The Prince and the Plant Whisperer

Hospital Days That Pass in a Haze

[~Posted 7/11/21]

Kai spent the next week in a haze of panic, at the hospital. She was laser focused.

MRIs, ultrasounds, surgery. Doctor's checkups, nurses visits, Nina unresponsive.

Trips over to Mt. Airy nursery, to help Nina's main employee, Jose. In the shaded side-room of the greenhouse, Kai re-potted a row of growing elephant-ear plants while Jose ran the cash register up front.

Exhaustion. Waking up with an aching jaw—she was grinding her teeth at night. Acting like no one else would disappear, if she just bit down hard enough at all times.

Why does every single person I love—have to be whisked away to the other world. Kai sat up howling into the darkness of her hotel room, before remembering where she was and calming herself down. Reminding herself not to wake up the other patrons at the hotel.

Then morning came.

Dry-eyed, determined. Back to the hospital. More MRIs.

Nina's eyelids fluttered.

More check-ups. A kind nurse who showed Kai where the vending machines were for late-night snacks.

A mean nurse who insisted that Kai needed to go home.

A kind nurse who gave Kai the IV drip, and a book to read.

More surgery.

Back to Mt. Airy, where Kai watered a row of oxalis shamrocks, while Jose wrapped a parlour-palm tree going home with its new owner.

"How's Nina doing?" Jose asked.

"Honestly? I don't know," Kai responded.

Back to the hospital.

A week turned to two weeks. Procedures started turning into physical therapy.

. . * * * * . . . . . .
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. . . . . . * * * * . .

Then Nina started talking, in a croaky voice, through half her mouth. "My— gl— asses?!"

Kai searched through the plastic bag of things that an EMT had gathered for Nina, and fished out Nina's glasses.

Then: "My— phone?"

They couldn't find Nina's phone.

"I'll call it," said Kai.

That was when Kai opened her own phone to find a message from Lilly: Call me!

Kai called her roommate.

"Are you OK? Is Nina OK?" Lilly asked.

Kai said, "We don't know." She couldn't hide the exhaustion in her voice. "What's up Lilly?"

"Oh—" there was a pause. "It's not a big deal," said Lilly. "I was going to ask you something. But I'll figure it out."

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. . . . * * * * . . . .
. . . . . . * * * * . .

Two weeks turned to three weeks.

A doctor came and said there was the chance that Nina had a condition that would lead to more strokes.

He put her on experimental medicine, and said there'd be more surgery.

Then when the doctor left the room, Nina grabbed Kai's wrist.

There was still potting soil under the elderly woman's fingernails. The ambulance workers must have taken her straight from the nursery to the hospital.

Nina spoke: "If— when— I— am— gone.  You— finish— our— Lord— Baltamo— bring— to— the— world—"

Maybe if Kai spoke quickly, Nina wouldn't see Kai's tears falling onto the crisp white hospital sheets.

Kai said: "I promise. I'll finish your Lord Baltimore cultivar and bring it to the International Hibiscus Society. And all the conventions."

Nina croaked, "It's gotta— do— OK— in— pH— of— standard— and—"

"Yeah," said Kai. "I'll test it in all the standard soils. And hardy enough for transport, hardy in zones 4 through 9, usual pest resistance."

Kai had already learned everything from Nina.

It was Nina's last, most important legacy—this cultivar.

"Nina." Kai took the old woman's leathery hand in her own, and did not mince her words. "The Hibiscus Lady Nina Araki—she's going to change everything."

Nina hadn't named her new cultivar yet, but Kai spoke like the name had been settled:

The Hibiscus Lady Nina Araki.

"Just—" Nina responded slowly and sternly, mashing her lips together a few times:

"Finish— school— Kai— "

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🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱

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