The Sick Wife, Lost Loretta [top 10 motivational books .TXT] 📗

my coffee,” he explains, pointing to his empty mug. He walks over to the coffeemaker to quickly refill his container, before leaving again.

After he exits, Veronica dissolves into giggles. “He’s got a crush on you!”

“What? Why?” I ask with confusion. “He’s known me for so long and he never seemed to care.”

“Girl… that was before you started brushing your hair. Before you discovered the wonders of eye makeup.”

“It’s just a little mascara—it doesn’t make a huge difference. I’m still me.”

“Nope. You’re different,” Veronica says. “You’re glowing.”

I guess I am.

“Okay, enough about me,” I tell my friend. “Let’s focus on Yvette. I want to show you this article I found about a patient who was on a ventilator for two months…”

Chapter 11

Extubation. It’s a complicated process. And for some reason, none of the doctors want to even talk about it, when it comes to Yvette. I’m not sure if I’m crazy to hope or try. I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know that this experience has severely harmed her body. Possibly irrevocable harm. I know that she’s going to need a ton of rehabilitation. But I really think that if we give her a chance to survive on her own, she will.

So, I decided to take a huge risk and take matters into my own hands. I know it could risk my license and my job, but I just had to try. I’ve lowered the amount of sedation Evie is under for a few days now, and I’ve been checking her scores on the Glasgow Coma Scale.

At first, nothing. No change.

She wouldn’t open her eyes at all. She wouldn’t make any noises. She couldn’t seem to hear my voice or have any response to me touching her hand. I couldn’t make sense of it. But I did some more reading, and apparently with some COVID-19 patients, there’s a weird syndrome where their body recovers somewhat, and they are even able to come off the ventilators, but they stay stuck in a coma.

I am starting to fear that even if I can get her off the machine, and remove the breathing tube… she may remain unconscious. It’s terrifying to imagine but I keep trying. I use my own judgment and experience, and go against the recommendations of the doctors, for possibly the first time in my career.

“Come on, Evie,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Give me something. You need to fight. I’ve done all I can to help you. The doctors are giving up. You need to help yourself. Please.”

No response. Nothing.

“Don’t you ever want to see Gabe again?” I ask her. “What about your parents? You have people who care about you. They want you to go home.”

Is it just my imagination, or is there a flicker of motion in her eyes?

“What about Sexy Babe?” I ask her, picking up her phone, and using her finger to unlock it. “I’ll text him right now and try to set up a hot date for you. Okay, it may be a while before you’re in any condition to enjoy a hot date… but let’s see if he’s interested, right?”

Again, I see some motion in her eyes. “I’m texting him right now,” I tell her, while slowly reading out the words I write. “Hey, Sexy Babe. What are you doing next week? I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather, but I would love to catch up and grab drinks as soon as possible!”

I think I see a twitch in her fingers—I think maybe I’m annoying her back into consciousness.

“How does that sound? A bit too eager? I mean, you’re the expert. You could always wake up and tell me how to properly sext your boyfriend, so I don’t screw it up.” I tell her. My finger slips, and I accidentally send the text. Whoops. Oh well, maybe it’s a good thing.

Maybe it’s a good thing for me, also, if some incredibly hot guy comes to see her when she wakes up, holding a bouquet of roses. I stare at the phone, hoping he will message back, but there is nothing. That’s disappointing.

“Okay, Evie, it’s time for some real talk,” I say quietly. I’m a little scared to speak openly about my relationship with Gabriel now that she’s not under such heavy sedation, but I think it just might do the trick. “If you don’t wake up right now, Sleeping Beauty, some lucky girl is going to steal your prince. I’m not saying who, exactly. But Gabriel is really handsome, rich, charming, sweet—are you really just going to lie down and die, and let him be stolen away without a fight?”

She makes a noise. Just a low, groggy moan. But this time it’s for real. I see it and hear it. She’s trying to speak. She’s trying to respond to me. I squeeze her hand, and I’m almost sure that I feel her retuning the pressure.

My heart soars.

I quickly grab my phone and text Veronica. Get over here now! I think she’s waking up.

Then I realize I’m still using Yvette’s phone case. I don’t know why I ever borrowed it, but I don’t need it any longer. I remove the silver protector, and place it back on her phone where it belongs. That ventilator might have been the only thing keeping her alive this whole time—but my cell phone was the only thing keeping me alive.

I somehow feel strong enough to breathe on my own, and stand on my own two feet—and I want the same for her.

“You’re going to be okay, Evie. You’re going to recover from this—you’re going to be amazing. I promise.”

When the door to her hospital room flies open, I turn with a smile, expecting to see Veronica.

It’s Doctor Mike. “What are you doing?” he sighs with annoyance. “More nail polish? I told you that she’s not going to wake up.”

“No, she is. You don’t understand. Her GSC is improving. She’s making noises and she squeezed my hand.”

The doctor moves forward to examine the