“Oh, Lang, thank God,” Rose said, stepping out of the intensive care room to hug her brother.
Lang could see his father through the glass, connected to tubes, wires, and a breathing apparatus. Martha Dillon sat beside him, holding his hand.
“What the hell happened?”
“Another heart episode. They’re still running tests. Manual found him when he went to close up. We don’t know how long he’d been lying there.”
“Has he spoken to anyone?”
“No, he’s been unconscious the whole time, although Mom swears he’s been squeezing her hand.”
“Jesus Christ,” he said, sinking down into a molded plastic chair just outside the room.
“Are you okay?” she asked, sitting down beside him. “You look a little green.”
Before Lang could answer, a tall doctor with a hooked nose and a shock of gray hair greeted them. “Are you Mr. Dillon’s relatives?”
“Yes, his son and daughter,” Rose said, waving to her mother, who hurried out to join them.
“I’m Dr. Matthias,” he said, leading them into a small anteroom. “We can talk in here.”
Once inside, he closed the door and motioned them to the sofa and chairs, then pulled one of the molded plastic chairs and sat facing them. “I’ve read through your husband’s charts,” he said, gazing at Martha, eyes solemn. “Mr. Dillon has had a more significant heart attack than the one he experienced last year. He has several major blockages that must be corrected. His cardiologist, Dr. Richmond, is away until the end of next week, but I’ve spoken with him. He feels we should operate immediately.”
“What if we choose to wait for Harold?” Martha asked. “He knows Jay so well, and we’ve been with him for years.”
“We’re giving your husband large doses of blood thinners and medications to ease the blockages, but they do not remove them. As long as they are present, Mr. Dillon is not getting adequate oxygen to his brain and the rest of his body. He’s at grave risk of another episode at any time.”
“What would the procedure entail?”
“We would put in four stents to correct the blockages and monitor him closely. It’s risky because his liver is damaged by the cirrhosis and last year’s flare-up of esophageal varices caused by the cirrhosis.”
“Cirrhosis!” Lang said, staring at his mother. “When did this start?”
“Now, Lang, settle down. Your dad didn’t want to worry you kids.”
“Did you know, Rosie?”
His sister shook her head.
Dr. Matthias looked from one to the other. “Would you like a few minutes to discuss all this, and I’ll come back?”
“Absolutely not!” Martha Dillon said, sitting up straighter, taking hold of her daughter’s hand. “We want him to have the treatment he needs as soon as possible.”
“Sorry,” Lang said. “She’s right, of course. Stents? Those don’t involve open heart surgery, do they?”
“No, we’ll go in through veins in his groin. There is a greater risk with your father’s history of bleeding, but if we don’t do the procedure, he has no chance.”
“When do you want to operate?” Rose asked quietly.
“Immediately, with the family’s consent.”
“I’m a physician, a pediatric surgeon. I would like to observe from the gallery, if I may.”
“That’s not a good idea, Dr. Dillon, but it’s your choice.”
“I would like to be there.”
He nodded, expression grave. “I’ll have one of the nurses come for you when it’s time.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Have you got any questions for me?” Dr. Matthias asked, gazing from one to the other. They shook their heads in response, and he rose. “I’ll be off, then. I’ll come back and talk with you after the procedure.”
After returning their mother to Jaybo’s bedside, Lang and Rose walked the corridor, talking softly. Finally he said, “This is gonna be a long night. I think we can use some coffee. I’ll run down. You wait in case they call you.”
Rose nodded, tears in her eyes, as she watched him walk away.