Not So Lucky

Dana “Lucky” Lynch didn’t feel all that lucky sitting alone in a hospital bed. To be honest, she’d never felt lucky and she wasn’t quite sure where that nickname came from. The name came about so long ago that it was basically her real name. It may as well have been on her birth certificate.

She glanced around the familiar sterile off-white walls and huffed a sigh. It was barely April and this was her seventh hospital visit this year. At this point she should just move in. This wasn’t even as serious as the other times! She’d just been dehydrated and fatigued, which led to her suddenly passing out at her desk.

And, okay, yeah, maybe she’d been more fatigued than usual, but not enough to warrant a hospital visit. But now here she was, hooked up to a machine once again.

Three monitoring stickers pressed to different points on her chest, an IV catheter in her wrist, a pulse ox monitor on her finger, and her breath coming as slow as ever. She groaned softly and dropped her head back on the loud pillow behind her. She was so tired. She was always tired and sick of ending up in this place.

A sharp knock shook her from her thoughts before the door opened and her doctor and her favorite nurse entered the room.

“Lucky, what are you in for this time?” Dr. Martin asked jokingly as he pulled up a stool.

“I swooned.” She deadpanned. The tall doctor chuckled. She watched the man who was basically her father open her chart on the computer beside the bed before gesturing to the other person in the room.

“Lucky, you remember nurse Joan,” The middle-aged brunette woman waved. She looked almost as tired as Lucky.

“Hi. Long time no see.” Lucky waved back jokingly.

“Hey, Lucky.” Joan smiled back, shaking her head fondly.

Dr. Martin pulled his stethoscope off his shoulders. “Mind if I listen?” Lucky nodded and the room fell silent as he listened to her heart and lungs. He frowned and Lucky’s stomach dropped.

“Everything okay?” She asked when he’d sat back up.

“Just bradycardic, but that’s normal for you.” Dr. Martin replied. He swung the stethoscope back around his shoulders and fixed her with an easy look.

“Then why did you make that face?” Lucky asked, pointing at him accusatory with her eyes narrowed.

“What face?”

“The face that says something tragically wrong.” She replied.

The man snorted. “Nothing's wrong, Lucky. We just have to keep you here for a few days-”

“To a week. Yeah, I know the drill.” She sighed, finishing his sentence.

“Is anyone coming to stay with you?” Dr. Martin asked as Joan started to take her vitals.

“You’re stuck with just me.” Lucky teased. He knew that. She was always here alone.

“Ugh! What ever will I do?” Dr. Martin feigned a hand over his chest. She laughed softly.

She’d known the 6’1” man since she was four, and now at twenty two he knew her maybe better than she knew herself. He knew her health better, that was for sure. He started charting on the computer and Lucky relaxed into the bed as Joan took her vitals.

Dr. Martin finished charting and stood up, crossing his arms over his black scrub top.

“Alright, Lucky, we’ll let you rest and Joan will be in every now and then for vitals; you know the drill.”

“Yep.” Lucky nodded. She watched the three leave the room and as soon as the door shut she let out a heavy exhale.

Tears prickled at her eyes and she swallowed thickly. It felt like a clock was ticking in the back of her mind, counting down the days she had left alive. She knew the look on her father figure’s face. She’d seen it many times. She was dying. Really and truly this time. She needed to call her work and her girlfriend and her… Lucky swallowed and hiccuped against a sob. She wanted to go home.

An hour-ish later, Joan found herself speaking in low tones with Dr. Martin outside Lucky’s room, a pained look on the man’s face as she shook her head.

Joan sighed. “Lucky’s heart won’t pick up, her BPM keeps dropping down and is… she’s going to pass soon. Isn't she?” The nurse asked gently, her eyes shimmering.

“Yeah. I know it.” Dr. Martin whispered. His eyes were hollow with pain and his face was pulled taunt. His arms were crossed tight over his chest as he let out a few stuttering breaths.

“So does she, huh?” Joan asked softly, looking in through the window to the woman’s room.

“No. No, not formally.” Dr. Martin sighed. “But she knows it the same way we do. She knows it in her heart. In her bones.” His calm voice contradicted his weary face. “I’m going to tell her now.” He looked at the door and swallowed before he sanitized his hands and let out a shaking breath. He hesitated and Joan put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll call Dr. Ellison.” She assured him gently.

Dr. Martin nodded. “Thank you, Joan.” He whispered before knocking softly and pushing the door open. He disappeared inside and the nurse felt a sense of dread fill her. Poor guy. That was basically his daughter and he had to go tell her she was about to die. Joan sniffed and wiped her eyes softly, closing the nurse’s window to give them absolute privacy.

