The elevator stops on every floor. We go up, down and up again. I check the time. It's already eight o'clock. I hope Ms Atkins hasn't been in to see Millie yet. Romina said she usually sees her patients first thing in the morning.
Finally, we stop on the second floor. I walk out with a small luggage full of stuff for Millie. According to the internet, they should remove the drain and catheter today unless there are complications, and maybe stop the morphine, depending on the pain. Millie will want to have it stopped, but I'll tell her to keep it if she's still uncomfortable. There's no reason for her to suffer unnecessarily.
I practically run to her room and sigh out all the pent-up anxiety from my wretched dreams, relieved to find Millie sitting up, her back resting against two pillows and chatting cheerfully with a nurse. The nurse hands her a cup of black coffee and starts removing her drip.
"Now, as I said," she tells her. "Keep the morphine a while longer, at least until the physiotherapist comes to get you out of bed. Then take a shot and I'll remove it for you. But at least you'll be covered for the first time you get up."
The nurse notices me and smiles warmly. She's a tall, blonde, middle-aged lady with kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when she smiles. I thank her as she walks out.
I notice that the bed next to Millie's is still empty, which is a blessing considering the amount of stuff I brought with me. I also notice a pretty, clear vase holding a large bouquet of lilies, sunflowers and irises taking up all of Millie's bedside cabinet. The bunch Sosa brought yesterday was smaller and had carnations in it.
"I thought flowers weren't allowed in your room," I say curiously as I start unpacking her things.
Nanna Millie smiles mischievously. "Apparently, the risk is not that high if they're brought in by a handsome, young man."
I freeze in my tracks. To my knowledge, Millie doesn't know a lot of handsome, young men. My heart races as I force myself to continue unpacking Millie's clothes and placing them neatly in her cabinet.
"You should have seen the girls while he was here," she goes on humorously. "Six nurses and carers must have come in to make sure my IV was running okay. I think that's why Agnes removed it."
I give her a tight smile while I open her drawer and organise the items inside, adding today's newspaper, her novel and a new box of tissues.
"I'm surprised you didn't bump into each other in the corridor. It hasn't been ten minutes since he left."
"He came early," I comment shortly, not knowing what else to say.
"Yes. He couldn't stay long. He has an early meeting," she answers absent-mindedly. "I told him he doesn't have to visit every day but you know how he is. There's no convincing that man."
'No kidding!' I think to myself, trying my best to ignore the tightness in my chest. I keep myself busy, hoping that Millie doesn't notice my flushed cheeks as flashbacks from my dreams come to me in waves.
I prepare a clean towel and facecloth on her wheelie bed table together with her shower gel, deodorant and brush.
"How's the coffee?" I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me, evaluating whether I'm being serious or funny. Stifling a laugh, I take her cup and wash it in the kitchenette.
I stare at all the flowers in front of the Madonna as I dry and polish the scratched cup. Then, hearing a commotion in the corridor, I turn around just in time to see Ms Atkins and a small flock of junior doctors and medical students rush by. I hurry up and follow them to Nanna's room.
"Good morning, Millie!" she greets happily. "Wow, you look amazing! How are you feeling? Did you have a good night?"
"As good as can be expected I think," Millie answers as she tries to flatten her hair with her hands and cover herself with the sheets. She's still in her wispy hospital gown and I can tell she's uncomfortable.
"Are you in pain anywhere?"
"No, not at the moment," Millie answers. "It hurts a little when I move. Here, just around the incision."
The doctor's pleasant laugh fills the room. "A little? You are so brave, Emily!"
The flock scuttles around awkwardly to make room for her as she goes around the bed to have a look at Millie's drain and catheter.
"What do say we get these horrible things out of you this morning?" she whispers excitedly.
My grandmother's face lights up, and a five-kilogram weight is lifted off my chest.
"I say let's do it!" Millie replies enthusiastically.
"Magnificent! I'll let your nurse know. What about your PCA?" she adds, nodding at the morphine.
"Take it away!" Millie answers.
"The nurse says she should have one more dose before she gets out of bed. To help her with the pain."
They all turn towards me looking surprised, as though they've just realised I'm in the room.
"How's her blood pressure?" Marjorie demands from one of her minions.
A tall, lanky boy with very thick glasses and curly, ginger hair starts flicking nervously through Millie's file. "It was one hundred and thirty-four over seventy this morning."
