it—”
“Oh, for pete’s sake, Shaun, are you listening to me at all?” Savannah pushed herself from the couch, glaring at him as she swayed on her feet. “We should deal with it, of course we should. But dealing with it doesn’t have to be—” She reached out a hand to the back of the couch, grasping it tightly as her other hand flew to her chest. “Oh …”
Shaun, frozen in shock, watched as Savannah seemed to fall in slow motion, her legs folding beneath her and her body settling in a heap on the floor.
CHAPTER 4
S AVANNAH HADN’T BEEN TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM SINCE HER last miscarriage. She welcomed the distraction of a new environment, letting herself stare unapologetically at the nurses and doctors as they walked or ran past her room. It kept her mind off her own troubles — like how much harder it was to breathe, and how much more her chest ached.
Shaun looked about as awful as she felt. He sat beside her bed in a plastic chair, shoulders hunched and features etched with worry. She’d never forget the look on his face when she’d regained consciousness — it still hadn’t faded entirely. The intake nurse had asked him twice if he was alright.
The time passed slowly. The ER didn’t seem full, but apparently it was still busy. She had nothing to compare it to, other than the rare episode of hospital dramas she’d seen on TV, and who knew how accurate those were. Regardless, it took half an hour for a doctor to finally come to Savannah’s bed and pick up the chart; when she did Savannah’s nerves kicked up a notch for fear of what she might say. Shaun straightened in the chair and they reached simultaneously for each other’s hands.
“Hi there, Mrs. Trover. I’m Dr. Rockwell.” She pulled over a stool, lips pursed, and looked over Savannah’s chart. “Weakness and fatigue for two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“And the fainting spell this evening.”
“Yes, that’s never happened before.”
Dr. Rockwell pulled her stethoscope from her neck and settled it into place. “You told the nurse your chest ached. For how long?”
“I don’t know — three or four days, maybe? But not as badly as it does now.”
“Have you had shortness of breath, vomiting, diarrhea?”
Savannah blinked at the rapid-fire questions. “Um — short of breath, yes. It used to be just when I’d go up the stairs, but it’s a lot harder to breathe now than it was before I fainted.”
Dr. Rockwell moved the chest piece to a new place, eyes trained somewhere above Savannah’s head as she listened. “Have you ever had a stress test, heart catheterization, echocardiogram?”
“No, never — I’m usually very healthy.”
“Do you have high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol, or do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been told you have a weak heart?”
The questions were becoming unnerving. “No. No to all of it. Like I said, I’m usually really healthy. Although …” She rubbed a hand to her chest. Talking so much was making it hurt more. “My doctor told me today to get an echo done. I was going to make the appointment tomorrow.”
The doctor helped Savannah sit up, then pushed her hair behind her ears and settled the chest piece between Savannah’s shoulder blades. “Deep breath in, please.”
It was more difficult than she expected it to be. She bit her lip, trying not to jump to any conclusions.
“Your doctor didn’t hear anything amiss in your lungs?”
“Rales — he said he heard rales.”
“Did you get a chest X-ray?”
“Yes, at the imaging center in his medical building. He said he saw fluid in my lungs and told me to get an echo done because my heart didn’t look right.”
Dr. Rockwell removed the stethoscope and laid it around her neck. “That’s consistent with what I’m hearing. I’m sending you up for an X- ray, we’re going to check your lungs again, and your heart.”
Shaun’s hand tightened on hers. “Any idea what it might be?” His voice sounded strained.
“I don’t want to
“Oh, for pete’s sake, Shaun, are you listening to me at all?” Savannah pushed herself from the couch, glaring at him as she swayed on her feet. “We should deal with it, of course we should. But dealing with it doesn’t have to be—” She reached out a hand to the back of the couch, grasping it tightly as her other hand flew to her chest. “Oh …”
Shaun, frozen in shock, watched as Savannah seemed to fall in slow motion, her legs folding beneath her and her body settling in a heap on the floor.
CHAPTER 4
S AVANNAH HADN’T BEEN TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM SINCE HER last miscarriage. She welcomed the distraction of a new environment, letting herself stare unapologetically at the nurses and doctors as they walked or ran past her room. It kept her mind off her own troubles — like how much harder it was to breathe, and how much more her chest ached.
Shaun looked about as awful as she felt. He sat beside her bed in a plastic chair, shoulders hunched and features etched with worry. She’d never forget the look on his face when she’d regained consciousness — it still hadn’t faded entirely. The intake nurse had asked him twice if he was alright.
The time passed slowly. The ER didn’t seem full, but apparently it was still busy. She had nothing to compare it to, other than the rare episode of hospital dramas she’d seen on TV, and who knew how accurate those were. Regardless, it took half an hour for a doctor to finally come to Savannah’s bed and pick up the chart; when she did Savannah’s nerves kicked up a notch for fear of what she might say. Shaun straightened in the chair and they reached simultaneously for each other’s hands.
“Hi there, Mrs. Trover. I’m Dr. Rockwell.” She pulled over a stool, lips pursed, and looked over Savannah’s chart. “Weakness and fatigue for two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“And the fainting spell this evening.”
“Yes, that’s never happened before.”
Dr. Rockwell pulled her stethoscope from her neck and settled it into place. “You told the nurse your chest ached. For how long?”
“I don’t know — three or four days, maybe? But not as badly as it does now.”
“Have you had shortness of breath, vomiting, diarrhea?”
Savannah blinked at the rapid-fire questions. “Um — short of breath, yes. It used to be just when I’d go up the stairs, but it’s a lot harder to breathe now than it was before I fainted.”
Dr. Rockwell moved the chest piece to a new place, eyes trained somewhere above Savannah’s head as she listened. “Have you ever had a stress test, heart catheterization, echocardiogram?”
“No, never — I’m usually very healthy.”
“Do you have high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol, or do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been told you have a weak heart?”
The questions were becoming unnerving. “No. No to all of it. Like I said, I’m usually really healthy. Although …” She rubbed a hand to her chest. Talking so much was making it hurt more. “My doctor told me today to get an echo done. I was going to make the appointment tomorrow.”
The doctor helped Savannah sit up, then pushed her hair behind her ears and settled the chest piece between Savannah’s shoulder blades. “Deep breath in, please.”
It was more difficult than she expected it to be. She bit her lip, trying not to jump to any conclusions.
“Your doctor didn’t hear anything amiss in your lungs?”
“Rales — he said he heard rales.”
“Did you get a chest X-ray?”
“Yes, at the imaging center in his medical building. He said he saw fluid in my lungs and told me to get an echo done because my heart didn’t look right.”
Dr. Rockwell removed the stethoscope and laid it around her neck. “That’s consistent with what I’m hearing. I’m sending you up for an X- ray, we’re going to check your lungs again, and your heart.”
Shaun’s hand tightened on hers. “Any idea what it might be?” His voice sounded strained.
“I don’t want to
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