Beautifully Knight (Jordan Knight Fanfic, Liadan #5)

Choices and Cayennes

-NATE-

"So everything here in this first stack are the routine forms for insurance and medical record purposes. You just need to initial where the flags are and then sign at the bottom where it's highlighted. It's pretty straightforward, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask, I'm happy to go over them with you."

"And the second stack?"

"The second stack has all of the details of Matthew's treatment plan explained in simple terms as well as care instructions for after-surgery that includes a form for the two of you to make any requests for how you would like for him to be managed in the case of any complications. The doctors do not anticipate that anything like that will arise, but it's always best to plan ahead for worst-case-scenarios where something like a DNR may be needed. I think you said your father discussed that with you?"

"Yes, um, he did. He's a surgeon. My mom's a nurse. My sister's a nurse practitioner. They all talked to me about it, but my husband wasn't here yet and I didn't want to decide anything without him. I don't like thinking about the possibility of Mattie needing to be resuscitated again or anything like that—he's already gone through so much, but I don't want him to suffer either. I just want to make the best choice. I-I don't know what that is. What's the standard protocol? I was hoping maybe you could give us both more insights on it? As a more neutral party? My family's trying to be neutral, but they can't. We all love him. He's a very loved little boy. I don't know how this happened. One minute he was fine. Perfectly fine. And then the next—we aren't neglectful parents. It all just happened so fast. So, so fast."

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Knight. It's not anyone's fault. Accidents happen. I'm here as a patient advocate to help guide you through all of this because I certainly know how difficult and hard it is to navigate the process, even if you have family members with knowledge. It's always different when it's personal. Ultimately, all of your choices are up to you, but I can absolutely walk you through what a standard do-not-resuscitate order would entail and what your alternatives are."

"Th-thank you."

"Of course, Mrs. Knight. Before I pull up those resources on my laptop here, do you have any additional questions for me, Mr. Knight?"

My vision blurred as my eyes fixated on the dozens of photographs tucked underneath the glass topper on my father-in-law's desk. Some of them were photos of the many patients he'd saved during his long career as a pediatric surgeon, but most were from his prolific collection of family candid shots.

Photography was near and dear to Red's heart and he made it a point to ensure that he had photos of everyone he loved in just about every stage of their life—even the ones he hadn't had the opportunity to partake in. He said pictures were a gift that kept on giving—they transcended time and place—and he shared them with everybody he met.

Nestled in with childhood snapshots of Michelle and Caroline, each and every one of my children's smiling faces were also on display. Sometimes they were alone. Sometimes they were laughing with aunts and uncles. Or playing with cousins and friends. Sometimes they were nestled in their grandparents' arms. Or snuggling in Michelle's hugs or mine. But always were smiling and laughing.

The love that surrounded them and our family was evident.

They were worry-free. Safe. Full of life. And I couldn't imagine them any other way.

Yet, here I was, sitting across from a social worker who had a stack of papers waiting for me to sign and give instructions to doctors on what to do "just in case" my son didn't wake up.

I couldn't comprehend that and I didn't want to.

Today was supposed to be a good day.

After months of rejections and self-doubt and questioning whether I was truly capable of starting a business, I'd finally found an investor who was actually willing to sit down and hear me out. It was such a small thing, but somehow it felt like the weight of the world had lifted off of my shoulders when Sarah had enthusiastically clicked through my powerpoint slideshow and shared all of her ideas on ways to even expand beyond my wildest dreams of what Crescendo could be. Rather than walking out of her office defeated in under an hour like I'd done at so many other investment firms that I'd lost count, our conversation had carried on and on until I'd completely lost track of time. It was only when our stomachs had started to audibly rumble that we'd decided to transition our talks from her office to a mom and pop cafe that one of her friends owned in a little town just outside of the city. We'd talked the whole drive there in my batmobile and in the midst of munching on farm-to-table fresh produce and turkey sandwiches, the ideas had continued to roll. Together, we'd started an ambitious draft of a business plan that formulated with unbelievable ease.