"I have to warn you, your father won't be conscious. He's heavily sedated, and he's intubated as well," he said, leading Kim down the chilly, antiseptic white hall. He stopped at a door at the end of the hall and pushed it open.
Kim hesitated in the doorway. She felt an eerie sense of numbness overtake her as she slowly stepped inside the room, her eyes focusing on the form in the bed. This couldn't be her father. The man under the covers looked much smaller than her dad. Much older.
She stepped closer. There were tubes everywhere, coming out of her father's nose, his mouth, and his arm. This was not the strong, handsome, intimidating man she remembered. This man looked frail and weak. Helpless.
Kim was seized with a sudden, intense sense of impending loss. Until now, everything had seemed so surreal, almost as if she were having some sort of vivid dream. But now, for the first time in fifteen years, she was standing in front of her father, the man she had for so long held responsible for much of her pain and suffering. And surprisingly e
nough, she no longer felt any anger toward him. All she felt was love. Regardless of how he felt about her, he was her father, her only family, and she needed him to get well. "Dad," she said quietly. "Dad, it's me. It's Kim. You're going to be okay." Her father lay still. Kim doubted that he had even heard her. She glanced back at Dr. Harkavey, and he nodded encouragement
"Dad, I'm going to stay here with you. We're going to get through this. You're going to get better. Okay?" She picked up his lifeless hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
She felt a touch on her arm. Dr. Harkavey gently steered her out into the hall, shutting the door behind them. "I know it means a lot to him to have you here, Kim."
Kim pulled off her mask. The top of it was wet.
"Here," Dr. Harkavey said, handing her a tissue.
Kim touched her fingers to her cheek. No wonder the mask was wet. She was crying.
"Can I get you a glass of water? Some coffee?" Dr. Harkavey asked.
Kim shook her head. What a nice man he was. With a decent beard he could even pose as Santa.
Like a kindly grandfather, Dr. Harkavey took her arm and steered her back toward the waiting room. "If you like, I'll ask the surgeon to stop by when he arrives. He can answer any questions you have about the procedure."
"Yes," she said, nodding, as they paused outside the waiting room door. "Thank you. When is he going to get here?"
He glanced at his watch. "When he called he was in Toledo, and that was about two hours ago." Which would mean he should arrive at any minute. "He would've been here sooner," he continued, "but he was vacationing in the Caribbean this morning. He interrupted his vacation to come back here and take care of your father. Apparently he had some trouble with his flights. I haven't talked to him, but somebody said he got bumped from one of his connections, so he had to rent a car to get back here."
For some strange reason Kim had a sudden sense of dread. Just tired, she told herself. Tired and stressed. "Where did he have to drive from?"
"Pittsburgh or something."
"What's his name?" Kim asked hoarsely.
"Hoffman. Dr. Anthony Hoffman."
* * *
Chapter Three
Kim sat still on the couch, her back stiff, her forehead creased with worry. The TV was off and the only light, a floor lamp beside the couch, cast an eerie glow about the room. It was almost eleven o'clock, and she had not yet seen Dr. Anthony Hoffman. She stood up and walked over to the glass windows that separated the waiting room from the hall, anxiously awaiting his arrival. She gently rested her fingertips on the pane of glass as she leaned forward, stretching her neck to look down the hall. Please, she thought, praying for the arrival of the doctor. Please hurry.
She walked back to the couch and forced herself to sit back down. She stared at the half-finished puzzle in front of her. She could understand why they kept a hearty supply of jigsaw puzzles in this room. They were just about the only thing you could do when your entire body was consumed with a mind-numbing pain.
"Kim?"
Kim glanced up. Dr. Harkavey stood in the doorway. Beside him stood the same man she had met earlier that day. The only difference was that he had traded in his jeans and luau shirt for hospital-issue blue scrubs. It looked like he hadn't even had time to go home to shave.
"This is Dr. Hoffman. He's in charge of your father's heart surgery."
Kim nodded, waiting for him to say, Hey! You're the girl who gave me that sorry song and dance and swiped my ticket.
"Hi, Kim," he said instead, shaking her hand. "I'm Tony Hoffman. I thought you might have some questions."
Tony, she thought, focusing on how he had introduced himself. She preferred calling her doctors "doctor." But still, she was appreciative that he had not mentioned their earlier meeting. At least, he hadn't mentioned it yet. "Thank you… thank you for interrupting your vacation____"
"Of course," he said, letting her off the hook. Both he and Dr. Harkavey looked at her, as if waiting for her questions. "Um," she said. Her mind was a blank. "How long do you think the operation will be?"