After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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It is nearly three in the morning when a doctor finally comes to update us on Haven's condition.
I have been holed up in the waiting room with my mother and Haven's family for hours. My mother and Tyler fall in and out of sleep, curled up in uncomfortable chairs. Mr. Hartley paces the waiting room. Only Mrs. Hartley and I seem to be unable to find rest. We don't really speak as the minutes tick by, though we seem to share the same sort of understanding.
I shake my mother awake when the doctor approaches. Mrs. Hartley does the same to Tyler. Both rise groggily, rubbing at their eyes and looking up expectantly. Mr. Hartley shifts where he stands leaning against the wall, his expression stoic and serious.
The doctor speaks as precisely as the edges of her dark hair have been cut to her chin. "The surgery is completed. Haven is now resting. We're going to request a few hours to give her some time to heal and for the anesthesia to wear off before we allow any visitors."
When she does not elaborate, Mrs. Hartley does not hesitate with an interrogation.
"Well, how did it go?" she questions frantically, rightfully seeking more reassurance. "Is she doing okay? Is she going to–"
"The surgery went very smoothly," the doctor interrupts. Her smile is wide and white, plastered across her face too forcefully. "There were no complications. Haven has not yet regained consciousness, though we believe this is just due to the anesthesia. We're sure she'll wake in a matter of time."
Mrs. Hartley blinks. She does not open her eyes. Instead, they remain squeezed closed tightly, as if she is in disbelief. When she speaks, her hands are in rhythm with her lips. "Wait . . . I'm sorry? You think she isn't awake because of the anesthesia?"
The doctor purses her lips tightly. "Anesthesia is very strong and can take a matter of hours, even up to a full day, for effects to fully wear off. We aren't concerned that she has not yet regained consciousness. Unfortunately, now is just a matter of . . . waiting. Family will be allowed to visit whenever she does wake."
I shake my head at this news, baffled. "Wait . . . only family will be allowed to see her?"
The doctor turns to face me then. Her dark eyes regard me with pity. "I'm sorry, dear. Hospital rules state only immediate family are allowed to see guests, and for now only one guest at a time will be allowed in a room."
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. I know it is selfish of me to be so upset about this fact–of course Haven's family deserves to see her, after all they have gone through. But the thought of having to be kept from her for longer kills me.
I nod in understanding and slump low in my seat.
"But the surgery went well?" Mrs. Hartley questions once more softly. "Our girl . . . she's going to be okay?"
The doctor's smile is genuine as she nods. I physically witness all of our bodies deflate with relief.
"We haven't run into any complications or problems as of now, nor during surgery. If anything is to change, of course we will let you know right away. But for now, Haven is just going to rest and we'll bring you any updates we can. You're welcome to go home for the night or stay here in the waiting room. I'll keep in contact."
