Page 47 of Play the Last Card
“Scott Harvey,” I say, getting up from my seat next to Ivy’s and holding my hand out to shake Bryden’s. His eyes widen and his jaw drops, just a little. I quickly take my seat back on the bed and snake an arm around Ivy, pulling her close again. I redirect the topic to the reason we’re here. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Dr. Bryden sighs, leaning against the blank bit of wall next to the whiteboard he was writing on when we came in. There’s tiny writing of red letters,O-R-7written across the top and then three other doctors' names below.
“Billy was taking a shower earlier this evening. Something he’s been relatively independent at so far. The nurses have told me that apart from the first day he was here, they haven’t needed to assist him in going to the bathroom or showering more than helping him out of bed and getting his things set up in the bathroom,” he explains.
Ivy leans further into me, her head resting against my shoulder as she listens. I tighten my hold around her shoulders.
“We think he slipped on some water getting out of the shower because the water hadn’t been running when the nurses found him. He wouldn’t have been out more than a minute, less even. The girls check on his room pretty regularly. They love him.” He offers Ivy another one of his smiles before continuing. “The fall caused a small brain bleed and he broke arib or two upon landing. He was being rushed to emergency surgery as we called you in. He’ll be in there a few more hours but I’m confident they’ll stop the bleeding.”
Ivy sniffles beside me and I shift my attention to her face. A few tears roll in tracks down her cheeks. My hand lifts, a thumb brushing them away.
“Is he going to be okay?” Ivy asks in a small voice.
“I suspect he will be just fine. Rattled, but fine.” Bryden pushes off the wall and comes to stand in front of us, placing a gentle hand on Ivy’s shoulder.
“But,” he says, taking a deep breath like he’s preparing for a fight. “Ivy, we’ve talked about this before. Billy is old. He’s getting more and more fragile. This is simply the latest incident in a long line of them. You need to start making plans for long term, end of life care.”
She starts to shake her head furiously, back and forth, pushing herself away from Bryden. Away from me. She stands moving around the bed and over to the window, arms wrapping around herself. When she turns her back and her shoulders start to shake with the silent sobs wracking through her body, I stand too.
“Ivy,” Bryden continues, “I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t true. I’ve been Billy’s doctor for a long time and I know he hates to show it, but he’s old. He’s dying. It’s time to come to terms with that.”
She doesn’t turn around and she doesn’t answer. Her phone buzzes a few times as she turns it over and over in her hands. The way that Bryden looks over at her, the way his eyes soften and his sad smile is still stretched across his mouth tells me he’s had this conversation with her before. He sighs again. “I will let you know when I have more updates. You can wait here if you’re going to stay, otherwise if you want to head home I will call you when I know more.”
“I’ll …” she hiccups. “I’m staying.”
“Okay. Let me or one of the nurses know if you need anything. I’m going to stay until the surgeons have given the all clear.”
Her phone buzzes for the fifth time in less than a minute. She glances at the screen and types out a reply before setting it back on the side of the couch.
I know it’s probably Katie again. Ivy’s best friend has been messaging non-stop since she let her know that we were coming here. Katie has been messaging her nonstop.
Should she come to the hospital? No, Ivy had replied.
Are you alone? Also, no.
Is Pops alive? Yes. Barely.
I stand quietly behind her. She’s still shaking.
“Ivy, baby,” I whisper in her ear. I take her shoulders and pull her gently back toward the couch. “Sit down.”
She doesn't protest and lets me pull her down to the couch. Her body curls into mine and her head rests easily on my shoulder.
She’s quiet for a while. I keep thinking she might fall asleep but then her phone buzzes and her eyes peel open. I wish I could tell Katie to knock it off. My girl needs sleep. She’s strong as hell but she’s tired.
We haven’t heard anything about how the surgery is going yet and it’s been over an hour, at least. My legs are stiff. The arm that’s wrapped around Ivy has gone numb and the fingers that draw small, gentle patterns on her arm works automatically. I flex the fingers on my free hand in an effort to keep them awake.
Even in the moments when her eyes are closed, the tears still leak from beneath the closed lids. I lift my free hand to gently brush them away whenever they do. Every so often her body will start to convulse and she’ll gasp for air, like she stopped breathing but didn’t notice and it suddenly catches up with her.
She hasn’t said a word since Dr. Bryden left us here alone. The nurses rotate in every so often, checking in on her when they can. She doesn’t respond and I just say a quiet “no,thank you” for her whenever they come in.
Her phone buzzes again and I instinctively want to reach for it first so I can tell Katie to shut the fuck up with the texts but the buzzing keeps going. Someone is calling. Ivy lifts the screen so she can see who it is and I glimpse the name. The air empties from my lungs and an invisible band tightens around my chest.
Jeff Bradydisplays across the screen accompanied by a photo of her standing beside my coach. My head coach.
What the fuck?
Ivy swipes a finger across the screen, answering the call before putting the phone to her ear. “Hi, Uncle Jeff.”