“Hey, Lucky, how are you feeling?” Grant asked softly as he stepped into the young woman's room.

She swallowed. “Really fucking tired.” She whispered. One look at her and Grant knew that she knew. He still had to say it. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed beside her.

“Your heart rate is declining rapidly. Lucky, I think today’s the day.” He murmured.

She nodded, her eyes glassy. “I know. How- how long do I have?”

“It’s hard to say for sure. It could be hours or it could be tomorrow morning.” Grant shook his head softly, his chest tightening. “Do I need to call your Mom?” He asked gently.

“No! I don’t want that woman in here!” Lucky spat, a sudden fight in her body.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I understand.” Grant settled his hands on her shoulders gently and the fight drained out of her immediately. He understood so well. Lucky’s mother was… a lot. She loved her daughter, but not in the ways Lucky had ever needed. She pushed the girl too hard all throughout her childhood. She’d wanted her daughter to be successful and capable as an adult, but she wasn't able to meet her mother’s standards physically. It caused a rift between them.

Lucky leaned forward until her head rested on his forearm. “I’m scared.” She whispered.

“I know, baby.” He kissed the top of his daughter's head. Were they blood related? No. Related by marriage? Almost. Once. But no. But they’d known each other since Lucky was a little girl and Grant had been her doctor and more for eighteen long years and she damn well was his baby.

“Dad, I don’t want to die!” She suddenly sobbed. Grant’s chest cracked open and he pulled her closer, being mindful of the wires and stickers on her chest and the IV in her wrist.

“Shh, breath, baby, I’m here.”

Lucky was hyperventilating where she was curled into his chest, her tears creating a wet spot on his scrub top. Grant stroked her hair and looked out the window as his eyes stung. The sun was setting slowly outside the massive window. The room was quiet besides the monitor, the noises of the ICU muffled behind the door.

“Dad?” Grant looked down at the red faced woman against him. She looked so impossibly young and tired. Too tired.

“Yeah, sweetie. I’m here.” He whispered.

“Don’t they need you out there?”

“They can wait.” He shook his head.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to stay.” Lucky protested, trying to pull away.

“I’m not…” He kept her close. “I’m not letting you die alone.”

Lucky looked up at him again, her mouth trembling. “But you might be here for hours.” She whispered.

“I’m staying as long as I need.” He replied. As long as you have was left unsaid. He and Lucky adjusted so that Grant could sit beside her against the bed, wrapping the young woman in his arms. Lucky curled into him, sniffling quietly as her breath came shallower and shallower. Grant didn’t bother suggesting putting her on oxygen. She’d always hated the nasal cannula, and there was… no point now. All the signs and symptoms pointed to the same thing. His daughter was dying in his arms. He swallowed and squeezed her tightly.

The door opened and the two looked up to see Joan and Oscar.

Joan gazed at them sadly, slowly approaching the bed. “Hey, honey.” She reached out and petted the younger woman’s hair softly. Lucky sniffed and looked over at the kind nurse. Joan was almost always her day nurse when she was at the hospital. Grant had watched the two grow as thick as thieves and he knew the nurse had a soft spot for her that she didn’t have for many people who weren’t her own kids.

“Thanks, Joan. For… everything.” Lucky rasped.

Joan nodded and blinked, a few tears landing on her cheeks. “Anytime, hon.” She leaned down and kissed the younger’s forehead, tucking her hair behind her ears. The nurse ducked back outside, leaving Oscar to watch the two on the bed. Oscar caught Grant’s eyes, the two men sharing a solemn look before Grant shook his head.

Oscar sighed. “Lucky,” He spoke low and comfortingly.

“Yeah.” She sniffed.

“Give ‘em hell up there, kid.” The doctor ordered, eyes shining with grief and mischief.

Lucky chuckled breathlessly. “You got it, doc.” She huffed. Oscar nodded proudly and stepped outside, closing the curtains for some privacy as he did.

Lucky burrowed her head back into Grant’s chest, heaving breaths. He held her as tight as he could without hurting her. They just… waited. The monitor beeped steadily, echoing as the only sound around the room, until it didn’t. It screamed at them as Lucky’s heart rate dropped dramatically. Grant’s own heart dropped. Here it came. The moment he’d been dreading since Lucky was four years old in the office, bluer than he’d ever seen a kid. It was time.

