His Baby Girl by Rosa Mink
Chapter 11
Clint
Worry floods me as I move down the hallway to find the room Mel said in her message. My girl being in the ER without me is not acceptable. Fuck, her being in the ER period is not acceptable.
The door to the room stands open and I overhear the man state they’re going to start her on antibiotics and keep her for a few days. I move into the space, seeing Mel’s color fade, the glaze in her eyes the same as when I found her hiding in that closet and I hurry to her side, hoping to calm her. That’s my main concern right now, calming her down, so this panic attack doesn’t make things worse.
“Does this happen often?” the douchebag with a stethoscope states, as I finally get Mel to lay back on the bed. “Panic attacks in response to learning about her medical issues?”
“Dr. Tyler, a word please,” another man says from the doorway. His coat states that he’s from pulmonology compared to the emergency department the douche wears and I’d much prefer to hear what he has to say than the ER doc.
“Are you okay, baby?” I ask when the two leave the room. “Why didn’t you call before you came in?”
“I knew you were in that meeting, and I didn’t want to interrupt you. It was important.”
“There is nothing more important to me than you, baby girl, nothing. What did he say that upset you so much?” I add, brushing the hair from her face where it clings to the dampness from her sweat.
“I can’t…can’t stay here,” she says, and I nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Please…”
“If you don’t want to stay, he can’t make you, Mel. I’ll get a second and third opinion if I have to, but I won’t let them do anything you don’t want.”
“Dr. Bradley is my pulmonologist. I want him,” she says, tears in her eyes and I nod, pressing another kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll make sure they call him. I’ll go tell them right now,” I promise, covering her up better before I move out into the hallway, following the sound of voices until I reach a second desk area where the douche and the other man now stand arguing.
“Excuse me,” I state to the nurse there who lifts her head my way, “Mel, Melanie Wilson would like someone to call her doctor. A Dr. Bradley…”
“That’s me,” the second man arguing states giving the douche a last look. “I told you not to overstep on my patient’s orders,” he adds to the guy. “Now that she’s specifically requested me, you’re done. Don’t ever assume that you know what’s best for a patient just by looking at their medical chart. What you see there is just the physical symptoms, episodes she’s had. It speaks nothing to her mental status and what’s best for her. If you had bothered to check the patient’s notes, you would have known not to bring up hospitalization for anything pulmonary related without speaking to me.”
“Donna, I want a psych eval on the patient in room 112. She clearly does not have the capacity to make the best medical decisions for herself,” the douche states and my fury hits the roof. This bastard thinks he knows better than her regular doctor, than Mel? Fuck that.
“You bring one psychiatrist near her, and I will sue you and this entire hospital,” I warn before Dr. Bradley can begin to respond. “Do you know anything about Mel? What she’s been through? No. So don’t you dare think that she can’t make decisions for her own medical care.”
“The patient was brought here from the Archer Rehab Facility, she clearly has issues, and I won’t allow her to harm herself or her child,” the douche returns, stopping me cold.
“The patient, Mel,” Dr. Bradley says as the other’s words roll through my head.
Mel was at the rehab clinic? Child? My girl is pregnant. My girl is pregnant and went to see Jenna, ending up with an asthma attack.
“Suffers from PTSD related to a hospitalization when she was fourteen. She was nearly killed when someone choked her out, resulting in her throat swelling so severely that she couldn’t speak for over a week, had a tube down her throat to help her breathe easier. Coming to in a hospital room where a doctor did little to nothing to help her because he believed her addict mother who attempted to turn the incident around and make it Mel’s fault. The police quickly figured out what really happened, but they hounded her for a week determined to get her statement so they could wrap it up.
“And when she finally was able to speak, the officer that questioned her, was not brought up to speed on the rest of the investigation and was still under the assumption that she was the culprit. That the man that choked her did it accidentally while trying to subdue her as she began to become combative while suffering withdrawal and her parents refused to give her any more drugs,” Dr. Bradley adds, making my heart tighten.
Mel hadn’t told me about that but it’s no wonder she doesn’t want to be in here any longer than necessary. I can only imagine what just being in one of these rooms is doing to her.
“She has no good associations with stays or visits to a hospital. Every time she was in the ER as a child was for an asthma attack, or when her father coded and died in front of her. Add in a hospitalization from being nearly killed and now being in here has her anxiety levels through the roof to start. A mere mention of keeping her here will push her over the edge, and I can guarantee, that if he,” Dr. Bradley says nodding to me, “hadn’t stopped it, the only way to have calmed her down would have been to administer a sedative which would be highly unadvisable due to her drug allergies. If you try to interfere again, I will go to the chief of staff and file a complaint. Now step aside and let me see to my patient.”
The douche storms off and I let out a breath as Bradley turns back to the nurses. “I need a wheelchair. I’m taking my patient over to my clinic to finish treatment.”
