Chapter
17
Half
an hour later, AJ was sitting in a waiting room at Orlando General. Madison lay fast asleep in his arms. He had gotten to the hospital almost twenty
minutes before, but he still hadn’t heard anything on Tara’s condition. He grew more and more nervous with each
passing minute.
“What
the hell is taking so long?” he wondered angrily.
Finally,
a young, female doctor approached him.
“Mr. McLean?” she asked. AJ
nodded. “I’m Dr. Harper,” the woman
said, extending her hand.
AJ
shook it quickly, then anxiously asked, “How’s my wife doing?”
“Well,
we have her stabilized, and she’s resting right now,” replied Dr. Harper.
“What’s
wrong with her?” AJ asked. “She had a
cold, but I never thought it could get this bad.”
“Well,
it looks as if her cold has turned into pneumonia,” Dr. Harper said
gravely.
“Pneumonia?!”
AJ cried, his eyes wide with fear. “Is
she going to be all right?”
“It’s
too soon to tell,” the doctor replied.
“As you know, because of her HIV status, her immune system is weakened,
and therefore, it is much harder for her to fight the pneumonia. We’re giving her massive doses of
antibiotics, but we have no way of knowing if it will work or not.”
AJ
sighed. “May I see her now?” he asked miserably. Dr. Harper nodded.
“This
way,” she said. AJ stood and followed
her down the hall, Madison draped over his shoulder.
Dr.
Harper led them to an elevator, and they went up to the second floor, down
another hall, and finally to a private room, where Tara lay.
“I’ll
let you and your daughter have some time alone with her now,” Dr. Harper said.
“Thanks,”
AJ said and carried Madison in. Dr.
Harper closed the door behind them and disappeared down the hall. Madison stirred in AJ’s arms and opened her
eyes.
“Where
are we, Daddy?” she asked softly.
“We’re
at the hospital, sweetheart,” AJ replied.
“Mommy’s sick.” He motioned to
Tara, who lay sleeping in the bed before them.
AJ set Madison down and pulled a chair up next to Tara’s bed. He sat down, and Madison crawled into his
lap. Her eyes widened as she got a
better view of her mother. Tara was
hooked up to an IV and an oxygen tank, and she looked deathly pale.
“Is
Mommy okay?” Madison asked, her lower lip beginning to tremble.
“Mommy’s
sick, baby,” AJ said again, not knowing what else to tell his four year old
daughter.
“When
will she get better?” Madison asked.
“I
don’t know, baby,” AJ said, sighing. “I
don’t know.”
***
