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CHAPTER 12
She sat in the private waiting room at Atlanta General, twisting the chain she wore around her neck in her fingers. Bailey was talking on the phone in the corner, and George was playing with his laptop.
"Where is Grace?" she asked again, for the fifteenth time, "I need Grace to be here. She could tell us what's happening."
"It's alright Rachel," said George putting his arm around her. "The doctors here are excellent. They're doing everything possible. John will be o.k. He's a fighter."
But Rachel closed her eyes, and relived the nightmarish experience of being crammed in the ambulance, watching the paramedic pull John's shirt off, push needles into his arm, and shove an oxygen mask on his face, and watching all the blood that just kept trickling out of the bullet wound in his stomach, no matter how the paramedic tried to stop it.
At that moment, Grace came through the door, and Rachel ran up to her. "Well, what's going on? Can you find out?" she pleaded. Bailey hung up the phone and came over to them. "Is there anything you can do Grace?" he asked.
"He's in surgery at the moment, there's nothing anyone can do but wait," she said soothingly. "Take a deep breath Rachel, and calm down."
"But Grace, he lost so much blood," whispered Rachel. "And I was so nasty to him."
Grace also put her arm around Rachel. "Dr Lewis is operating on John, he's one of the best surgeons we have. If he survived this long with a bullet in him, he can survive a little operation."
Bailey sat down next to Rachel. "I feel bad I didn't listen to you earlier," he said. "Always trust your instincts. You knew something was wrong. Why don't you just lie back on the sofa here, and close your eyes for a moment. We'll wake you when he comes out of theatre."
"You'll feel better," agreed Grace, "John will be out of it for a long time, rest now while you can."
"I can't," she said, and began pacing up and down. "I can't sleep now."
"I could," said Bailey wryly, "When I think of all the paperwork I'm facing over this."
Grace watched Rachel pace for a moment, then turned to leave the room. "I'll go and gown up, and see what's happening," she said, "Then will you promise to rest?"
Grace came back after a short while, and sat down next to Rachel. "They have almost finished," she said, "He will be in recovery a long while. Long enough for you to go home, have a shower and put some comfy clothes on. Honestly if you do that you'll feel so much better! I'll stay here with him in case he wakes up, but it's doubtful for a while."
George nodded, "I'll drive you home, and drop you off, go to John's and grab him some stuff - some clothes and personal stuff, then pick you up and we can come back."
She allowed them to persuade her, and followed George out of the hospital to the car, trying to analyze these strange new feelings that kept overwhelming her. She didn't understand why she felt so upset, or why she couldn't stop the tears pouring down her face. She only knew she had to get back to sit beside him, and be there when he woke.
When they got back, Bailey and Grace were standing outside the nurse's station, talking with a doctor. Rachel rushed up, "Is everything O.K.?"
"Fine," said Grace, hugging her, "You can go see him now, if you like, follow me," and she led Rachel down the corridor. "He's in there, but he'll be out of it for a long while," she said.
Rachel walked slowly over to the bed, where John lay very still, a bandage on one side of his head, i.v. lines coming out of his arm, and monitors recording his slow heartbeat, and breathing tube in his mouth, drips, drains and catheters everywhere!
She watched the rise and fall of his chest, in rhythm with the noise of the ventilator, and looked at the machines that he was hooked up to. There was a chair next to his bed, and wordlessly she sat down, her eyes never leaving his face. She was frightened by the pallor she saw there. She brought her knees up to her chest, and hugged them, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.
Grace watched her for a moment, then said, "I'm going home now, I've left my sister babysitting. He will be all right Rachel, he's pretty tough. I know this looks nasty, but he'll pull through."
She bent down and gave Rachel a quick hug, and left the area, giving Rachel the privacy she wanted. George and Bailey came over, and Bailey looked down at John, sighing deeply. "Can I get you anything Rachel?" he asked, "Are you going to stay here?"
Rachel nodded, and continued to bite her knuckles. "Can you bring me a coffee?" she finally whispered, "I can't leave here."
George and Bailey headed off towards the coffee machine, two floors down. "I've never seen Rachel so upset," said George, "I thought she and John were close to hating each other lately."
"Oh no," said Bailey, "I think they have both been fighting their feelings for one another for a long time. I'll get her some coffee, then leave them alone for a while."
Rachel sat curled up in the chair for a long time, watching John, watching the machines beeping and flashing, and printing out numbers, watching the nurses come and go, checking their charts, checking on him. She finally allowed herself to cry properly and she cried until she felt she could cry no more, and then finally dozed off.
Hours and hours later, the surgeon coming back to look at his handiwork, and to pull out the chest tube awakened her.
"He's breathing o.k. on his own," he said to Rachel, "and is responding to stimuli. I was worried about the head wound, but he is coming around slowly. Our biggest worry now is infection."
She stood up and stretched, her spine felt like it was in knots, but in herself she felt better. John was breathing lightly, his eyes were still shut, and his long lashes lying on his pale cheekbones, his mouth slightly open. Even as she watched, she saw him grimace slightly, and turn his head on the pillow. A nurse carrying a bowl of water, and a towel pulled the curtains around his bed. "I'm just going to wash away some of the dried blood," she said to Rachel, "You can stay if you like." Rachel shook her head, "I'm going to find a ladies room, and freshen up - I won't be long," she replied.
She was back in five minutes, and the nurse was just finishing up. John was still asleep, but had moved position slightly. Avoiding his left arm, which had the i.v., she sat on his right side, and took his right hand in hers, squeezing it slightly. She had no idea what time it was, or even what day, but was content just to sit next to him, holding his hand and watching the stubble grow on his cheeks. She had a lot of thinking to do.
