Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Everything I usually have on my plate has been dispersed, and while I won’t be teaching any classes for the time being, I should be able to work the front desk, catch up on piles of paperwork, and batch social media content. Maybe I’ll even get ahead, because as it stands right now, I’m barely skating by in the administration department at the studio.
I’m currently checked in at the hospital, which is nice and conveniently located at my doctor’s office, a separate wing from his attached office, and from what Lennie says, this makes it easy for Doctor Gallo and Doctor Camden to perform surgeries like today. They also deliver babies and make their rounds later in the day or if one isn’t on call, the other will.
Mom and Dad would be in here as well, except I kicked them out to change and told them to go eat since they didn’t before they picked me up from my house this morning. I’d have much rather driven myself, but my instructions firmly stated to have a ride to and from the procedure. My father, the man he is, will more than likely deny my wishes to drive me to my follow-up appointment in a few days, too.
It’s a fight I won’t have. I’ve learned in life that he’s the strong and steady one, until one of his girls goes down. Coralynn broke her collarbone in high school, a hazard from being a flyer on the cheerleading team. Dad wouldn’t leave her side, driving on two wheels into the hospital parking lot then running into the emergency room, where he demanded he be the one who accompanies her to get X-rays. Mom and I sat by, allowing him to do his thing, waiting our turn to dote on my sister.
When Mom comes down with a cold, he’s the exact same way but only leaves for work, and still, he’ll call her nineteen times a day. She acts bothered, but we all know she secretly loves it. He’ll even call his children in to ask for help—picking up soup, grabbing medicine, and to sit with her until he gets home. He’s the man who’s built rock solid, taller than all of the women in his life by a head and shoulders. Dad is also a gentle giant, the one you least expect to have a soft spot, yet he does for the ones he loves. Zane is the exact same way as my father now that he’s older and has children of his own.
Fast forward to today, well, actually two weeks ago when I delivered the news to my parents first. I told my sister when she came home from vacation and my brother via a telephone call. Well, Dad tried his hardest to get me back home, demanded I quit working and rest. Literally, I was sitting on the couch in the living room while we were talking, when he popped right out of the chair, found a foot rest, and propped my feet up. I was also given the riot act for not telling him about my menstrual cycle and having all the complications I kept to the women folk in my family. Needless to say, dear old dad wasn’t too pleased. He didn’t raise his voice in any capacity. He took my hand in his, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and held on to me for a good long while.
He only allowed me to leave later that day after feeding me grilled chicken wings, salad, and French fries, a favorite meal of mine, which Mom followed up with warm brownies, including a generous serving of vanilla ice cream on top. The button on my pants was threatening to pop off from all the food. Dad then proceeded to offer to drive me home at least ten times and was only okay with me driving myself when I promised to call as soon as I walked in the door.
I did as promised. The phone call once I got home also meant Mom and I got to talking, and she admitted that Dad had to step into the other room when I left. He later came out with red-rimmed eyes and walked through the house straight to the garage to tinker the entire time we talked. He was still out there when we hung up, and I proceeded to have a big fat crying jag, completely unable to handle my father breaking down.
“Whoa, how did you manage to get a room to yourself?” Coralynn asks, not bothering to knock, just walking in like she owns the joint.
“Pretty sure this is the norm. There’s no bathroom in here.” I shrug my shoulders, except now I’m worried that if they keep me overnight, there’s the potential of having a roommate.
“Not that. This is just a pre-op room. Duh. I mean, where are the parentals?” My sister is in attire fit for the studio—an oversized beige sweat shirt with LITHE emblazoned on her chest, the collar cut off in order for it to hang off one shoulder, what looks like a black exercise tank or sports bra underneath, maroon leggings, white socks that are scrunched around her ankles, and sneakers.