Love Never Wanted Me

22

"Hey, Brendon, it's Delilah. Um, listen, I was wondering if... uh, no, let me start again. Um, I know it's late and you've probably got work tomorrow morning, but it's... it's Patrick. He's in the hospital and he's sick. Of course, you know that, but I mean he's really sick. I... I think this might be it, you know? God, I don't know if he's going to... Sorry, this message must sound so ridiculous. Look, um, if you could come down, I would really appreciate it. Rose is with me and... well, she doesn't need to see this. Just, um, just call me back. Thanks."

I quickly end my rambling voicemail and stuff my phone back in my pocket. Letting out a heavy sigh, I lean back against the wall of the waiting room and close my eyes. I rub my hands over my face, allowing all of my emotions to just wash over me. God, I'm all mixed up right now. I don't know if I should cry my eyes out or stay as strong as possible. I should be staying strong, right? For Rose, and for my unborn child. I need to be their mom; I need to be the one who is strong for them.

God, this shouldn't be happening. We're not supposed to be here. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not yet at least. We should still have time.

He should still have time.

It all happened so quickly. One moment, we're holding each other and kissing like it's any other day, then the next he's in pain and convulsing on the floor. He was so pale and that awful, choking noise he was making. This wasn't like his previous seizure; no, this was much worse. Patrick looked so weak and so small, laying there on the floor. God, I'll never forget that sight, even though I wish with all my heart that I could.

I had immediately called 911 (thank God my phone was right there) and then held him in my arms as we waited for the ambulance. He eventually stopped seizing, but that only lead to Patrick throwing up all over himself. It got all over the carpet and the front of his shirt. A bit of it got on me, but I didn't care. Vomit on my clothes was the least of my worries at that moment.

His eyes rolled back into his head and I could feel his body begin to go completely lax in my arms. I tried calling out his name, tapping his cheek, anything at all to get some kind of a rouse out of him. He was completely unresponsive.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Rose come back into the living room. I tried to tell her to stay away, but she just ran right to my side. She wrapped her arms around me, hugging me as tightly as possible. Even though, I didn't want her to see Patrick like this, I was immensely grateful for her comfort.

When the EMTs finally arrived, I swooped Rose up into my arms and backed away to let them do their work. I held onto Rose as tightly as possible, keeping her head on my shoulder, while the EMTs worked on Patrick. I watched them hook up various IVS and monitors to his arms. They spoke so quickly and there was a lot of medical jargon being thrown around. Normally, I'd be able to keep up, but my mind was all over the place. I just wanted them to tell me that Patrick was going to be okay.

They loaded Patrick onto a stretcher and set up a breathing bag right over his face. As they carried him out to the ambulance, one of the EMTs told me to follow them to Chicago Medical. She asked if I needed directions, but I quickly told her no. We've been there so much; it's basically our second home. Still holding Rose in my arms, I grabbed my phone from where I discarded it on the floor and then snatched the car keys from their hook by the door. Adjusting Rose onto my hip, I bolted out of the house and to the car.

The drive was a complete blur to me. I'm honestly surprised that I didn't get into an accident. My mind wasn't at all focused on the road; I was just worried about Patrick. What was happening in the ambulance? Was he breathing? Was he waking up? Was he seizing again? God, I hated not knowing.

We reached the hospital just as the ambulance was pulling up to the ER. I watched in a sort of daze as they unloaded Patrick and wheeled him inside. His arms were hanging loosely at his sides and he looked even paler than before. My heart plummeted to my stomach; All I could think of was 'Don't be dead. Please don't be dead.'