CHAPTER 12
She sat in the private waiting room at Atlanta General, twisting the chain she wore around her neck in her fingers. Bailey was talking on the phone in the corner, and George was playing with his laptop.
"Where is Grace?" she asked again, for the fifteenth time, "I need Grace to be here. She could tell us what's happening."
"It's alright Rachel," said George putting his arm around her. "The doctors here are excellent. They're doing everything possible. John will be o.k. He's a fighter."
But Rachel closed her eyes, and relived the nightmarish experience of being crammed in the ambulance, watching the paramedic pull John's shirt off, push needles into his arm, and shove an oxygen mask on his face, and watching all the blood that just kept trickling out of the bullet wound in his stomach, no matter how the paramedic tried to stop it.
At that moment, Grace came through the door, and Rachel ran up to her. "Well, what's going on? Can you find out?" she pleaded. Bailey hung up the phone and came over to them. "Is there anything you can do Grace?" he asked.
"He's in surgery at the moment, there's nothing anyone can do but wait," she said soothingly. "Take a deep breath Rachel, and calm down."
"But Grace, he lost so much blood," whispered Rachel. "And I was so nasty to him."
Grace also put her arm around Rachel. "Dr Lewis is operating on John, he's one of the best surgeons we have. If he survived this long with a bullet in him, he can survive a little operation."
Bailey sat down next to Rachel. "I feel bad I didn't listen to you earlier," he said. "Always trust your instincts. You knew something was wrong. Why don't you just lie back on the sofa here, and close your eyes for a moment. We'll wake you when he comes out of theatre."
"You'll feel better," agreed Grace, "John will be out of it for a long time, rest now while you can."
"I can't," she said, and began pacing up and down. "I can't sleep now."
"I could," said Bailey wryly, "When I think of all the paperwork I'm facing over this."
Grace watched Rachel pace for a moment, then turned to leave the room. "I'll go and gown up, and see what's happening," she said, "Then will you promise to rest?"
Grace came back after a short while, and sat down next to Rachel. "They have almost finished," she said, "He will be in recovery a long while. Long enough for you to go home, have a shower and put some comfy clothes on. Honestly if you do that you'll feel so much better! I'll stay here with him in case he wakes up, but it's doubtful for a while."
George nodded, "I'll drive you home, and drop you off, go to John's and grab him some stuff - some clothes and personal stuff, then pick you up and we can come back."
She allowed them to persuade her, and followed George out of the hospital to the car, trying to analyze these strange new feelings that kept overwhelming her. She didn't understand why she felt so upset, or why she couldn't stop the tears pouring down her face. She only knew she had to get back to sit beside him, and be there when he woke.
When they got back, Bailey and Grace were standing outside the nurse's station, talking with a doctor. Rachel rushed up, "Is everything O.K.?"
"Fine," said Grace, hugging her, "You can go see him now, if you like, follow me," and she led Rachel down the corridor. "He's in there, but he'll be out of it for a long while," she said.
Rachel walked slowly over to the bed, where John lay very still, a bandage on one side of his head, i.v. lines coming out of his arm, and monitors recording his slow heartbeat, and breathing tube in his mouth, drips, drains and catheters everywhere!
She watched the rise and fall of his chest, in rhythm with the noise of the ventilator, and looked at the machines that he was hooked up to. There was a chair next to his bed, and wordlessly she sat down, her eyes never leaving his face. She was frightened by the pallor she saw there. She brought her knees up to her chest, and hugged them, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.
Grace watched her for a moment, then said, "I'm going home now, I've left my sister babysitting. He will be all right Rachel, he's pretty tough. I know this looks nasty, but he'll pull through."
She bent down and gave Rachel a quick hug, and left the area, giving Rachel the privacy she wanted. George and Bailey came over, and Bailey looked down at John, sighing deeply. "Can I get you anything Rachel?" he asked, "Are you going to stay here?"
Rachel nodded, and continued to bite her knuckles. "Can you bring me a coffee?" she finally whispered, "I can't leave here."
George and Bailey headed off towards the coffee machine, two floors down. "I've never seen Rachel so upset," said George, "I thought she and John were close to hating each other lately."
"Oh no," said Bailey, "I think they have both been fighting their feelings for one another for a long time. I'll get her some coffee, then leave them alone for a while."
Rachel sat curled up in the chair for a long time, watching John, watching the machines beeping and flashing, and printing out numbers, watching the nurses come and go, checking their charts, checking on him. She finally allowed herself to cry properly and she cried until she felt she could cry no more, and then finally dozed off.
Hours and hours later, the surgeon coming back to look at his handiwork, and to pull out the chest tube awakened her.
"He's breathing o.k. on his own," he said to Rachel, "and is responding to stimuli. I was worried about the head wound, but he is coming around slowly. Our biggest worry now is infection."
She stood up and stretched, her spine felt like it was in knots, but in herself she felt better. John was breathing lightly, his eyes were still shut, and his long lashes lying on his pale cheekbones, his mouth slightly open. Even as she watched, she saw him grimace slightly, and turn his head on the pillow. A nurse carrying a bowl of water, and a towel pulled the curtains around his bed. "I'm just going to wash away some of the dried blood," she said to Rachel, "You can stay if you like." Rachel shook her head, "I'm going to find a ladies room, and freshen up - I won't be long," she replied.
She was back in five minutes, and the nurse was just finishing up. John was still asleep, but had moved position slightly. Avoiding his left arm, which had the i.v., she sat on his right side, and took his right hand in hers, squeezing it slightly. She had no idea what time it was, or even what day, but was content just to sit next to him, holding his hand and watching the stubble grow on his cheeks. She had a lot of thinking to do.