Theo twines his fingers with mine, interlacing our bloodied hands. “It’s Thursday. You can’t tell me what to do.”
His terrible timing for a joke makes my throat squeeze closed. I can’t laugh, can only clutch his paling form as uncontrolled sobs wrack my body. This can’t be it for us. We don’t have enough memories. Don’t take him from me!
I begin to rock, anything to soothe him and myself, bring comfort when there’s nothing but fear. Theo grunts, his hand tightening in mine.
“Stay with me,” I beg.
He squeezes my hand again. “I’m with you, Ans. Always.”
My heart sputters at his confession, his voice stirring bits and pieces of broken memories. Visions of our first Christmas in our apartment. The puny tree we put up, decorated with the earrings left behind from all Theo’s one-night stands. Our first time at the fair, when his clown fear was revealed. The way he wakes in the morning, rumpled and sleepily, whining that it doesn’t rain enough. The way he tells me he loves me when he thinks I’m asleep.
“Hurry up!” I shout into the open air.
Cade comes running, his eyes jumping everywhere before finally landing on me. “The barn is secure. Lou is dead.”
I look at him, defeated. “I need help.” A pained cry rips through my chapped lips. “Theo needs help.”
Cade kneels next to me, his green eyes flickering over Theo’s limp body. He swallows thickly and very bluntly says, “Then help him, Dr. McCallister.”
Later, I will realize that rude comment saved Theo’s life. I wipe off my tears, pull my shit together and act like the badass doctor I am.
“We got the stuff,” Lawson shouts. All five of my boys run to me with their hampers full of medical supplies. My eyes well again with salty tears.You will not cry.
“Anniston.” Cade shakes my arm, grabbing my attention. “What do we need to do?”
I gaze into his confident eyes that tell me I can do anything. That these men, these heroes trust me to save Theo’s life. I can feel myself growing taller, more confident by the second. These men believe in me. I am surrounded by family. I can do this!
“I need dressings. We need to stop the bleeding,” I say to all of them.
“On it,” Hayes responds, dumping out his hamper.
“Scissors. Someone cut off his shirt.”
“Got it,” Vic replies. He starts to cut Theo’s shirt carefully. “Commander,” he says with unease. “I think we need to hurry.”
I look at Theo, who is gasping for air. “I need the intubation kit!” I scream.
In med school, you are taught to remain calm but no one taught me how to do that when it’s Theo struggling to breathe. My hands are a shaking mess. My cerebral palsy only flares when stress is heavy. Right now, I am on the verge of a breakdown. I take a deep breath, forcing my lungs to expand.You can do this. Theo needs you.
I tighten the muscles in my forearms, controlling them. The nerves jump but I have a better handle on the shaking by the time Cade tosses me the intubation kit. I crack it open, ripping off the protective plastic and move closer, nestling Theo’s head between my knees.
I look at Hayes and Cade one more time for reassurance. “I need you to hold him down.”
They nod, both pushing down on his shoulders without question.
As calmly as I can, I whisper to the boy who holds my heart in his hands, “I’m going to put a tube down your throat to help you breathe. It’s going to feel weird and you’re going to want to pull it out, but I need you to resist the urge and relax. Okay?”
His tired eyes relay his understanding. It’s getting harder for him to breathe. I need to do this quickly.
Tilting his head back, I grab the tube and ease it into his mouth. He gags and tries to flinch away but we hold him tight. “Try to relax,” I repeat, continuing to use pressure to move the tube. This has to be done. I can’t sedate him, not in these conditions. He can handle this. He’s strong.
I visualize his trachea, minding his vocal chords, as I thread the tube delicately through his airway. He begins to flail. Hayes and Cade grunt as they keep him restrained.
“I know, I know. Think of something else. Think of something fun. Like, getting blow jobs.” Cade chuckles beside me as I remove the guide wire and scope after verifying proper placement of the breathing tube.
Theo settles down a bit but strains to free his hands.
“We need to keep this tube in for a little while,” I explain, taping the excess tubing to his cheek. He grunts and tries to talk before I shush him. “Don’t talk. It will only damage your vocal chords.”
