Sunday morning could not have arrived soon enough for the Cullen family. Esme was outside the ICU by 8am, anxiously waiting to go inside and see her daughter. Carlisle was already inside, being updated on her progress by the ICU staff. Thanks to Blythe, the infection that was residing in Amelia's lungs was improving, her kidneys were handling the medication she was on better than they had been and her heart was beating stronger than it had been for a good couple of months.
Carlisle, Dr Westsmythe and Dr Anderson had agreed to keep Amelia for one last night to monitor her and if she held out, they would allow her to be discharged. Esme and Carlisle had refrained from telling her, in case it didn't materialise and she was disappointed. Finally, Esme was allowed in.
"Amelia can go home today," said Carlisle, a smile breaking out on his features as he opened up the door to the ICU and allowed her inside.
"Oh really? That is marvellous news!" exclaimed Esme in delight. ICU protocol wouldn't allow her inside but that didn't mean that she couldn't hear every word while she anxiously paced the corridor, waiting to be let in. She made a beeline for Amelia's room. The sickly teenager was asleep, a tray of breakfast on her bedside table, still uneaten.
"She woke up at about 5am, and had her physio, but she has since fallen asleep. She has not yet eaten breakfast, Mrs Cullen," said Ellie, coming into the room and standing next to Esme, "She was so tired after physio, I really didn't have the heart to wake her up for breakfast."
"I'm quite happy to leave her to sleep as well. Is this sort of behaviour normal?"
"Sleeping a lot? Yes. Her body is going to tire a lot more easily now after this setback. She should perk up a bit once the worst of the pneumonia is over, but this is basically what her days will be like, lots of sleeping."
"Thank you for everything, Ellie. I do greatly appreciate how much you have cared for Amelia this week."
"She's a right darling, Mrs Cullen. It just makes me so sad that she's sick like this. Poor mite."
"It's horrible knowing that every setback she had limits our time further. We have nearly lost her so many times since January and it is quite scary."
"I wish I knew what to tell you, Mrs Cullen. She gave us quite a scare on Friday with her episode and then that horrid seizure. It is so fortunate that Dr Cullen picked up that it was a heart problem and not a misfire in her brain and got her the proper medicine. Anyway, shall we get Amelia ready for going home?"
"I think so. I'd prefer to give her some breakfast at home if that is alright with you."
"Fine with me, although let's also ask Amelia. I'd hate for her to become hypoglycaemic. Her blood sugar levels have been all over the show this week. I need to get Amelia's IVs ready for the week ahead. I shall be back in a few minutes." Ellie left the room. Esme could hear her picking up the phone and calling the pharmacy to check on the IV meds that Amelia would need to continue with for the week ahead. Esme took some fresh clothes out of the overnight bag that Alice had handed her that morning and put them on top of the bed, before waking the teenager.
"Amelia, sweetheart. Wakey wakey," she spoke softly, gently shaking the sleeping teenager.
"Mm?" groaned Amelia, eyes still shut.
"It's time to go home, Mia-bug," she stated, using the nickname that the Rochester staff had bestowed upon her. She wasn't really one to use nicknames, she thought her daughter's name was quite lovely and did not require abbreviating, no matter what her daughter tried to convince her.
"Home?" she whispered, eyes snapping open. She blinked a few times and her mother's face came into focus.
"Home," confirmed Esme, smiling widely. Amelia sat up and gently swung her legs over the side.
"Now?" she queried hopefully, sliding down the side of the bed until her feet touched the floor.
"You need to get dressed first. Oh, and sweetheart, you're showing the world your underwear."
"It's called ICU for a reason," grumbled Amelia, grabbing the back of her gown and pulling it forward so no one else saw her underwear.
"I see you. Nice undies by the way," chuckled Carlisle, coming into the room and winking at Esme. Amelia squeaked in horror. Esme rolled her eyes and glared at Carlisle. Carlisle moved so that he could detach the IV line from Amelia's arm so that she could undress unhindered by the tube that snaked out of her right hand.
