Dolphin Tale 7

Chapter [1]

"How is she?"

Approximately half-an-hour after Hazel had first arrived at the hospital, Dr. Clay seemed to just materialise beside Sawyer, frightening the living daylights out of him.

"Dr. Clay—" Sawyer breathed a sigh of relief "—I don't know. They haven't told me anything at all. She was still unconscious when we arrived."

"What about your mother? Doesn't she usually work in the ER? I'm sure she'd be able to tell us something."

Sawyer shook his head. "Normally, yes, but she's been rostered to the ICU for this week." He wrung his hands over his head, turning to face the clock on the wall. Just over a minute had passed since he had last looked at it.

Dr. Clay gnashed his teeth in frustration, his hands clenching into fists as he began pacing up and down the waiting room.

"This waiting game and not knowing anything or be able to help—it's killing me!" Sawyer exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the clock, watching as the second hand wandered around the clock face at its own leisurely pace, each second drawn out to become a minute.

"Sawyer, Clay—what's going on?"

Sawyer turned, stunned to see Phoebe walking up to him quickly, looking like she had just somehow managed to battle her way through the eye of a tornado.

"Phoebe? What are you doing here?"

"I got a message from your mother," was her sharp reply, her eyes darting around the corridor like prey trying to evade its predator. "Any update on what happened to Hazel?"

"We don't know," Dr. Clay said gravely, still pacing, clenching and unclenching his hands in a steady rhythm. "They don't know, so naturally, we don't, either," he added, a touch of scathing and a hint of disbelief hidden in the undertones of his words.

"I'm sure they're doing their best," Phoebe said, though her tone was anything but reassuring.

Strenuous seconds turned into murderous minutes, and the rate at which their nerves were being chewed on, they would all soon be numb.

"Mr. Nelson?"

Immediately, Sawyer spun around, Phoebe mirroring his motions, and Dr. Clay halted in his erratic pacing, hastily returning to his son-in-law's side.

Sawyer frowned when he caught sight of a doctor he didn't recognise wearing surgical scrubs, a clipboard tucked under one arm.

"I'm Dr. Amaro. I'll be leading your wife's surgery."

There was a pregnant pause, in which Sawyer, Phoebe, and Dr. Clay simply stared at the doctor, their minds struggling to comprehend what they had just heard.

"Surgery?" Sawyer exclaimed, his bewildered and concerned expression mirrored on Dr. Clay's face. "What surgery?" He was so befuddled that he didn't even notice Dr. Amaro's outstretched hand. Phoebe shook it instead—grudgingly, it seemed.

"Yes, emergency C-section." After awkwardly withdrawing his hand, the doctor pulled the clipboard out from under his arm and gave it to Sawyer, who looked down at them, his heart racing, mind still desperately trying to get a grasp on the fact that Hazel was about to have an emergency C-section.

"She's only six months along, though—give or take!" Dr. Clay exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in a mixture of frustration and confusion. "What's wrong? Are my grandchildren going to be okay?"

"This is a critical situation, Sir," Dr. Amaro said, addressing Dr. Clay, "but we're going to do everything we can to give them both a fighting chance. Their heart rates have been dropping rapidly, and we haven't been able to stabilise them."