“Her bag?” the nurse asked.
“She’s a midwife. I left the syringes behind, but threw the empty vials in the bag. The OB’s wife, a nurse, talked me through it.”
The nurse relayed that to the pilot and after a minute the pilot shouted back that he’d been radioed a second order for Methergine and the nurse plucked the ampoule out of their supply, drew the syringe and pushed it into the IV. Another few minutes passed; Mel opened her eyes, looked at Jack and mouthed, “I love you, Jack.”
He put his lips by her ear. “Melinda, you are my life. You are my whole life, baby. You stay with me. John’s at the hospital, honey. We’re going to the hospital. You hang on. You’re going to be all right.”
Jack heard the pilot radio the hospital that they were inbound and relayed that there was an OR team and anesthesiologist standing by. The nurse pulled back the blanket to gently part Mel’s legs and look at the bleeding. “I think we’re gonna make it,” she said. Then she said softly, “Dear God, let us make it.”
If Jack weren’t so terrified, he’d be impressed by how fast the team could move. When they touched down, the nurse and EMTs on board had that gurney out of the chopper so fast they almost knocked Jack out of the way. Waiting for them were emergency nurses and a doctor. They ran into the hospital where someone was standing at the elevator, holding the door open. Jack stayed with them, but he was stopped as they flew into the surgery.
Jack stood outside the doors, staring. He had no idea what to do, but he wasn’t leaving her. He couldn’t even sit down. His heart was pounding, he was sweating, hyperventilating, dying inside. He’d faced his own death with more calm than this.
Five or ten minutes passed before a nurse came out to talk to him. “Mr. Sheridan, she has a uterine hemorrhage and has lost a lot of blood. Dr. Stone took her immediately into surgery to try to stop the bleeding. It’s possible he’ll have to do a hysterectomy. It’s going to be a while before we’ll have anything more to tell you.”
“She’s going to make it, right?”
“Her situation is life threatening, Mr. Sheridan. But Dr. Stone is very, very good. He’s being assisted by Dr. Larson, an excellent surgeon.”
“Yeah,” he said, running a hand over the top of his head. “God.” Confused and terrified, he turned around in a complete circle twice. Then to the nurse he said, “I’m going to the chapel, but I’ll be right back.”
Jack made one phone call, to Brie. Then he found the chapel and though he had no idea what good it did, he lit a bunch of candles. His shaking hand made the light flicker so much he almost couldn’t make contact. He didn’t even have a wallet with him to leave money in the box but he was thinking, If she lives, I’ll write this hospital a check for a million dollars. Then he went into the second pew, got on his knees, leaned his elbows on the pew in front of him and prayed.
God, I know you’re sick of hearing me beg, but this is my woman, my wife. My best friend! No, she’s so much more than that—she’s the other half of my heart. I’ve waited my whole life for her—I’d give my life a hundred times to keep her safe! A thousand times! She’s every breath I take, every single beat of my heart. I don’t think I can live without her now. Not now… Please, God. Please. Oh God, please…
A half hour later he was back upstairs, sitting outside the surgery. He saw the second hand pass through every minute for two hours before John finally came out of surgery. Jack stood up.
“We made it in time, Jack—we got so lucky. We had a helicopter in flight, not far from you—a miracle in itself. She got critical drugs in time, thanks to you digging through her bag. But, Jack—I wasn’t able to save her uterus. I’m sorry. I know you wanted more children.”
Jack fell into the chair, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His shoulders shook briefly as relief poured out of him, and when he looked back up at John, tears ran down his stubbled cheek and he said, “Man, the uterus doesn’t mean anything. I can’t live without her.”
John put a strong hand on his shoulder. “You have many years with her left to you, my friend.”
“God, thank you. Thank you, John.”
“You and Susan made a good team, then putting that baby to the breast to nurse,” John said, shaking his head in wonder.
“It wasn’t the baby,” Jack said weakly, wondering if his legs would ever hold him upright again. Remembering his fear that his last memory of his beloved wife would be taking her milk as he tried anything to keep her alive. “Emma wouldn’t nurse. I did it.”