"If the ICU invested in a little phenomenon otherwise known as curtaining, it would preserve my dignity and prevent untold damage to the poor nurses and doctors who have to bear witness to such atrocities. Actually no, a decent fitting gown would be great. One size fits all is a myth," retorted Amelia, "where the heck am I going to change? The ICU has seen enough of my nakedness, thank you very much."
"Simple. Dad will guard the door."
"Excellent idea. No peeking, Dad!"
"Why? Does your bra match your underwear? Never mind, Alice packed your clothes. In my experience, everything matches," muttered Carlisle, turning his back firmly and guarding the door.
"Da-ad!" squealed Amelia. Esme started laughing.
"What? It's the truth!" he protested good-naturedly. Esme nodded in confirmation.
"Ew! Way too much information, parents!"
Carlisle and Esme packed out laughing. Amelia joined in after muttering under her breath about how they were polluting her mind. Secretly, she enjoyed the easy banter between her parents. Even after 80 odd years of marriage, they were still as in love as they were the first time they ever laid eyes on each other. Amelia hoped that one day she might have that same kind of love. Esme helped her finish getting dressed. Alice had packed some jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and a hoodie for Amelia, along with a coat, scarf, beanie and Amelia's favourite pair of Levi's. She pulled out a belt and Amelia gratefully put it in. At least her pants wouldn't fall off.
"It's safe, Dad," Amelia called, pulling a hoodie over her head.
"Oh thank goodness. I thought you were never going to be dressed! You took forever!" Carlisle groaned dramatically and sagged against the door. Amelia tossed her hospital gown in his direction, laughing when it landed on his head and covered his face. Carlisle slowly pulled it off his face and glared at his daughter, before taking a step towards her, wiggling his fingers. Amelia realised that he was going to start tickling her. She took a step backwards and hid behind Esme.
"Mom! Save me!"
"Esme, come on, let me at her," whined Carlisle, pretending to try get past Esme to launch a tickle attack on his fragile human daughter.
"Not happening, Carlisle," said Esme, protectively shielding Amelia, who was nearly doubled over from laughter. Esme was smiling happily. Amelia was laughing again, a good sign in her books.
"You're no fun!" he protested, but stopped the minute he heard Amelia start coughing.
"Good thing I didn't eat breakfast else I would have lost that," stated Amelia brightly once she had recovered from her coughing fit, "Can I go home now?"
"I need to make a quick detour past the pharmacy on our way out, but yes, let's get you out of here," stated Carlisle as he switched on the portable oxygen concentrator and handed Amelia her own nasal cannula. She swapped the two very quickly and Esme buttoned up her coat and stuck a beanie on her head. Amelia watched as Carlisle walked out of her room to answer a phone call.
"You have a spot of something on your cheek," Esme muttered, rifling through her handbag for a tissue and attacking Amelia's cheek with it.
"Mom!" Amelia protested, trying to squirm out of her mother's grasp.
"It's a delightful shade of yellow and red," replied Esme, stepping back and tossing the tissue in the trashcan. Amelia glared at her and shook her head in disdain.
"Your chariot awaits, milady," said Carlisle, arriving with a wheelchair. Surprisingly, she got in without comment. It struck her parents then just how much the latest stint in ICU had cost her. Esme had wanted to cry when she saw her daughter's body on Friday. Amelia had lost even more weight than when Esme had first laid eyes on her. It had been an uphill battle to get her to gain any weight. Amelia had been thrilled when she had picked up nearly three pounds. It was progress, while not much to the casual observer, it was a lot for someone with the massive digestive problems that she faced.
Amelia was starting to resemble Bella in her final stages of her pregnancy with Renesmee, that same sick, gaunt look and ever so thin, her bones protruding where a layer of muscle or fat usually covered them. They had almost lost Bella then, and even although Esme now knew that Amelia's decision to become immortal was affirmative and unwavering, she still had her concerns that they might lose Amelia anyway. They had almost lost her back in Rochester, and Esme was uneasy with just how close they had come to losing her on Tuesday and again on Friday. It shook her to the core. She really did need to have a little heart to heart with her daughter in the near future.