“I love you, Lucky. I love you so much, baby.” He murmured, pressing a final long kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, too, Dad.” Lucky looked up, her face blue and her eyes red. “I-” She was gasping as the monitor continued to scream. “I love you.”

“I love you so much, Dana.” Grant rasped, his voice wet and his ears ringing. Lucky closed her eyes, heaving her last few breaths before her chest finally stuttered and feeling bled out of her limbs. She was left still in his arms as the monitor gave a long, steady, heartbreaking beep. Lucky was dead in his arms and all Grant could do was stare in shock he didn’t expect.

Oscar and Joan were sitting at the nurses station when the door to Lucky’s room opened. Oscar looked over to see his husband stepping out with a broken expression on his face. He knew. Dana “Lucky” Lynch was dead. Grant started trudging toward him and Oscar quickly met him halfway, pulling the man into his arms.

“I can’t… I knew but I’m… Oscar.” Grant was shaking as he struggled to get his thoughts out.

Oscar held him tighter and Grant practically collapsed into him. “Come on.” Oscar gently adjusted them so he could lead his husband to a private family room.

“Oscar, she’s gone!” Grant cried as they dropped onto the squeaky auburn couch.

“I’m so sorry.” Oscar murmured, turning to face him. Grant sniffed and put his head in his hands and Oscar reached out to run a hand up and down his back.

In his mind, he could see Lucky in the bed. Tucked in and still, the IV still in her wrist as the sun set outside the window. He closed his eyes and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Lucky was so young. She had so much left to do. Grant was sobbing beside him and Oscar pulled him closer to tuck the man into his side.

“I can’t…” Grant sniffed. He suddenly tensed. “We have to tell Emery. And her mom. And her girlfriend; Stella. We have to-!”

Oscar put a gentle hand in the man’s salt and pepper hair, scratching his scalp soothingly.

“Just breathe for a minute, honey. Okay, just feel it.” He murmured.

Grant’s breathing stuttered. “I don’t want to… Oscar, why am I so shocked? I knew this was coming! Fuck, I knew it was coming this morning! I’ve known it was coming for eighteen years!”

“Shh, breath.”

Grant was hyperventilating as he choked wetly on his sobs. “She’s gone! She’s gone!” He repeated like a chant. Oscar closed his eyes, allowing his own tears to fall as his husband clutched his scrub top. Lucky had been closer with Grant, the man practically her father, but she and Oscar had a special relationship as well. They were close and if Lucky couldn’t go to Grant, Oscar was her immediate back up. That was his daughter too.

He was dreading telling Emery. The fourteen year old looked up to his pseudo-sister so much.

He dreaded telling Lucky’s mom and Lucky’s girlfriend, Stella. They were about to propose to each other. With a gasp, Oscar let himself fully grieve the loss of his daughter and everything she would never get to do.

They might’ve been in there for minutes, might’ve been hours, but eventually Joan came in with a red nose and eyes.

“I found covers for your shifts. Go home, boys.” She whispered.

“Thank you.” Oscar sniffed, his voice rough as he wiped his eyes. It was a blur for both men and then suddenly they were sitting in Oscar’s truck. Joan offered to drive Grant’s car home tomorrow. Grant was unresponsive and silent in the passenger’s seat.

They drove home and when Oscar pulled into the driveway, they sat in silence for a few minutes.

“We have to tell Emery.” Grant whispered.

Oscar nodded softly. “Yeah. I think…” He hated that what he was about to say was true.

“I think he’ll know. As soon as he sees us.”

Grant winced. “I hate that you're right.”

“Me too.” Oscar sniffed. They waited for another long moment before trudging inside the house.

Emery was there to greet them on the couch. “Hey, dads, how was work?” He asked, a bow of chips on his lap. Grant gulped a shaky breath and Oscar licked his lips nervously. They sat down on the couch beside him.

Emery turned to them and took in his dads wet faces and red eyes. “Dads?” Distantly, he remembered his Dad telling him his Pop needed him at the hospital. Lucky had been there.

“Emery, we need to talk to you,” Oscar started softly.

Emery’s heart dropped. “She’s dead.” He whispered in horror. “Lucky’s dead, isn’t she? I knew it.” Grant sniffed beside his husband, blinking harshly. Suddenly, he had an armful of his sobbing son. It set him off again and Oscar joined them, not a dry eye in the dimly lit room.

One day, it would be okay. They’d be able to look back on Lucky’s memory with laughter and comfort, but for now the family just held each other and grieved Dana “Lucky” Lynch.