Mike could barely hold on to the violent, writhing emotions in his chest. He watched Khat’s long red lashes quiver. He held her hand firmly, his other hand on her right shoulder. “I’m right here, Khat. You’re coming out of it. God, I love you. Keep fighting, come back to me...”
Dr. Mason was in the ICU unit in five minutes flat, his face filled with concern. Nurse Black accompanied him, barely able to keep her smile hidden. Mike stood as the doctor took his stethoscope, listening intently to Khat’s lungs, touching her arm and then taking her pulse. Her lashes continued to move every now and again. Mike held his breath as the doctor studied the monitors and her chart.
“Okay,” he said, “she’s made it through the gauntlet, Petty Officer Tarik. Your fiancée has just battled back from insurmountable odds.” He looped his stethoscope around his neck, smiling fully. “She’s quite a fighter.”
“What now?” Mike demanded, his voice hoarse, his gaze never leaving Khat’s face.
“We wait,” Mason said simply, his hand on Khat’s arm. “She’s coming out from the shock of surgery and her body has finally turned the tide against the infection. Just stay with her. Give Nurse Black a call when she opens her eyes, all right?”
Nodding, Mike didn’t trust his voice, wanting to scream and shout for joy. “Okay,” he managed.
“And, after she becomes conscious, we’ll keep her here for a bit. If she comes back strongly, I’ll authorize moving her to a private room on the next floor. Then, it becomes a matter of time, waiting to see how fast she pulls out of it.” Mason shook his head, awe in his tone. “I’m amazed. I really am. She’s a medical miracle of sorts.”
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