As much as I liked the idea of updating on the same day everytime, since I already made you wait like a month I didn't want to make you wait another two days. So. My completely legitimate explanation for the excessive lack of updates: Since the last chapter, I've taken and passed my EMT practicals (WOO!), and have moved into my dorm and become a full-time undecided (bio/chem) science major (stuck in a Calculus 2 class, which I absolutely detest(not to mention how much I suck at Calculus)). On top of all of my college studying, I'm studying to take the National Registry Exam so that I can finally complete my EMT certification.
Anywayyyy. Enjoy!
It was two weeks before Grace was ready to be discharged. Another panic attack had caused her to tear the outer stitches in her abdomen again and a brief fever had knocked her out for almost two days, but her latest set of scans showed the internal bruising to be almost completely cleared up and, after proving that she could walk without assistance, albeit at the pace of a slug, Dr. Sloan had cleared her to go home.
He warned me to watch out for infection for the next few weeks, looking out for fever and malaise, among a slew of other heinous sounding symptoms.
He gave me a bottle of medicine to help her sleep through the night and reminded me to give her her antibiotics at the same time twice a day for two more weeks, with food, and to not give her anything with aspirin for at least a month, and gave me his personal cell number before handing me a stack of paperwork to sign and then, finally, Grace got to leave the hospital.
I helped Grace into one of her new pairs of jeans and a light blue sweater before zipping her up in her fluffy winter coat and fuzzy boots (with one of the pairs of socks I'd gone back out for, along with a few other things, thank you very much). Doctor Sloan lifted her from the bed and into the awaiting wheelchair and, just before he wheeled her out of the room, I stuck a fuzzy grey hat that matched her boots on her head. She blinked up at me, fighting tears as she tugged it down to cover her scalp.
She had taken it upon herself one night to make it to the bathroom. Nobody knows how long she was frozen in front of the mirror for before the night nurse found her, tears streaming down her face, bottom lip clamped down to keep quiet, hands clutching at her shredded locks. Since then she'd kept the first hat I'd brought on 24-7, taking it off for the first time this morning so that Dr. Sloan could do a complete checkup before releasing her.
Grace clutched her elephant, penguin, and book as we started our trek down to the front entrance, her vase of roses and my copies of the discharge papers in my hands. I hailed a cab once we made it to the sidewalk, sliding in first and pulling Grace into my lap once Dr. Sloan had lifted her from the chair and set her in the car.
"Don't be afraid to call me anytime if anything comes up or if you have any questions," he said, leaning into the back.
"I won't," I assured him. "Thank you so much."
"It's what I'm here for," he shrugged it off. "Here," he added, pulling something from his pocket. "I meant to discuss this with you earlier but didn't get the chance when I got called away. This is an appointment card for Grace's first follow-up. If you can't make it, just call to reschedule, but we don't want to go more than two weeks before seeing her again."
"Of course we'll be there."
"Just make note that I want to see her at my office as opposed to here. I think it may be less stressful."
"Which is exactly what we need. Thank you again, for being there yourself and not sending everyone else in to do your dirty work."
"Not how I roll, Miss Swan. I'll see you in a couple of weeks. See you, Grace," he said, turning his attention. "Take it easy, 'kay?"
She nodded, both arms around my neck, head against my shoulder, looking in his general direction but avoiding looking him right in the eye. He nodded back, shutting the door and patting the roof just like in the movies as the cab pulled away from the curb.
I absolutely hated cabs – there was no reason to pay to sit in traffic when my legs could get me there in half the time - but I lived a good few blocks from the hospital and it was far too cold to walk with Grace when it wasn't an emergency.
As I suspected, we were stuck in traffic for almost an hour. Grace had fallen asleep shortly after we left the hospital, so I stuck her stuffed animals and discharge paperwork in my backpack, hauling her into my arms. She immediately turned her face into my neck, wrapping her arms around me and holding herself secure by her wrist.
I made my way into the building as quickly as possible, reassuring her that it was all right as I felt her little body begin to shake. "We're inside now, Grace," I whispered, stroking her back. "Everything's okay."
I hurried to the elevator, pressing the button as the door to the stairwell was thrown open. Grace cringed, pressing her face into me so hard I could feel her teeth, as Esme ran out in a panic, nearly bowling me over in the process.
"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry," she croaked, sidestepping me and moving to run off.
"Esme, what's wrong?" I asked, concerned.
"I have to go home," she choked, checking her watch. "My… She … I…. I have to go."
"This isn't home?" I asked, surprised.
"No. Oh, God no. No, I have to go home," she repeated, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I have to get there."
"You should go, then."
"Yeah, yes. Yes, I need to go," she muttered, moving to run off again. "Oh! Dear, would you mind terribly doing me a favor? This is my card," she sniffed, rummaging through her purse. "And this is my mailbox key, number 916. I'm expecting a very important delivery in the next week or two. Would you mind forwarding it to the address on the card? I'll be happy to reimburse you."
"Yeah, sure. Don't worry about it," I said, removing my hand from Grace's back and taking the key and card. "I hope that you figure out whatever is going on," I said.
Her lip trembled and the tears fell faster. "Me too," she agreed. "I'm glad to see everything worked out for you," she said, nodding to Grace. "Keep her close," she sighed, giving me a tight, watery smile and then turning, finally disappearing.
I hugged Grace tightly, shushing the tiny sobs that Esme had invoked, unsure what to make of the conversation. The elevator dinged after a few more moments and, after letting off the creepy old man that lived on the sixth floor, took us to three. I juggled Grace and the items Esme had given me, trying to get my own key in the door without dropping anything. Once successful, I let my bag fall from my back, kicking the door shut and falling into the couch. "We're home now, Grace," I whispered, rubbing her back and pulling her away from me. "Just you and me, okay? Nobody else."
