| |
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I should hang up now. I know I should. It’s after 1:30. Nobody calls anybody at this time of night.
“Hello?” Her voice is groggy. I should just tell her it’s the wrong number. Apologize and hang up.
“Dr. Bell?” My throat is dry and chalky.
“Who’s this?”
It’s my last chance to end the call and salvage my remaining dignity. “It’s Tiff Franklin. Natalie’s mom.”
I hear rustling in the background. Did I get her out of bed? “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know. We’re here at Children’s ...” I’m fumbling over every sentence. I need to start over. “I’m sorry to bother you. I just ...” I bite my lip so my voice won’t crack. “It’s just that they want to put Natalie on the ventilator, and I ...”
Great. I’m calling my daughter’s pediatrician in the middle of the night, and I can’t get out a single word.
“How’s she doing right now?”
I hear something in the background. A bathroom faucet, maybe. I can picture Dr. Bell splashing cold water on that flawless face. Why did I do this? How big of a fool am I?
“She’s having a really hard time breathing. It’s ...” I dig my fingernails into the skin of my forearm. Anything to get my mind off these tears that threaten to humiliate me. “It’s the worst I’ve seen her.” I keep my voice low. I’m the only one in the room with Natalie, but I already feel guilty, like I’m going behind everyone else’s back. “I don’t know what I should do.”
“You know, at this point, I’d really need to defer to the doctors at Children’s. They’re the ones who are most familiar with your daughter’s case. But if you’re asking for my personal opinion, not my professional one ...”
“Yes,” I interrupt. “That’s what I want.”
She sighs. “Are you having second thoughts about cancelling the DNR?”
I search her voice for signs of displeasure. Will she think I’m a monster if I choose to let my daughter die? I think about what Eliot said over dinner, how much his fiancée suffered at the end just to eke out a few more months here on earth. “I don’t know,” I answer.
“What are you doing?” A gruff voice breaks my illusion of Dr. Bell sitting in a quiet, serene room surrounded by white frilly curtains and flower arrangements in crystal vases.
“Hey, hon. Sorry I woke you.” There’s a hint of strain in her voice. Is she afraid? “It’s the mother of one of my kids.”
“Get back in bed.”
I’m embarrassed for her. I don’t know who this guy is or whether or not he speaks to her like that when he’s well-rested and content, but I don’t imagine it’s the kind of conversation she wants someone like me to overhear.
“You need to go,” I say. “I’m really sorry I bothered you. I just ... Well, thank you. For talking things through with me.”
I don’t know what to expect next. More yelling on other end of the line? Dr. Bell giving me an award-worthy pep talk about believing in my daughter no matter how bleak her prognosis looks?
She sighs and keeps her voice down the same way Jake and I used to hush ourselves up whenever Patricia was around. “Listen. You need to do what you think is best. No one else can tell you what that is. You’re Natalie’s mom. You’re going to make the right decision.”
I want to thank her, but I’ve lost my voice. By the time I find it again, she’s already ended the call. And none too soon. Natalie’s monitor is beeping again. Her oxygen levels have just dropped into the seventies. A minute later, the PICU doctor is in here frowning over her crib.
“Unless you tell me otherwise, it’s time for us to intubate.”