“Of course, Doctor,” the woman says picking up a phone and I move back down to Mel’s room with the man following me.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Frank Bradley, I’ve been Mel’s pulmonologist since she moved to town.”
“Clint Lowell, I’m Mel’s…partner,” I get out not sure exactly what to call myself, but boyfriend is definitely not it.
“If it weren’t for the fact that I saw you calm Mel down from that panic attack I’d be asking a lot more questions right now,” he warns as we reach the room.
“Hey baby,” I say softly, pulling Mel’s head up relief flooding her eyes spotting me, and it grows when Frank walks in behind me. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay, baby girl.”
“One of the nurses saw that you were a patient of mine and sent over a message to Marla that you were here and diagnosed with pneumonia. I got here just a minute after Mr. Lowell after reviewing your charts. I’ve taken over and here is your ride,” he says as a woman moves into the space with a wheelchair. “We’re going to transfer over to the clinic for a breathing treatment and add some antibiotics to your iv, then get you home.”
The relief in Mel’s eyes make my heart hurt. I move to her side before anyone else can do it and lift her up, settling her into the wheelchair while Dr. Bradley keeps the iv line from tangling. The nurse puts a blanket over her lap, and I take the bag with her clothes as the doctor steers her out the door.
We move through the hallway to an elevator, taking it up several floors and it opens onto a walkway, crossing over the street below that separate the two buildings. We go down one floor before coming to a door that says Outpatient Pulmonary Clinic.
Inside, it’s looks far more like a regular doctor’s office than a hospital, and a woman clucks her tongue before opening a door for the doctor to push Mel through, into a hallway. The open rooms are nothing like the one she was in at the ER. Most don’t contain a bed or exam table, consisting mostly of cushy chairs like the one he moves us into.
“Let’s get you feeling better, huh?” Dr. Bradley says as he parks the wheelchair. The nurse moves over, taking the iv of fluids and hanging it onto a pole next to the chair.
I pick up Mel myself again, setting her down gently before moving to the seat next to hers on the opposite side of the medical equipment. No way am I leaving her side, especially not if she’s going to be having our baby, not to mention I know Jenna somehow caused her to come here in the first place. She may not have given Mel the pneumonia, but she did something and I’m going to figure out what.
“I’ll send you home with the oral version of these antibiotics, but we’re going to start with some through your iv. The results of the gram stain were normal for you, so the first one is the same you’ve had before, it’ll take few minutes, once it’s done, we’ll start the second. It’s similar in structure to what you’ve taken before, but should have some added benefits,” he adds, and Mel’s brow lifts a bit. “It will be beneficial to the results from the first test you had when you got here.”
“Oh,” Mel hums, her eyes glancing at me then away and I fight to keep the smile off my face. She really is pregnant.
“We’ll get the breathing treatment going and between the three, it should help you start feeling better fairly quickly. Now, I’m going to say this again although I know you’re familiar with it, do not stop taking the antibiotics just because you feel better. Finish all of it. I’ll schedule you for a follow-up the day after you finish. I’d like you to also do some breathing treatments over the next week to ensure that we get it all broken up and cleaned out of your lungs,” the man adds. “I’ll order everything from the pharmacy at the hospital and have it brought up. Do you still have your nebulizer?”
“It got broke by one of the others at the last place,” she tells him, and I brush my knuckle across her cheek knowing how hard that was for her to admit.
“I’ll have a new one added onto it. How are you on the rest of your medications? Have they seemed to not be working as well recently?”
“We refilled everything about five weeks ago,” I let him know. “She’d been off her regular inhaler for a week at that point.”
“Mel…”
“I know,” she says with a sigh giving me a little glare. “You don’t have to say it. This is what I get for being stupid. I’ve felt fine since I was back on it regularly until today. The attack wasn’t from the pneumonia. Someone was wearing a lot of cologne.”
“At the rehab clinic?” I state making her eyes widen in shock. I press a kiss to her forehead, squeezing her hand tighter as the first drug finishes. “That douchebag mentioned you were brought in from there thinking it was playing a part in your condition, but it wasn’t the way he was thinking, was it? What happened, Mel?”
She leans her head over against mine, taking a long breath while the doctor starts the next medication. “I hoped that Jenna would talk to me, explain what was going on with her so I could explain about us. It didn’t go well and as I was leaving, she yelled out that I had offered to sell her drugs, that they were in my bag, and I’d been selling them to her in the first place. The security guards there closed in and I…”
“Had a panic attack?” I guess and she nods.
“The guard that grabbed me was doused in cologne. The doctor realized what was happening with the asthma attack and got my rescue out, but I still couldn’t breathe until it finally stopped. They brought me here to be checked out so I couldn’t sue them if something happened.”
