Jack Strong Takes a Stand (15 page)

 

PART
3

AFTER

 

39

 

Hospitals kind of freak me out.

The walls are really white. The floors are really shiny. The whole place has that gross overly clean smell. And everyone is whispering.

My goal in life is to hang out in hospitals as little as possible.

Luckily, Nana's nurse, who was named Jagadesh, was a really friendly person.

Plus, he recognized me.

“You're Jack Strong,” he said, as we waited for the doctor to bring us some news.

“Yes,” I answered, a little out of breath. Walking up the stairs from the underground parking lot to the lobby was the most non-yoga exercise I'd had in almost two weeks.

“I admire what you're doing,” said Jagadesh. “Standing up for your rights. Very cool.”

I tried to smile, but I was too worried. Nana didn't look good at all when they took her out of the ambulance and into the emergency room. She tried to wave at me but her mouth was covered by an oxygen mask and she had tubes running to her arms.

When I saw her go through the hospital doors I'd started to cry a little bit, but I didn't want my parents to see me so I made myself stop. My mom was already very scared, and if she saw me crying that definitely would have made it worse.

In the waiting room, my parents sat down. My dad looked at me and pointed to a couch.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I'd rather stand.”

We all laughed at that and felt a little bit better.

And then we waited.

*   *   *

There was a television in the waiting room, and it was tuned to Brody's show. It was just ending, since it had taken us about fifteen minutes to get to the hospital and fifteen more to fill out the paperwork.

Brody and Shaina were talking at the desk on the stage, in our front yard. Watching them almost didn't feel real.

“This has been a memorable night, for so many reasons,” Brody said.

“I've never seen anything like it,” Shaina agreed.

“I sure hope that wonderful woman is okay,” Brody added.

My dad got up and turned off the TV.

When he got back to the couch, he hugged my mom for a long time.

About an hour later the doctor came out. She looked young enough to be my sister, but my parents looked at her like she had the fate of the world in her hands. Which, in a way, she did.

“I'm Dr. Worsfold,” she said, shaking my parents' hands. “You must be Mrs. Kellerman's daughter.”

My mom stepped forward and nodded.

“Your mother went into cardiac arrest,” said the doctor. “We're still working to restore a normal heart rate. We should know more in the next hour or so.”

My mom managed to nod. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“She's a real fighter,” said Dr. Worsfold.

My mom nodded again and started to cry. My dad hugged her, then turned to the doctor.

“Tell me about it,” he said.

 

40

 

After another hour or so,
Dr. Worsfold came back to tell us that Nana had stabilized, but that she needed emergency angioplasty.

“It's a common procedure,” the doctor explained, “but at Rose's age, of course, any surgery is a risk.”

My parents looked at each other.

“I think she'll be just fine, but unfortunately there are no guarantees,” the doctor added, answering the unasked question.

“Of course,” said my mom. “Well, let's get to it then. The sooner the better.”

With my parents' permission, Jagadesh arranged it so I could be the last one to talk to Nana before she went into the operating room.

A bunch of doctors and nurses and technicians were hurrying in and out of Nana's room, checking instruments, writing in charts, and examining every inch of her body. She saw me come in and rolled her eyes.

“I haven't had this many people fawn over me since before I was married,” she said. Then she patted the bed. “Come sit.”

I wasn't sure what to say. “Good luck” sounded kind of dumb and “I hope everything goes okay” sounded negative.

So I just said, “I love you, Nana.”

She hugged me as hard as she could, which wasn't very hard. “I love you, too, Moochie-Pooch.” Then she pushed me back so she could look at me. “This has been quite a couple of weeks, hasn't it?”

“Yup.”

She hoisted herself up on her pillows. “I meant every word I said. I'm so proud of you. But now it's time to get back to living.”

“I know,” I said, looking at the shiny white floor.

“Life is short, Jack,” said Nana. “Too short to be doing things you don't want to do. But way too short to not be doing anything at all.”

