"Iris, can you find daddy?" Arwen asked with his brown eyes squinting up at me. His face was bruising quickly due to his blood condition and his voice cracked as tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Of course little man, I'm going to ask the nurse if we can see him okay?" I give him a kiss on the top of his head and head out of the room to the nurses station.
The nurse who has updated me about dad was checking her charts and looked up after a few moments.
"I will check and see if he's able to see you tonight love." I was surprised she knew that I was going to ask her before I even uttered the words. She reached for the multi-line phone and pressed a few buttons to call the ICU.
She started writing down pertinent information about directions to get to my dad's room and visiting hours.
She handed me the sticky note that she had written on. Standing up she pointed to a few things that I needed to know. Specifically what elevator banks to take and what left and right turn was going to get me there.
Rachel, who was the nurse who was going to be on shift when I got back from visiting dad, was going to be looking after Arwen overnight.
Tina also gave me the name of the ICU nurse who was on shift for the evening. It was Tammy, she was going to be wearing blue scrubs with ice cream cones and her hair in a messy bun.
I tucked the sticky note into my pocket and forced a small smile. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice not quite steady.
She nodded, her expression softening. "Go ahead, love. Your dad's waiting."
I didn't waste any more time. My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way to the elevators, following the path she had mapped out for me. The hallways seemed to blur as I moved, each turn blending into the next as my anxiety took over. My mind raced with questions, fears, worst-case scenarios.
I reached the elevator bank, stabbing at the button repeatedly until the doors slid open with a ding.
Stepping inside, I pressed the floor for the ICU and leaned back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing. But nothing about this moment felt steady. The walls seemed to close in as the elevator ascended, the quiet hum filling the small space.
The image of my dad kept flashing in my mind—the way I had seen him just hours before the accident. Strong, steady, always in control. He had promised Arwen he'd be okay. Promised me.
When the elevator doors finally opened, I was met with a long hallway of closed doors, each leading to a private room in the ICU. I clutched the sticky note tighter, glancing at the directions again as I made my way toward the nurse's station.
There, standing by the counter, was a woman in blue scrubs, ice cream cones dotting the fabric, just like the nurse had described. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she looked up as I approached.
"Tammy?" I asked, my voice wavering slightly.
She gave me a warm, understanding smile. "That's me. You must be Iris."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Is my dad…?"
"He's stable," she said quickly, as if she knew that was the first thing I needed to hear. "He's still unconscious, but he's holding on."
I released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, though it did little to ease the tightness in my chest. "Can I see him?"
"Of course," she said gently, gesturing down the hall. "His room is just down here."
I followed her, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. Each step was slower than the last, my heart hammering in my chest. I wasn't sure what I would see when I stepped into that room, wasn't sure if I could handle it. But I had to. For Arwen. For Dad.
Tammy stopped outside the room, turning to me with that same soft expression. "Take your time. If you need anything, I'll be just outside."
I nodded, and with a deep breath, I stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, a few machines quietly beeping in the background. And there, lying in the bed, was my father. Pale, bruised, hooked up to wires and tubes. His chest rose and fell steadily, but it was nothing like the strong, invincible man I'd always known him to be.
I swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I stepped closer to his bedside. "Dad…" I whispered, barely audible.
He didn't stir, didn't move, but I reached for his hand anyway. His skin was cold to the touch, and I fought back a sob as I held it gently, squeezing his fingers.
"We need you, Dad," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Please… come back to us."
But the only response was the steady beep of the heart monitor, and the sound of my own shaky breath.