XXXVI. Mending-2

I could hear how upset he was in his tone. I thought that rule was dumb too. So, a distant relative who you don't even know could theoretically find out information about you, but your boyfriend can't? "The doctor hasn't been in yet, but I had an infection, I think." "You think? Jesus, Sara, an infection is bad for someone like you. Can I talk to your mom?" I held the phone out to Mom and she smirked a little. "Hi, Shea, it's Amanda," she said, as she put the phone to her ear. "Yes, she's okay. No fever, the antibiotics are working. Yes, she had a dangerous infection. Cellulitis." While Mom spoke to Shea, Dad came to me and held my hand. "You really scared me, Saraphine," he told me seriously. "I'm sorry," I said sincerely. It was a really stupid error in judgement. I knew how bad infections were for me, and I just didn't think. I knew Mom was blaming herself, and the truth was, I didn't want to bother her. But I didn't blame her at all. I was just stupid for a moment. "I feel bad for the poor kid," he nodded to Mom, obviously meaning Shea. "You being so sick, so hurt these last few weeks, kid's gone through hell. And for someone like him, it's worse." "I know he worries about me," I replied. "It's more than that, Saraphine," Dad said knowingly. "The prospect of losing a mate, well, the pain is unimaginable. Trust me." He offered me a small, sympathetic smile. The on-call doctor entered the room just as Mom was telling Shea my room number. She had her tablet with her and was flicking through my chart. She smiled at me as she checked my IV. "Well, Miss Bryant, you certainly look a lot better than you did a few hours ago," she said cheerfully. "I feel a lot better," I replied. "Well, we've given you something to break your fever which is what is making you feel a lot better, and we've given you some medication for the pain, but the antibiotics to treat your infection will take a while to fully combat the bacteria," she explained. "Now, your file says you were explicitly informed about the risk of splenectomy post-operative infection and signs and symptoms to look out for. Is that correct?" Both Mom and Dad looked at me like I was a naughty child with my hand in the cookie jar. "Yes," I confirmed. I didn't really have a good excuse except for that I had a brain fart. "Right, well, you need to be vigilant, Sara," she told me, tut tutting. "You have what's called cellulitis. Cellulitis is an infection of the tissue under the skin. The lab confirmed it has been caused by exposure to haemophilus influenzae type B bacteria. Now this is a serious infection, Sara, because left untreated, cellulitis can lead to abscesses, necrotising fasciitis, sepsis, multi-limb amputation and death." She spoke so frankly, it felt like she had slapped me in the face. "Shit," I said in disbelief. "Yes, shit," she replied, nodding. "Your spleen plays a crucial role in your ability to fight off bacteria, and seeing as you no longer have one, bacterial infections are a very serious matter. I need you to understand that." "I do," I promised her, before looking to my parents. "I do." "Good." She began to type a few things into my chart before she checked some of the machines that were attached to me. "Mom and Dad, do you have any questions?" she asked my parents. "Not at the moment," my dad replied, "but my wife is a doctor, so if I think of anything …" Both Mom and I seemed to have the same reaction to my dad referring to her as his wife. We were both a little awestruck. "Okay, well, don't hesitate to press the call button if you do think of anything. It's important to be Mom first and doctor second in here. I'll be in later to check your vitals again, Sara." She offered us another smile before departing. The silence that followed was honestly a little awkward. Mom was still a little stunned and Dad didn't know what to say. We were all relieved when Shea suddenly appeared at the door with a nurse in tow, asking if he belonged to us. Shea, not taking any notice of my parents, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw me. He crossed the room in a second, cupped my face, and he kissed me. I could practically feel his anxiety melting away. But my dad had to go and be a dad and clear his throat. Shea pulled away but stayed close to search my face for any sign of harm. I probably looked terrible, but he was used to that. "Are you okay?" he asked me desperately. I was suddenly thankful that he missed my doctor's necrotising fasciitis and death speech. "Yes," I confirmed. "Just a little infection. I'm fine. They've got me hooked up to the good stuff," I joked, gesturing to my IV. "She's going to do a much better job of letting us know when she's not feeling well, now, aren't you Saraphine?" Dad arched an eyebrow. "Yes," I confirmed, nodding. "Did this start last night?" Shea asked. "I was there, the whole time, you could have told me. Why didn't you tell me?" "What?" both my parents suddenly asked. Shea paled, realising how that sounded. "On the phone!" he quickly corrected. "We fell asleep talking on the phone. I was at my house, in my own bed, nowhere near Sara, safe distances et cetera." I resisted laughing. "I wasn't feeling sick until this morning," I told him. "I should have said something, but I thought it was nothing." "Sara," Mom said gently, coming to sit beside me on the bed, opposite to Shea. "I'm so very sorry, honey. I should have seen that you weren't okay. I was being horribly selfish." I looked at my mom deadpan. "Mom, you have never been selfish, ever, not a day in your life. I'm the one who didn't say anything. You have nothing to be sorry for." I could tell that the fact that I wasn't holding a grudge, or the fact that I didn't blame her, truly meant a lot to my mom. I didn't want her to use this as an excuse to stop herself from living her life, or for exploring what was still there with Dad.