The Call Of The City – Episode 37
The Call Of The City by Katharine Swartz
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“All ready, Andrew?”
The surgeon smiled at him cheerfully, as if Andrew was going in for a routine procedure rather than a three-hour-long, potentially life-threatening heart operation.
Andrew managed a smile back, but Meg knew how worried he was.
They’d known he would need a second operation for over a month now, but the reality was still terrifying for both of them.
“Do you have any questions for me before you’re prepped for surgery?”
“No, I think I’m OK.” Meg tamped down on her frustration at Andrew’s typically laconic response.
Ever the doctor, he hated being the patient.
She had questions, though – loads of them. How dangerous is this procedure? How long will it take for him to recover? Will he ever be the same again?
The trouble was, she didn’t know whether she wanted the answers.
The surgeon gave a brisk nod before clapping Andrew on the shoulder.
“I’ll see you in theatre, then.”
After he’d gone, Meg expelled the breath she had been holding.
“There wasn’t anything you wanted to ask?” she said tentatively, and Andrew shrugged.
“I know what I’m facing.”
Did he? The surgeon had made it clear that there were serious risks associated with this operation, especially since he’d already had one on his heart.
It could result in worse health problems, or even death. He’d also said there were no guarantees of any improvement.
Meg knew surgeons had to give worst-case scenarios as part of duty of care, but it had still alarmed her, although she’d tried not to show it.
Andrew had remained stoic throughout, nodding brusquely as the surgeon explained every terrible risk, every promise he couldn’t give.
And now they just had to wait.
“May I get you some water?” Meg asked, a bit desperately. She needed to do something.
“I’m fine, Meg.” Andrew gave her a brief smile. “I think you’re more worried than I am.”
“Are you worried?” It had become so difficult to get into her husband’s head lately, something Meg hadn’t experienced in nearly thirty years of marriage.
She felt as if he were keeping her out, although she suspected that was just his way of being brave.
“Of course I am. I’d be a fool not to be.” He sighed and patted her hand. “But we can’t change things, or affect the outcome of the op. What will be, will be.”
“That sounds rather fatalistic,” Meg couldn’t help but argue. She longed to be proactive. She’d been buying heart-healthy cookbooks, researching online, yet in moments such as this it felt like so little.
Perhaps all she could really do was simply be there. To hold his hand and show him she loved him.
“Meg, I’ve been thinking,” Andrew said, and she tensed.
“Yes?”
“I think you’re right. We should sell the house.”
Surprise made her momentarily speechless. Andrew had been against selling since she mentioned the possibility, yet now he seemed resigned to it, and that felt worse.
She knew selling the house was sensible; it had been her idea, after all. And yet it felt like such an ending.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.
“No, and neither are you, I expect. Neither of us wants it, but . . .” He sighed heavily. “It makes sense. It will be months before I’m back to my old self, if I ever am. The longer this goes on, the more I think I won’t be.” #
He set his jaw.
“I’m coming to terms with that. Slowly.”
“Oh, Andrew.”
“The last thing I want to do is saddle you with more work and care,” he continued. “Which the house will be when I can’t manage it. And I won’t be bringing any money in.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Tears stung Meg’s eyes and she blinked them back.
“For better or worse,” she reminded him gently. “Do you remember that?”
“Yes.” Andrew smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “But it feels like a whole lot of worse, lately.”
“I know it does, darling.”
She swallowed hard.
“But that’s life, isn’t it? You take the good with the bad. You can’t have one without the other, and I’ll always be with you.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I know you’d do the same for me.”
“I would, Meg,” Andrew said. “In a heartbeat.”
“Then that’s that.”
“But I don’t want you to pine if anything should happen to me.”
The tears she thought she’d avoided now trickled down her cheeks.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“It has to be said. You’re still young, Meg, with plenty of life ahead of you.
“I want you to promise me that you’d live life to the full. You’ll find someone else.”
“I will promise no such thing, Andrew Cavendish!” Meg retorted fiercely. “Yes, I’ll live life as best as I can, but I’ll grieve as well.”
She took a shuddering breath, wiping her cheeks.
“Let’s not talk about that now, please. I can’t bear it, and this operation isn’t that risky, surely?”
“Even so . . .”
“Even so,” Meg repeated firmly. “There’s no need to go on about it. You’ve made your feelings plain and so have I.”
He smiled faintly.
“I love you, you know.”
“I know. And I love you.” She leaned down to kiss him. “And that’s all that matters.”
A few minutes later, when Andrew was wheeled away to theatre, Meg wished she’d said more about how she loved him, how he was going to get better, how they had a whole future together.
“If he comes out of this operation alive,” she whispered, “I’ll make sure he knows how I feel. How much I love him and how proud I am of him. How we can still have so many years together.”
With her heart heavy and her stomach knotted with anxiety, Meg settled down to wait.
To be continued . . .