I nodded, and she lay back down on the bed, tired from the effort of talking. The doctors told us it was time to go. As she was getting wheeled away, Nana looked up at me.

“Meet me back here in three hours for
Law & Order
.”

 

41

 

Have you ever eaten
hospital cafeteria food? It turns out it's pretty good. Especially the chocolate pudding.

During Nana's surgery, we all went to get something to eat. My dad and I both ate pudding. My mom had a sandwich, but she was staring at it more than eating it. No one said anything for a while.

Finally I looked up.

“Mom? Dad? I've decided to end my strike.”

“That's wonderful news, honey!” my mom exclaimed.

My dad kept working on his pudding. He'd barely said a word since we got to the hospital, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“Starting tomorrow,” I went on. “There's the first baseball summer league tryout, and I want to go. And I want to go to orchestra rehearsal, too. I want to concentrate on baseball and cello. Those are the things I love and those are the things I want to do. And I know how lucky I am that I get to do them.”

I waited, thinking my dad would say something, but he didn't.

“And there are a lot of other things I might want to do that I don't even know about yet. Like work in a kitchen supply store, for example.”

My dad still didn't look up, but I think I saw him smile just a little bit at the reference to his childhood.

“And Junior EMTs,” said my mother.

“And Junior EMTs,” I agreed.

“But I shouldn't have to do all that stuff I don't want to do,” I went on. “Life's too short for that, just like Nana says.” I stopped, trying not to cry. “And how can you argue with a woman whose heart is working overtime?”

Mom smiled. I had one last thing to say.

“Plus, I think we can all agree that this is going to look pretty awesome on my college application.”

My dad finally looked up.

“Now you're talking my language,” he said.

I laughed, because I wasn't sure what else to do. Then I waited. My dad put down his spoon, picked up his tray, and threw out his garbage. Then he refilled his coffee cup and got back on line for some more food. I think he was stalling. Finally, he came back over and sat down.

“The day I left for college, it was raining,” he said. “The drive should have taken three hours, but it took five. My mom drove the whole way, with my dad doing the navigating. I sat in the back.” He took a sip of coffee. “I think we said maybe ten words to each other the whole way up.”

“How come?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It was the biggest day of my life, but it was almost too big. Nobody could think of anything to say.”

I sat, waiting, knowing he wasn't done.

“Finally we got there, my mom makes my bed, my dad puts a few posters on the wall. Then, it was time for them to get going. None of us wanted a long drawn-out thing, though. So I hugged my mom, and we said our I-love-yous and goodbyes. Then I hugged my dad, but not too hard, because he'd already lost a lot of weight by then. He was still quiet, but I couldn't let him go without saying something. So I said, ‘I'll make you proud, dad, I promise.'”

My father looked up at the hospital ceiling—maybe through the ceiling, actually, up to the sky and beyond, maybe to his own father.

“Dad just looked at me,” he said. “Then he shook his head once and said, ‘You already have, son. You already have.'”

My dad stopped for a second. My mom took his hand and squeezed it.

Then he turned and looked straight at me.

“I don't want to say I'm wrong and you're right,” he said. “That might be the case, but I'm not ready to say that just yet.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “But you know how I always talk about how finding your ‘thing' is so important?” I nodded. Did I ever! That's how this whole craziness started.

“Well, maybe you've already found it,” my dad said. “Because sticking up for what you believe in is the greatest thing of all.”

My heart felt huge in my chest, and I wasn't sure I could talk. But I managed to say two words. “Thanks, Dad.”

He let out a big, exhausted sigh. “So now, back to the matter at hand. I tried to make it back to the TV show to say this on the air, but your nana beat me to it. You shouldn't have to do things you have absolutely no interest in. I can't argue with that.” He looked at my mom, then back at me. “But the things you are interested in, I want you to pursue with all your heart.” He held out his hand. “Fair enough?”