After bidding farewell to the ICU staff, they left the hospital. Rosalie had been the person who had phoned Carlisle earlier, telling him that she had fetched Amelia's medicine for them so that Carlisle and Esme could get Amelia home as soon as possible. She had already unpacked it and taken the IVs upstairs, and had Amelia's medication breakfast medication out next to a glass of water and some cereal waiting by the time the trio arrived home. Emmett had been pacing up and down and was delighted when he heard the Mercedes' tyres turning onto the driveway.
"You'd better undo your seatbelt now," warned Esme as Carlisle opened the garage door.
"Be ready to make a hasty escape from the car," commented Carlisle, "concentrator included."
"Why?" asked Amelia, doing as she was told.
"Squirt!" boomed Emmett, wrenching the interleading door open and bounding into the garage the moment the Mercedes pulled into its designated parking spot. He threw open the back door and pulled his little sister out of the car, delighted that she was home. He lifted her into the air and grinned up at her, then threw her over his shoulder and sauntered into the house.
"I see what you mean," was the last thing Esme heard as Amelia was deposited onto the floor and given a hero's welcome by her family.
"Emmett," said Carlisle, shaking his head in amusement and climbing out the car himself.
"All of my babies are home," stated Esme happily, going to the boot and taking Amelia's overnight bag out of it, along with her beloved teddy bear. "Oh hush you!" she called when she heard her five elder children protesting. Carlisle shut the boot and they left the garage hand in hand.
After shrugging off her coat and dumping the bag in the laundry room, Esme walked into the living room where all six of her children, daughter-in-law and granddaughter were seated. The Denalis and Blythe had gone to do a little shopping so as to give the Cullens some time alone with Amelia.
"Let Amelia eat some breakfast. You can do plenty of catching up afterwards," she chided gently. With an apologetic smile at her siblings, Amelia stood up and followed her mother into the kitchen, pausing only to take off her coat, scarf and beanie and hang them up. She sighed when someone, presumably Carlisle, swopped her oxygen lines. She seated herself at the island and dug into her cereal without comment and took her medication. She seemed almost resigned. Halfway through her cereal, she set down her spoon and rested her head on her left hand. Her right hand still had a drip site. Esme could hear Carlisle adding the antibiotics and the feeds to the IV pole once used by Bella and now occupying a spot in Amelia's room, much to Alice's horror. It clashed something awful.
"Not hungry?" queried Esme gently. Amelia glanced up and shook her head, stifling a yawn, "you need to eat a little more than just that, sweetheart."
"I know, Mom," she whispered, offering Esme a weak smile. She got up and walked over to one of the numerous cupboards and opened it up, selecting a mug and shutting it again. She then picked up her bowl of cereal and walked to the sink, before pouring the contents of the bowl into the mug. She wasn't exactly accurate and some milk spilled down the side. She wiped the mug and moved it away before cleaning her bowl and putting it on the drying rack. She nearly dropped it but fortunately Esme caught it before it could break.
"I'm sorry," Amelia apologised softly. Esme frowned and noticed how Amelia's hands were shaking.
"What's wrong?" she asked, taking her daughter's trembling hand in her icy one.
"It takes a little while for the nebuliser meds to wear off. It's a new one," said Amelia, "do you mind if I go and lie down for a little while?"
"Not at all. Let's get you upstairs," said Esme, picking up the cereal mug and glass of water that Rosalie had set out for her. They made their way slowly up the stairs.
"Do you mind if I check your blood glucose levels?" asked Carlisle, joining them in Amelia's bedroom. Amelia held out her right hand and allowed Carlisle to test it, "It's normal."
Amelia nodded and untied her shoes, before pulling them off and placing them neatly next to bed. She walked into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then pulled her left arm into the hoodie and pulled it off her head as well, before easing the right sleeve over the drip on her hand. She didn't want it to be resited if she accidentally pulled it out.
"Can I maybe have a quick shower first please?" she asked, "I haven't bathed since Friday and I smell. And those sheets are clean and smell nice, and well, I don't."
"Why not bath and I'll wash your hair for you?" suggested Esme.
"Sounds great," said Amelia, eating a spoonful of cereal before waltzing back into the bathroom to run herself a well-deserved bath.