She lifted her head a little, taking in the surrounding emptiness before allowing me to let go of her. Pulling herself up gingerly, she clutched the back of the couch, further scrutinizing the room. Her eyes zeroed in on the hallway. "Do you want to look around?" I offered.
She nodded quietly, keeping her eyes on the hallway as I lifted her up. "It's just a hallway," I said, walking through it slowly. "Nobody there." I brought her into my bedroom, closet, and bathroom before taking her back to the living room. She gasped, pointing at the closet in the hall. "Just a closet," I assured her, opening it. "A couple of blankets and some old clothes… some shoes. Nobody there either."
I shut the door and moved into the kitchen, opening the pantry and showing her that before she had to ask. "See? Nothing here. Nobody's in the apartment but you and me."
She nodded again, stretching her hand out towards the box of Pop-Tarts. "Hungry?" I opened the box and then a package, handing her one of the pastries. While she munched on it I brought her back to the couch, setting her down on the first cushion.
She curled into the corner and shivered, eyes wandering around the room again as she chewed her food. I turned the TV on, finding the Disney channel, before standing to go find her a blanket. She cried out as I moved, sitting back up and reaching for me.
"It's okay," I reassured her once more. "Just you and me, remember? I'm gonna go get you a blanket, right in that closet." I moved slowly, letting her track me as I opened the hall closet and pulled down a fluffy spare comforter.
I brought the comforter back and draped it over her before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. She inched her way towards me for the next hour, until she was curled into my side. We spent the rest of the day like that, and when she fell asleep I moved her into my bed and settled back onto the couch for the night.
Rosalie showed up on the second day just before dinnertime, pizza and a stack of newly purchased kid-friendly movies in hand. Grace chose Tangled for the night's entertainment, squeezing in between me and the arm of the couch so that she didn't have to sit next to Rosalie.
On the third night I woke up to screaming, finding Grace wandering disorientedly into the furniture in my room. "Oh, Grace," I sighed. "Calm down, Sweetheart. It's okay, I'm right here." I scooped her back up and brought her back to bed, laying down next to her as she cried. "Are you hurting?" I asked, rubbing her back. She buried her face in the pillow, shaking her head. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Nope.
She slowly calmed down and, once I was sure she was sleeping, I went back to the living room. On the fourth, fifth, and sixth nights she made it a little farther before losing her way, crying out in protest until I brought her back to bed. On the seventh night I woke up to her poking my face, silent tears streaming down her face as she rubbed her forehead.
I jumped up, but she didn't feel warm. She refused to settle back down so I gave her sip of the medicine that was supposed to help her sleep and we laid on the couch and watched Scooby Doo reruns. She seemed back to normal the next morning, so we spent the day coloring and watching cartoons. Rosalie came over for dinner again and, after Grace fell asleep, we worked some more on our project. She told me about seeing Peter again and trying to find a job, for which luck has not been on her side.
We wrapped up the assignment shortly after two and I crashed before she was even out the door. I knew something was wrong as soon as the morning sunlight pierced my eyelids. I bolted up, the apartment deadly silent as I ran towards my bedroom. The door was still cracked, so she hadn't come out in the middle of the night. I threw it into the wall in my haste to check on her and she never even flinched.
Her face was bright red, her pajamas soaked through with sweat. She moaned as I removed the sheet that was covering her, whining as I stripped her of her soaked pjs and quickly dressed her in dry ones. I got her stupid marshmallow coat on in record time and we were out the door. Forgoing traffic to get to the hospital quickly, I darted in and out of pedestrians, juggling Grace in my arms and my cell against my ear.
"Sloane," he answered, sounded distracted.
"Dr. Sloane, it's Bella Swan. Grace's got a fever and she won't wake up."
"Get here now."
"I'm eight blocks away," I said as he ordered someone else to clear our CT and to set up a room.
"We'll meet you at the Emergency Room entrance."
xXoOoXx
"Her scans are clear and her incision site is fine. Whatever is attacking her is working from the inside. I don't think it's pneumonia – her lungs are clear and she's breathing fine. We've already sent her blood to the lab and we're setting her up with an IV antibiotic drip.
"She hasn't woken up yet, but she is responsive to painful and verbal stimuli and her pupillary response is good. What happened?"
"I don't know. She was fine yesterday…. Two nights ago she came to me in the middle of the night a little teary. She was rubbing her head but she wasn't warm so I gave her some of the sleeping medicine and brought her back to bed after it kicked in. She was fine yesterday and this is how I found her this morning. I don't understand… I've been giving her the antibiotics… every day at the same time… she's been good," I cried.
"The new antibiotics are just a precaution. Whatever she's got is probably a virus – in all actuality it probably has nothing to do with the surgery and previous hospital stay and everything to do with cruddy timing. But because of the surgery and everything else going on, her immune system is compromised. That's why we're getting her set up again. But since we don't know what it is, and we can't afford to have her down again once it clears up, why don't you go home and clean? Everything. Strip the sheets and the curtains and wash them. Disinfect the counters and the floors, shampoo the carpets, bleach the tub and the shower and the toilet. Just clean everything."
"But what about-"
"She's out for the count, Bella. She will be for a while, by the looks of it. We're going to have somebody at her side at all times, but she won't even know you're gone. So go home. Clean your house. Do your homework. I'll call you if anything changes and, if I don't, come back tonight. Bring her her penguin and her elephant, something to distract her from the fact that she's trapped here again."
"I can do that," I agreed, nodding rather excessively. "Please fix her, Dr. Sloan," I begged, tearing up. "Please make her better."
"Hey now," he soothed. "I practically brought her back from the dead. We're going to get through this. She'll be back home in no time."