Read Online The Heart of Memory by Alison Strobel - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison Strobel
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Shaun?”
Shaun’s eyes never left the doctor. “You can fix this, right? What do we do now?”
“We’re going to admit you for an echocardiogram and a cardiology consult. But I’m encouraged by the fact that you’re still as active and alert as you are. I think we caught this just in the nick of time.”
T HE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WERE like a roller coaster that only went down.
It was past midnight when she was finally brought up to the room. She insisted Shaun go home and sleep since the night nurse assured her nothing else would be done until the morning. “I’ll call you as soon as they tell me when things will get going again.”
“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re here alone.”
“You’re exhausted. You’ll sleep. Believe me. You definitely won’t if you’re here, at least not well. Better chances in your own bed. Just go.”
She slept on and off, woken frequently by unfamiliar noises, vitals checks by the night nurse, and runaway dreams that left her breathless when she woke. Her breakfast was brought in at seven-thirty, and she gave up trying to sleep after that.
In the new semi-private room—which she shared with a woman whose heart monitor beep drove Savannah batty—the television with limited channels was her only source of entertainment, and nothing on the airwaves was interesting enough to hold her attention for long. As a result, her thoughts ran wild, dreaming up scenarios that all ended with her wishing she had pen and paper to write down her wishes for her funeral. She felt worse than she had when they’d first arrived in the ER. True fear was starting to set in.
She was taken after breakfast to the echo lab, Shaun arriving just minutes before the appointment, and underwent the echocardiogram. After that it was back to her room, where Shaun settled in to the chair beside her bed with a book and Savannah tried to take a nap. It was a pointless attempt—her keyed-up nerves were enough to override her exhaustion.
“Jessie wanted to know if she should come,” he said out of nowhere.
“What did you tell her?”
“That we would let her know when we found out anything, but that she didn’t need to come unless she really wanted to.”
“When does she leave for school again?”
Shaun thought a moment. “The 27th.”
“She’s got a lot on her plate with work and getting ready for the next semester. No sense in her wasting time here. Besides, anytime you visit someone in the hospital they always look worse than they really are. I wouldn’t want her getting scared when things aren’t really that bad.”
“Aren’t that bad?”
She kept her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m working on positive thinking.” She sighed and looked to the window, but the sunlight that snuck in through the cracks between the curtains and the walls hurt her eyes. “I should have asked you to bring my Bible.”
“Want me to find you one?”
“Would you?”
“Of course. I’m sure we’ve got one in the car. Give me a minute.”
He returned a bit later with a flimsy paperback version that had seen better days. “I should have thought of that when I came this morning. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’m not really in the mood to read. I wanted it more for the comfort.” She held it in her hands and frowned, disappointed. The unfamiliar feel of the cover couldn’t compare with the soft, worn leather of her personal Bible. She flipped to the Psalms and let her eyes skim the page until they caught a familiar verse:
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
She had written out those lines after her first miscarriage and taped them to the bathroom mirror. The verse had still been there when she’d had her second miscarriage, but sometime in the years after she’d removed it; the paper had curled from shower humidity and the words were ingrained on her heart and memory. Why hadn’t they come to mind
Shaun’s eyes never left the doctor. “You can fix this, right? What do we do now?”
“We’re going to admit you for an echocardiogram and a cardiology consult. But I’m encouraged by the fact that you’re still as active and alert as you are. I think we caught this just in the nick of time.”
T HE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WERE like a roller coaster that only went down.
It was past midnight when she was finally brought up to the room. She insisted Shaun go home and sleep since the night nurse assured her nothing else would be done until the morning. “I’ll call you as soon as they tell me when things will get going again.”
“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re here alone.”
“You’re exhausted. You’ll sleep. Believe me. You definitely won’t if you’re here, at least not well. Better chances in your own bed. Just go.”
She slept on and off, woken frequently by unfamiliar noises, vitals checks by the night nurse, and runaway dreams that left her breathless when she woke. Her breakfast was brought in at seven-thirty, and she gave up trying to sleep after that.
In the new semi-private room—which she shared with a woman whose heart monitor beep drove Savannah batty—the television with limited channels was her only source of entertainment, and nothing on the airwaves was interesting enough to hold her attention for long. As a result, her thoughts ran wild, dreaming up scenarios that all ended with her wishing she had pen and paper to write down her wishes for her funeral. She felt worse than she had when they’d first arrived in the ER. True fear was starting to set in.
She was taken after breakfast to the echo lab, Shaun arriving just minutes before the appointment, and underwent the echocardiogram. After that it was back to her room, where Shaun settled in to the chair beside her bed with a book and Savannah tried to take a nap. It was a pointless attempt—her keyed-up nerves were enough to override her exhaustion.
“Jessie wanted to know if she should come,” he said out of nowhere.
“What did you tell her?”
“That we would let her know when we found out anything, but that she didn’t need to come unless she really wanted to.”
“When does she leave for school again?”
Shaun thought a moment. “The 27th.”
“She’s got a lot on her plate with work and getting ready for the next semester. No sense in her wasting time here. Besides, anytime you visit someone in the hospital they always look worse than they really are. I wouldn’t want her getting scared when things aren’t really that bad.”
“Aren’t that bad?”
She kept her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m working on positive thinking.” She sighed and looked to the window, but the sunlight that snuck in through the cracks between the curtains and the walls hurt her eyes. “I should have asked you to bring my Bible.”
“Want me to find you one?”
“Would you?”
“Of course. I’m sure we’ve got one in the car. Give me a minute.”
He returned a bit later with a flimsy paperback version that had seen better days. “I should have thought of that when I came this morning. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’m not really in the mood to read. I wanted it more for the comfort.” She held it in her hands and frowned, disappointed. The unfamiliar feel of the cover couldn’t compare with the soft, worn leather of her personal Bible. She flipped to the Psalms and let her eyes skim the page until they caught a familiar verse:
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
She had written out those lines after her first miscarriage and taped them to the bathroom mirror. The verse had still been there when she’d had her second miscarriage, but sometime in the years after she’d removed it; the paper had curled from shower humidity and the words were ingrained on her heart and memory. Why hadn’t they come to mind
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