“Alright, let’s get this on,” Dr. Frank says, handing over the mask to Mel, his hand resting on her shoulder gently. “I’d hazard a guess that the pneumonia was kindling in your lungs for a while, but the combination of the asthma attack and your hyperventilating set it loose. We caught it early and you should be back to normal in no time.”
“Thank you,” I tell him lifting Mel’s hand to my lips once we’re alone. “I love you, baby girl. You can’t do this to me again, though. That message almost gave me a heart attack and I’m not as young as I was to handle that sort of shock.”
“Love you,” she says through the mask, her eyes a bit heavier now.
“I’m going to take good care of you, both of you,” I add, sliding my free hand to her stomach. Mel’s eyes widen and I press a kiss to her forehead, then rest mine against it. “The douche said something…I know you would have told me yourself when you were calmer. I’d have loved to learn it from you but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy about it. I tried my best that first night to breed you remember?”
I can feel her smile behind the mask, and I pull back slightly seeing the look in her eyes. A kindling fire burning there. It’s gorgeous just like her.
“This is our baby and we’re going to do it all together. If Jenna signs herself out tomorrow, I won’t begin to let her back in the house. Not even if she swears to go to therapy. Not until I know she means it, wouldn’t be a danger to you or the baby.”
Mel lifts the mask a bit, keeping it where she’ll still inhale the mist, but I can hear her talk better. “Call the clinic, Dr. Patricks will tell you about Jenna.”
“I will, after I have you home and all tucked up,” I state, holding onto her until the iv and the treatment are both done.
“Alright, there’s still a lot of congestion but it’s definitely better than before. I want you to come by Tuesday so I can see how you’re responding. Breathing treatments morning and night for the next five days. If you start feeling overly nauseous or are ill to the point where you can’t keep the oral medication down, I want to know immediately. Everything is safe to take so don’t worry, get lots of rest and lots of fluids, it’ll help doubly.”
“You don’t have to be coy. Clint figured out I’m pregnant with whatever Dr. Tyler said to him earlier,” Mel states, a smile on her lips as she looks up at me.
“Well, he was more so directing it to me because I told him I was taking over, and he wasn’t happy that I said I was sending you home. I know being in the hospital is difficult for you which is why I suggest that you look into the birthing center downstairs. We’ll be seeing more of each other to monitor your asthma during your pregnancy, and I highly recommend the doctors and midwives downstairs. The center is certified for emergencies as well so if something were to not go right, you wouldn’t have to move to the regular part of the hospital. Many of the birthing rooms are like hotel suites. You are of course free to choose differently but as your doctor, I would recommend it first.”
“We’ll look into it. I’m pretty sure I’m three weeks late now that I think about it,” Mel adds, and I can’t stop my smile from growing. A blush hits her lips seeing it and I press a kiss to her forehead before helping her get dressed to take her home.
The antibiotics and breathing treatment have her eyes drooping further and I carry her to bed, wrapping her up in a silky nightshirt before going downstairs to call the clinic. I shoot John a text to let him know that I’m home with Mel and that I may be out of the office for the next week while I wait for the nurse to get Jenna’s doctor.
“Mr. Lowell, what can I do for you?”
“Mel told me some of what happened today. She said to talk to you for the rest,” I state, telling him the bits that Mel relayed, before getting the rest of the news from him.
“With the forty-eight-hour hold, it will keep Jenna here. Until then, she’s not allowed visitors. I’m certain that you’re upset with the situation and would like to see her…”
“No, actually I don’t want to see her, and you can tell my daughter that. This is the second time that she’s deliberately put Mel in danger, third time if I count her coming at her with her fists raised. I already told my daughter that if she signed herself out, she wasn’t allowed back in my home. If you’re not aware, Mel and I are involved, romantically. It just sort of happened as a result of the first time that Jenna put her in danger. Mel’s health and safety matter to me most at the moment.
“Her doctor believes that the asthma attack and her hyperventilating today cause the underlying pneumonia in her lungs to exacerbate, causing her to begin bringing up mucus and letting it secrete in her lungs further. I won’t subject her to anything that Jenna might do, especially learning that Mel’s pregnant. Knowing I have another forty-eight hours without worrying that Jenna will show up is a relief. If at the end of it she still decides to sign herself out, I’ll have someone there with additional clothes for her, but I will not be by to see her again until something changes,” I state, ending the call after Dr. Patricks agrees it seems to be the best course of action for Mel’s wellbeing.
A long sigh falls from my lips as I settle into a recliner, a glass of whiskey in hand wondering where I went wrong. Was keeping the truth of Jenna’s mother from her the wrong choice? Would it have made a difference if I’d just told her that her mother was an addict that cared more about the high than her?
At least there’s one thing to look forward to with the new baby, I know I’ll never have to worry about that being an issue with Mel, and it makes me love her more.
