Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“She’s probably going to be a little out of it. Not sure it’ll matter.”
Nick’s eyes narrow, never leaving my face. “We’ll wait there.”
“Okay, come on.” I slap a hand on his shoulder.
We find room three forty-five all the way down the hall on the left. I open the door, and Nick follows me in.
It’s an ordinary hospital room. The bed looks silver and sterile. Tubes tumble out of the wall like tentacles. A stand to hang IVs on sits beside the bed.
Nick pulls up the one chair in the corner of the room. I stand in front of the door, surveying my brother.
Grandma has to survive. Has to.
If she doesn’t, it’s not just me I’m worried about. I’ll be responsible for keeping Nick’s shit together, too.
“She’s so tough. I never thought I’d see her like this.” His voice is low, quiet, pained. Not like my normally boisterous brother who pretends he’s never met a care in the world.
“She’s seventy-two. We’ve been lucky so far.” My chest aches saying it, but it’s reality.
Someone taps on the door.
“She must be here.” I open the door.
A tall doctor with wire-framed glasses stands on the other side. “Mr. Brandt? I’m Doctor Than.”
I nod.
Nick stands.
“Ward Brandt has POA,” the doctor says.
Shit. First I’m hearing about it, but it makes sense.
“P-O-A?” Nick asks.
“Power of Attorney. It’s when—”
“I know what Power of Attorney means. I’m not that clueless,” Nick snaps, his face tightening.
I don’t say anything.
“Is she all right?” I ask the doctor.
“Why would she make you her POA?” Nick asks jealously.
I sigh.
Does he even have to ask?
“Who knows. Can I talk to the doctor first, and then we can discuss it like civilized men?”
“Yes, we will talk to the doctor. Then you and I can talk about why Grandma would make only you her POA.”
“Sorry.” I look at the doctor with a rough smile.
He laughs. “No problem, I have three daughters...”
Ouch. Nick and I don’t really fight.
He just hates being the youngest with the most baggage. Truth be told, sometimes I wish I didn’t have all the responsibility crushed on my shoulders.
“Is she okay, doctor?” I ask again.
Than nods. “Yes. Mrs. Brandt had a minor surgery tonight. From what I can tell, she’s had a genetic heart defect—probably since birth. She’s been quite fortunate she’s never had an issue before. But she’s going to be staying in the hospital until we have her well on the way to recovery. She’ll be here tonight for observation, and likely at least a few more.”
“Will you be her attending physician?” I ask.
He nods. “I make rounds in the morning and evening, so if you have questions you’ll need to be here then. You can always leave a message through a nurse or email me, and I’ll get back to you.”
I nod firmly, my head feeling too light, the outer world reeling.
This is fucked.
How did we go from the high of winning over Winthrope earlier today to wondering if Grandma will even pull through to hear the news?
Dr. Than’s eyes trace from my tense face to Nick’s. “You two can relax. She’s in great shape for a seventy-two-year-old woman. I wish my overall health was as good.”
“She walks two miles a day,” Nick says proudly, puffing up his chest.
“Well, she’ll need to slow down she’s home,” Dr. Than says.
I hesitate, clearing my throat.
“How long do you think she’ll be in here?” I ask.
Than shakes his head. “I can’t say before we’ve assessed her. However, I can tell you that even once she gets home, she’s going to need plenty of relaxation with no stress. Some activities will be okay and could even boost her cardiovascular system, but nothing strenuous like running.”
“She’s going to be off work for a while,” Nick says slowly, the realization dawning on him.
“Indeed, she will,” the doctor says. “A substantial leave of absence would do her well. She’s still in recovery, but they should be bringing her in soon. It’s a pleasure meeting you both.”
He walks away, and I shut the door again.
“Fuck,” Nick says, doubling over and grabbing his head. “This is the worst time for this.”
“You mean there would be a good time for Grandma to have ‘minor’”—I put finger quotes around the word minor, because the heart seems fairly fucking vital—“heart problems?” I finish.
A slow, sad smile crawls across Nick’s face. “Ah, Wardhole, it hasn’t hit you yet, huh?”
“What?”
“What’s the big news today?” he asks, his face looking pale.
“Grandma had a heart attack,” I say. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head. “See? It’s worse when you actually say it. I mean, the doctor didn’t say heart attack, but—”
“No, dumbass, people always have heart surgery for fun, right?” I snap.
He glares at me.
“I know you don’t want it to be true, but it is what it is,” I say with a sigh.
“Whatever. It still hasn’t hit you.”