Chapter 115

Hyperkalemia

Hy-per-kuh-lee-mee-uh

Latin jumble to describe what happened to my son.

"It's high potassium in the blood," the doctor says, "And a common condition for patients on dialysis. Often, the patient has no symptoms, or only mild ones, but if the imbalance is severe, respiratory distress and cardiac arrest are possible."

I swallow hard. Her words stab me like a knife - “respiratory distress," "cardiac arrest,” echoing through my brain.

I can feel Kadeem’s hand on mine as panic takes hold again. He seems to notice, squeezing me a little tighter. We catch each other’s eyes for a moment and he sends me a tiny, reassuring nod.

The doctor’s stern expression gives away her caution. “I’m admitting him upstairs to the pediatric ICU for close monitoring.”

"Can she see him," Kadeem asks.

I struggle to take a breath and she leads us through the doors, into the kinetic flurry of fear and miracles that is the ER.

We step into Erbao's room. Compared to the tumult just outside his door, it’s quiet and still, all except for the insistent beat of his heart monitor. His small frame is barely visible beneath the wires and tubes connecting him to machines.

Emotion nearly doubles me over. I only have a moment to take it in before tears cloud my vision.

"He's hooked up to IV fluids,” the doctor says, “Some of which are to correct his electrolyte imbalance. You'll also notice that he is on oxygen and sedated - he might not wake up for several hours."

I long to be close, but my heart is quaking at the sight of his fragile form. I’m frozen, rooted to my spot at the foot of Erbao’s bed.

Kadeem gently steers me forward. Then he maneuvers a chair for me, positioning it at Erbao’s bedside.

“Do you have any questions,” the doctor asks.

“I do,” Kadeem says, nodding over at her.

I use my shirt to wipe my eyes and nose, trying to compose myself as I do, though I’m still trembling with emotion.

Kadeem steps out with the doctor. I hear his voice as he speaks to her out in the hallway, but I can’t make out what they're saying.

Fearful, yet determined, I reach out to caress Erbao’s cheek.

When they move him up to the ICU floor, Kadeem helps me navigate the maze-like hospital corridors.

He doesn’t say much. He’s attentive in his care for me, but at the same time, he seems so very far away - his thoughts somewhere else and all of his own emotions contained.

It's just after 6:30 AM, and the hospital won't let families, including parents, visit until 8, so we find a spot on a small couch in the ICU lobby, facing a set of large windows. The sky outside is changing from gray to an orange and pink hue.

"Lay down and try to get some sleep," Kadeem says.

I do lay my head in his lap, and I close my eyes, but fail to get anywhere remotely close to sleep, and quickly give up.

Kadeem looks down and notices my eyes have reopened.

"Do you need anything,” he asks.

I'm sure he means breakfast or a bottle of water from the vending machine, but I could care less about eating or drinking.

Besides my anxious desire to see Erbao, an inconvenient truth is starting to gnaw at me.

I sit up, though I immediately cast my eyes away from him. "I do need help with something," I say, "But I'm embarrassed to ask."

"Ardal, it’s me you're talking to."

My heart flutters at the sound of my name on his tongue. I stare down at my hands. "If I tell Hannah I'm... struggling for money," I sputter.

I hate to admit this aloud to anyone. I twist the hem of my shirt and start again.

"She'd never expect a dime from me for keeping the kids right now, but I’d feel awful not paying her, Kadeem, and -"

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "It's okay. I'll take care of it. What else?"

I feel my cheeks burn with mortification and I still can't meet his eyes.

"Just getting some of my clothes up here and a toothbrush," I say quietly.

"Okay," he says, "We'll work on that. That leads me to my next question. Do you want me to stay with you? Or maybe you want Julia here, or maybe to be alone, or-"

"Deem?"

"Yeah?” He's fixed on me with an anguished gaze. He looks weary and he runs his hand across his forehead like a desperate attempt to push away a headache.

"He's your son, too."

And I think the emotion of it hits him - that he's not an outsider or a bystander anymore; that he’s not unwanted, or a secret, or someone to keep at arm’s length.

It's in this moment, watching him, that I understand, finally, the wrong I have done.

I want to say I'm sorry, but right now his head is down, and his eyes are glassy with tears. It's too late for sorry.

Kadeem runs his hands through his hair, then looks back up at me, wordless. He breaks into a broken smile. "Thanks."

A nod is all I can manage in return.

He slouches back against the sofa, sighing softly. "And what about me and you? What are we doing, kid?"

The elevator doors slide open and a woman in corporate attire marches out. Her heels click across the floor as she strides past us.

I shake my head. "Hell if I know."

Kadeem shifts closer. "This may come as no shock," he says, "But I'd settle for some more time with the kids - whatever that looks like - and hitting the sheets with you again a time or two."

"That could probably be arranged." I meet his eyes. "A time or two."

Kadeem gives me a soft smile and looks down at his watch. "Let's get something to eat in the cafeteria and some caffeine too - it's going to be a long day."

I look down at my disheveled state - the wrinkled, vomit-stained shirt. "You don't think I'm a little too-"

"Who cares," he interrupts. "Joan Rivers isn't down there."

I hesitate, glancing at the sunrise in the windows. There’s plenty of time till visiting hours, but fear still lingers in my heart. "What if-"

"Ardal," he says, "Starvation will do Erbao no good. You're not doing anyone any favors there. And I know how you get,” he adds. His brow creases in worry.

I bite my lip, feeling caught. It was almost nicer when Kadeem couldn't call me on all my past behaviors, but he’s right. I haven’t always had the best track record of self-care.

"Fine," I grumble, suppressing an eye roll as we stand and make our way to the elevators.

He presses the "down button" and side-eyes me. "You're already regretting your decision to let me stay," he teases.

"Absolutely,” I say, letting out a weak laugh. I turn to face him and my voice softens, "But boy, will Erbao be happy to see his dad when he opens his eyes."

Kadeem clears his throat, expression unreadable.

The elevator door chimes as it opens. We step inside and Kadeem pushes for the first floor. He leans back against the wall, his arms crossed, and a tentative smile comes over his face. I lean against the opposing wall and shoot him a smile in return.

The circumstances are grim. I can’t pretend like they’re not. It creates a weight I feel like an anvil.

On top of it, I still can't shake that hollow, restless feeling that's been shadowing me since our return to Red Moon this summer.

But just maybe, I think... Maybe we're finally moving out of the woods.