"Okay, one last shot then," she replies with a wink at Millie, then she turns to the rest of them. "Right! So, continue the same treatment for today but start Clexane SC forty milligrams and I want DVT stockings put on her now. Out of bed later today. May resume a normal diet. You're not nauseated are you, Millie?" she adds as a side note while the lanky boy scribbles furiously in the file.
"Not at all," Millie answers happily.
"Catheter out. Drain out. And no COD needed today," she finishes with authority as she feels around Millie's wound. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow, dear," she says just before leaving the room, the flock scuttling after her like frantic ducklings.
I follow too.
"Ms Atkins?" I call out.
She turns around and waits for me to catch up.
"How did the procedure go? Do you think you got all of it out?" I swallow hard. "The tumour? Is it out?"
Ms Marjorie puts a hand around my shoulder and walks me a little way away from the group. Her warm eyes are fixed attentively on me.
"I removed everything, Alison. Uterus, ovaries, glands. Everything. I don't think there was any infiltration but I can't be sure before the histology results are out. And those usually take a few days. Let's focus on her recovery for now, then we'll deal with whatever we find when we find it." She gives me an encouraging smile. "There are a lot of things we can do dear. I'm not giving up on her."
I don't know what that means. But I nod and thank her anyway.
I go back to Millie's room and find the curtains closed. I call out to her and the nurse answers back. "Could you wait outside? I'm going to remove her tubes and it may take a while."
"Okay," I answer. "I'll go down for a coffee then. Do you want anything, Nann?"
"Ouch!" Millie gasps. "Your hands are freezing, Agnes."
I hear them chuckle and I breathe out.
"No, thank you, honey," Millie replies.
#
Why is it that all hospitals have bad coffee? Good coffee has to be the one thing people need most in a place like this. It should be a priority!
I look across the busy reception area. People are rushing in every direction. Buying gifts, cards and newspapers from the gift shop, checking the site map, arguing with the receptionists... It's loud. It's good. It doesn't let you focus and it doesn't let your mind dwell too far. I see Sosa coming out from the gift shop with a massive helium balloon tied to her wrist.
"Sosa!" I call out waving an arm at her.
She looks around, squinting her eyes and flashes me with her glamourous smile when she spots me.
"Wow! You look like hell!" she says taking a seat next to me.
"Thanks," I reply bitterly.
"Heq, it's true," she insists with concern in her voice. "Did you sleep here?"
I down the rest of my coffee with a grimace. "The nurses kicked me out. I didn't sleep a wink."
"Basta, you didn't want me to come with you."
"What were you going to do? Sing me a lullaby?" I reply sarcastically, Jeremy's suggestion to do the very same thing ringing in my head.
Sosa nudges me in the arm. "No, there's no point in waking up the whole alleyway just because you can't sleep."
I smile at her. "Thank you," I say gratefully. "Thank you for being here."
"Of course, Sunxajn. Anything you need."
We go back up to the room and find Millie completely tube-free, in her own clothes and sitting on the armchair. She looks pale and fragile but happy. Sosa immediately notices the flowers and eyes them viciously as she ties her balloon to the foot of Millie's bed.
"What are these flowers doing here? You could get an infection! They're going in front of the Madonna," she says gruffly as she carries them out of the room.
#
Nanna Millie gets better and stronger every day. Three days post-op and she's eating and drinking well with no toilet troubles. She's walking around the corridor on her own and doing all the exercises the physiotherapist gave her. Her wound looks clean and the nurses say it's healing well. They removed her cannula this morning because she doesn't need it anymore.
I spend most of the day with her, more for the company than anything else as she insists on doing most things herself. I just do the heavy lifting and coffee runs. Sometimes I read for her, just to kill time.
On the fourth day post-surgery, Ms Marjorie is so happy with her progress that she decides to send her home.
"You'll have your papers ready by noon so you can go right after lunch," she announces with a smile. "Set an appointment with your oncologist in two weeks' time. He'll have the histology results and we'll be able to discuss a way forward."
I pack Millie's things while she's in the shower and text Sosa to let her know we've been discharged. I stare at the bare surface of the bedside cabinet. There weren't any flowers this morning. He hasn't come yet. Maybe he's not coming. Maybe he's busy. I almost text him to tell him we'll be going home, but then I picture his cold eyes and, with a sickening feeling in my stomach, shove my phone back in my pocket.
