Page 95 of A Really Bad Idea

“Because you’re a nosy hen. Sometimes, it’s nice to keep things from you,” I tease as Natasha and I lay her back down and make her as comfortable as possible.

She seems to find ease from lying on her side, says it’s easier to breathe, so I prop a pillow behind her back.

Natasha is finishing up her assessment of Mom as Thomas walks in with Christian right behind him.

“Two Dr. Gallaghers in one evening!” Mom beams with a haggard breath. “Thomas and I have been friends for thirty years,” Mom tells Natasha. “That’s how Christian and Meadow met. They were just two cuties with crushes on each other. They always seemed to never be single at the same time. Then, he went to college, and then she went to college. Then, he moved to San Francisco, and she married that awful hockey player—”

“I don’t think Natasha needs to hear the full history,” I state.

“I find it fascinating,” Natasha says with a forced smile. “Good evening, Dr. Gallagher,” she says to the senior Gallagher and then gives a pointed sneer to Christian. “Dr. Gallagher.”

If her tone were a hand, it would have just slapped him in the face.

Christian doesn’t take offense. He gives her a nod and then looks to Mom, as does his father with his hands folded in front of him, stoic.

“Thomas, I don’t feel better on this medicine you’re giving me,” Mom tells him before he says a word.

“I want to increase the Lasix from sixty micrograms to eighty. If we can get the fluid down, we can try for another cardioversion to get the arrhythmia in check.”

I chime in, “She can’t breathe. It labors with every word she says. I don’t think more edema will work.”

Christian’s mouth twists as he walks up to my mom and gives a listen to her lungs. Natasha assists him, getting my mom back up to a sitting position.

“When was the last time she had an X-ray?” he asks.

“Yesterday morning,” Natasha replies.

“She needs another,” he orders and turns to his father. “We’re gonna have to drain her lung.”

“Oh Lord have mercy.” Mom deflates into her bed.

I move close and rub her shoulders. As much as she’s tried to be nonchalant about this hospital stay, I know from the way she’s clenching her eyes that she’s positively frightened. We can all pretend she just needs meds and a simple procedure to make her feel better, but it’s all a ruse. Mom needs heart surgery to repair the leaky valve.

“Let’s see what the X-ray says first.” Thomas sounds adamant, but Christian doesn’t seem pleased.

“Can I have a minute with you in the hallway?” he says to his father.

The two men step outside as I continue to rub Mom’s back. Natasha steps out as well, and I try to be Mom’s strength as she cries into her pillow. When Dad returns, Mom updates him on what the doctors said.

I need to give my parents a minute to talk and get answers for myself, so I walk out to the hallway. I head toward the circular nurses’ station and see Thomas and Christian talking on the other side. I walk around it and stand in a doorway nearby, a few feet away.

“Enough is enough,” Christian scolds his father. “I’m taking over.”

“Let’s give it one more day. If I can get her back in rhythm, then she’ll have more time. I can shock her heart and get her stable.”

“The valve is deteriorating.”

“Only because she’s in atrial fibrillation,” Thomas explains. “Let me do another cardioversion—”

“I’m replacing the valve.”

“She won’t survive open heart surgery. She’s already been opened up in the past. The scar tissue creates an obstacle, and her heart won’t last on the bypass machine.”

“She has severe mitral valve regurgitation. Her blood is flowing in the wrong direction, and it’s leaving a large hole in her heart.”

“Replace the valve, and she’ll run the risk of sepsis.”

With a hand on his face, Christian looks down like he’s weighing his options. “I’ll perform the transcatheter procedure—the TAVR I’ve been working on.”