The attendant didn't even look up from her computer screen. "I'm sorry, ma'am. There's only room for one waitlisted passenger. And that would be this gentleman right here."
"What?! But I was here first," Kim said, trying desperately to remain calm. "He just got here!"
"Look," the man said quietly to Kim. "I can explain."
"This is not fair," Kim said, tears welling in her eyes. "I've been waiting here for two hours, and you're letting some guy just bump me right off?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the attendant said insincerely. "It's not up to me. He was priority-ranked."
"Please. Just let me explain..." the man began.
"Priority-ranked?" Kim said incredibly. "What kind of a system is this?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," she repeated simply as she handed the man his boarding pass. "It's out of my hands. I'll be happy to book you on a flight leaving first thing in the morning."' "Please," the man said calmly to Kim. "I can explain..." he began.
"You don't understand!" Kim interrupted, as the tears began to flow. "My father is very sick. He's in the hospital... intensive care. Tomorrow morning may be too late."
The gate attendant rolled her eyes as though she had heard it all before. Sick aunt, sick grandpa, sick dog, sick dad. It made no difference to her. It was the busiest travel day of the year, and Kim wasn't getting on that flight
Kim glanced back at the man with the seat assignment. She may have lost the gate attendant's sympathy, but it looked as if she still had the man's attention. "We're very close, my father and I," she explained, lowering her voice but keeping the intensity. "He's on his deathbed. If something happens to him before I get there, I don't know if I could live with myself." Hmm. Well at least part of it was true. The part about him being her father.
The final boarding call was made, and the man glanced down at his ticket.
"Please," Kim said. "He could die before I get there." Okay, now she was really upset.
The man glanced toward the boarding gate. He looked at Kim as if evaluating her for truthfulness. He sighed. "Here," he said, handing her his ticket. "Go ahead."
Kim glanced down at the boarding pass. It was issued to an A. Hoffman. She smiled at him appreciatively. "Thank you, Mr. Hoffman. Thank you so much."
"Good luck," he said matter-of-factly.
Kim held her Styrofoam cup of thick black coffee in her hands as she glanced around the critical care waiting room. It was quite a bit more comfortable than the emergency waiting room, with clusters of well-worn, plump beige couches and chairs, and a small kitchen area.
At ten o'clock in the evening, the waiting room was practically deserted. In fact, only one family remained in the room with her, anxiously awaiting news of their loved one. The parents sat on the couch, holding hands as they stared blankly at a large TV screen. Two girls, sisters, Kim guessed, sat on the floor beneath their parents, working on a jigsaw puzzle that they had spilled out onto the coffee table.
Kim glanced up at the TV. The sound was turned down so low she couldn't even hear it, but the images were familiar enough that she didn't need any sound. In an advertisement for a local car dealership, a man whom she presumed to be the owner of the dealership was dressed up like Santa, pointing his finger and chatting at the camera. She had no doubt he was promising great prices this holiday season.
"Excuse me, Kim?"
A man with silvery white hair and a long doctor's coat stood in front of her. Kim jumped up, almost spilling her coffee.
"I spoke to you on the phone. I'm Dr. Harkavey, your father's cardiologist."
"Hi," Kim said, not certain which questions to ask first.
"I've met you before, when you were about this big," he said, raising his hand to his waist "You probably don't remember."
Kim squinted as though trying to recall.
"Why don't you set that down," he said, motioning toward her coffee. "Let's take a walk."
Still silent, Kim set her coffee down on the counter. She glanced over at the family, who were staring at her sympathetically. She flashed them a brave smile before following the doctor out into the hall.
"What's going on?" she said. "They wouldn't let me see him."
"I know. I'm sorry about that. They're just trying to be extra carefuL You're father's an important man around here." Kim knew that. She also guessed that her father was an unpopular man around there. He had never been an easy man to please, at home or at the office.
"But why can't I go in?"
"They're worried about infection. His system is very weak right now. But I think it'll be all right if you want to see him for a moment. We won't stay very long."
"But is he... will he be all right?"
"Well," he said carefully. "We were lucky. He was here when he had his heart attack so he was able to get medical attention immediately, which probably saved his life. However, he's got a serious problem with his mitral valve, as well as several of the arteries that lead to the heart. But we've assigned one of the top thoracic surgeons in the country to your father. As soon as your dad is stable, we're going to go ahead and operate... replace the mitral valve and unclog the arteries. Assuming," he said, pushing open a set of swinging doors as he checked his watch, "the surgeon has arrived by then."
They stopped at the nurse's station at the end of the corridor. "This is Kim Risson, Dr. Risson's daughter," Dr. Harkavey said to the nurse behind the desk. "I'm going to take her in for a few minutes." The nurse nodded as she flashed Kim a sympathetic glance. "Here, Kim," he said, handing her a mask. "Why don't you put this on."