A carer walks in with Nanna's lunch, sets it on the wheelie table and leaves without closing the door. I sigh, closing my eyes and enjoying the tingling sensation behind my eyelids. I can't wait to get home. If I looked like hell two days ago, I can't imagine what I look like now. I spent thirty minutes applying concealer under my eyes this morning to avoid being mistaken for a Tim Burton character. Maybe tonight I'll finally sleep properly, without dreams about Millie or dreams about him. One good night's sleep is all I need.
Millie walks out of the bathroom looking fresh as a daisy and settles herself gently on the armchair. I wheel the table closer to her so she can eat. And then, Sosa walks in.
"Yay, Mills, you're a champion! You're coming home!"
Her excitement makes me smile despite how tired I feel. Millie beams and nods awkwardly at her as she chews a bit of chicken several times before making a face and spitting it out into her napkin.
"So, what do you think Ally?" she says, hopping up and down next to me. "Now that Millie's coming home, will you come tonight?"
I look at her questioningly. "Where?"
She feigns an offended look. "To my Birthday Bash!"
Oh, shoot. I completely forgot it was Sosa's birthday today.
"It's okay," she assures me seeing the shame written all over my face. "I wasn't expecting you to remember. I didn't bother bringing it up because I know you had other things on your mind."
"Oh, Sosa," I exhale guiltily. "No, I should have remembered, I'm sorry!"
She huffs and rests her hand on her hips. "No, you shouldn't have! What you should do, is come with us to The Black Gold tonight!"
I look at Millie cautiously. She shrugs her shoulders and takes a stab at the boiled vegetables on her plate.
"Who's us?" I ask, already dreading the answer.
"Derek and a few other friends," Sosa chirps offhandedly. "Oh, come on! It's my birthday! You have to come. Millie will be fine, won't you Mills?"
Nanna Millie nods as she eyes the potatoes suspiciously. "Sure. I have Carmen on standby, don't worry, honey."
At that moment, Jeremy James Cordina strides into the room holding around twenty yellow roses. His face shuts down immediately as he sees me, even though his eyes don't stay on me for longer than zero point five seconds.
Jesus! What did he expect? That I wouldn't be here? Should I take a step back and leave the room as well?
I bite my tongue and look determinedly at Sosa as he places the flowers on the cabinet.
"Hi, Millie. How are we today?" he asks in a quiet voice which makes me want to bash the food tray into his face.
"Great!" she replies, reaching out for his hand. "I'm going home this afternoon."
I see his eyes shoot briefly in my direction and I can tell from the way his knuckles have gone white over the bed rails he's angry at me for not telling him.
Arrogant prick! He's the one avoiding me!
"That's wonderful! Do you need me to drive you? Or take some of your stuff to your house maybe?"
Millie looks from him to me then back to him. "I think we have everything covered, don't we Ally?"
I don't answer. I don't want to talk to him.
That's a lie. I want to talk to him so badly. I just don't want to be the one who gives in. So I just nod, looking determinedly at my nails. I feel Sosa's and Millie's eyes on me like floodlights as Jeremy clears his throat.
"Okay. What about dinner? Do you want me to bring something over?"
I cross my arms, cupping my elbows tightly. What is he doing? I thought he wanted to take a step back.
"Actually," Sosa butts in, "I have that bit covered."
"What?" the three of us say at the same time.
"When Ally messaged me to say that Millie's being discharged, I asked my mum to prepare some soup and baked rice. Issa tonight I'll bring it over, eat with you guys, and then Ally and I will go to my Birthday Bash!"
We all react at the same time.
"Ugh! There's no point in arguing this, is there?"
"Oh, how thoughtful!"
"What Birthday Bash?"
"No there isn't! It's nothing, Mills. My Birthday Bash. It's my birthday today. Yay!" Sosa answers each of us in turn.
Millie looks at me and grabs her cutlery again.
"Go! I'll be fine," she says, popping a roast potato in her mouth.
And then, for some stupid reason, I look at Jeremy. His face may be closed but there's something about the way his brows are slightly closer together that tells me he has an opinion about this.
Well, he can stuff his opinion!
"Okay, I'm in."
He raises his brows at me and I look him in the eye, daring him to say something.
"Happy Birthday, Stephanie," he replies finally with venom in his voice, not tearing his murderous eyes away from mine.