had finished writing on Dad’s chart.
‘Well?’ Mom prompted, when it looked like she was going to leave the room without saying anything.
‘He’s doing good. Model patient. The doctors will keep him in for a few days for some tests and observations, but my guess is you’ll have him home again within the week.’
Mom clutched a hand to her chest. ‘That’s excellent news. But what if it happens again?’
‘Obviously there is always that risk, but that’s what the tests we’ll run over the next few days are for. The doctors will try to find out what caused the clot and prevent it from happening again.’
‘I’m willing to pay for the best doctors in the state,’ Mom informed her. ‘The country, if needed. My husband needs the best care available.’
‘And he will get that. Don’t worry. We have very good doctors here. They will do their best for him, believe me.’
‘What about when he comes home?’ David asked. ‘What happens then? Will he need a live-in nurse?’
