came to tell her that Danny needed surgery to remove a blood clot from his brain, and Jenny had to sign a release form so they could proceed. Jenny barely heard the explanation, the risks described that all seemed to end with one word, death.
In the end she signed the paper, knowing she had no other choice. Danny was in critical condition.
At some point, Jenny sat down in a chair. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Alan paced between her and the pay phone at the end of the room. Nurses and doctors walked in and out. People were called in. People came out. Some were bleeding. Some were crying, but Jenny didn't care. Her thoughts were only for Danny.
Her child was somewhere behind the double doors. He was being cut into. All she could think of was how much Danny hated getting a shot. A big baby, he was, and the thought made her cry.
The tears streamed down her face, but not a sound passed her lips. She didn't know her face was wet until Alan handed her a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and handed it back.
It was nine o'clock when Merrilee arrived at the hospital. She rushed over to Jenny and threw her arms around her. Jenny stiffened under her embrace.
"How is he?" Merrilee asked.
Jenny stared back at her, unable to speak. Merrilee looked at Alan.
He shrugged. "We don't know anything except they rushed him into surgery."
"Surgery? Oh God. You didn't say it was that bad." Merrilee caught herself. "Of course it isn't that bad. Danny will be fine. You'll see, Jennifer." She squeezed Jenny's hands for reassurance.
"You don't know that." The words burst out of Jenny. "You didn't see him. You didn't see all that blood on the ground."
Merrilee looked taken aback, as if Jenny had struck her with her fists instead of her words. "No, I didn't, but I have faith, Jenny. God wouldn't take Danny, not yet. Danny's a child. He'll be all right. Next week, he'll be sitting at the table on Thanksgiving, laughing and licking the whipped cream off the top of his pumpkin pie."
Jenny closed her eyes, hoping her sister would go away. She didn't want to listen to Merrilee's silly talk about holidays. She didn't want to think about anything but Danny. If she concentrated on his face, if she could remember every freckle on his cheeks, if she could hear his laugh again, if she could will him to live, he would have to live.
* * *
Danny felt a pain in his head and his chest. There was a feeling of incredible heaviness in his stomach, contrasted by nothingness in his arms and legs, as if they were no longer attached to his body. He tried to take a breath, but it hurt, so he stopped. He felt something being pushed down his nose. All around him came the sound of voices, but nothing was familiar.
He wanted to call out for help, but he couldn't open his mouth. His next attempt was to open his eyes. Nothing happened. The effort only made the pain worse, so bad he couldn't even cry. And he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream for his mother. He wanted her arms around him.
A sense of terror filled his soul. Was he going to die?
A light came in front of his eyes, growing stronger, pulling him into it with so much power that he couldn't resist going along. For some reason, his fear eased. He was more curious than afraid.
He wanted to go with the light. It beckoned him. It danced in front of his eyes like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. There were shapes in the light, figures, floating, flying, and he had the incredible sense that he was going with them to a place that was far away from everything he knew.
The pain in his head vanished. The heaviness in his stomach lifted. The frustration of not being able to open his eyes or take a breath completely faded away.
His body was as light as a feather, and he was above it all.
Suddenly Danny could see, and what he saw shocked him.
It was his body lying on a table. Surrounding him were men and women wearing baggy green pants and shirts. They had masks over their faces and plastic gloves on
In the end she signed the paper, knowing she had no other choice. Danny was in critical condition.
At some point, Jenny sat down in a chair. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Alan paced between her and the pay phone at the end of the room. Nurses and doctors walked in and out. People were called in. People came out. Some were bleeding. Some were crying, but Jenny didn't care. Her thoughts were only for Danny.
Her child was somewhere behind the double doors. He was being cut into. All she could think of was how much Danny hated getting a shot. A big baby, he was, and the thought made her cry.
The tears streamed down her face, but not a sound passed her lips. She didn't know her face was wet until Alan handed her a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and handed it back.
It was nine o'clock when Merrilee arrived at the hospital. She rushed over to Jenny and threw her arms around her. Jenny stiffened under her embrace.
"How is he?" Merrilee asked.
Jenny stared back at her, unable to speak. Merrilee looked at Alan.
He shrugged. "We don't know anything except they rushed him into surgery."
"Surgery? Oh God. You didn't say it was that bad." Merrilee caught herself. "Of course it isn't that bad. Danny will be fine. You'll see, Jennifer." She squeezed Jenny's hands for reassurance.
"You don't know that." The words burst out of Jenny. "You didn't see him. You didn't see all that blood on the ground."
Merrilee looked taken aback, as if Jenny had struck her with her fists instead of her words. "No, I didn't, but I have faith, Jenny. God wouldn't take Danny, not yet. Danny's a child. He'll be all right. Next week, he'll be sitting at the table on Thanksgiving, laughing and licking the whipped cream off the top of his pumpkin pie."
Jenny closed her eyes, hoping her sister would go away. She didn't want to listen to Merrilee's silly talk about holidays. She didn't want to think about anything but Danny. If she concentrated on his face, if she could remember every freckle on his cheeks, if she could hear his laugh again, if she could will him to live, he would have to live.
* * *
Danny felt a pain in his head and his chest. There was a feeling of incredible heaviness in his stomach, contrasted by nothingness in his arms and legs, as if they were no longer attached to his body. He tried to take a breath, but it hurt, so he stopped. He felt something being pushed down his nose. All around him came the sound of voices, but nothing was familiar.
He wanted to call out for help, but he couldn't open his mouth. His next attempt was to open his eyes. Nothing happened. The effort only made the pain worse, so bad he couldn't even cry. And he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream for his mother. He wanted her arms around him.
A sense of terror filled his soul. Was he going to die?
A light came in front of his eyes, growing stronger, pulling him into it with so much power that he couldn't resist going along. For some reason, his fear eased. He was more curious than afraid.
He wanted to go with the light. It beckoned him. It danced in front of his eyes like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. There were shapes in the light, figures, floating, flying, and he had the incredible sense that he was going with them to a place that was far away from everything he knew.
The pain in his head vanished. The heaviness in his stomach lifted. The frustration of not being able to open his eyes or take a breath completely faded away.
His body was as light as a feather, and he was above it all.
Suddenly Danny could see, and what he saw shocked him.
It was his body lying on a table. Surrounding him were men and women wearing baggy green pants and shirts. They had masks over their faces and plastic gloves on
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