Page 27 of Hate To Want You
“Awesome. The dogs are the best. Do you still have the rainbow ones?” Teagan asks, then she’s hit by another coughing fit. I wait until it subsides to reply.
“Sure do. I’ll wear one tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dr. D.” She gives me a wan smile, and Heidi and I make our way out to the hall.
“I have to ask. What’s with the socks?”
I chuckle. “It started a few years back; I was so exhausted after a night shift, I didn’t realize I put on mismatched socks. One of the patients noticed and thought it was so funny. Then I started doing it on purpose. These kids need any reason possible to smile.”
Heidi stares at me for so long, it starts to feel like she’s examining me, trying to make sense of what she sees.
“That’s really sweet of you.”
My shoulders lift in a shrug. “It’s no big deal.” I might sound dismissive of her compliment, but in reality, the opposite is true. I like that she admires something so small about me.
I like it a lot.
The rest of the day is a blur. We see our other patients, respond to consults, but our minds never leave Teagan for long. Over the course of the next eight hours, her respirologist comes, adjusts the treatment plan, and confers with me, then leaves. He’ll be back tomorrow. All of us on shift today are in and out of her room.
That’s the thing in pediatrics. Certain patients just stick with you. They find a way into your heart, and they never leave. Oftentimes, it’s the sickest ones that we connect with. It could be because we know subconsciously that they need the human connection and compassion even more than the kid who’s in for a day with a broken leg and can then go home, never to be seen again, God willing. Or maybe it’s because we know this young soul may not be around much longer.
And the death of a child equates to the death of infinite possibilities. A future that never gets to happen.
That’s something you never get over, no matter how many times you experience it.
Later that night, well past the end of our shift, there’s still no change in Teagan’s status. If anything, her numbers and vitals are slightly worse.
I find Heidi buying a chocolate bar out of the vending machine. She looks as weary as I feel. “Listen, I’m going to stay overnight and keep an eye on Teagan.”
She nods, unwrapping the bar and holding it out to me. I shake my head.
“Okay, I’ll crash in the residents’ lounge.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised she would stay. After all, I know how dedicated she is to the job, and she’s also got history with Teagan.
“You don’t have to, if you’d rather go home. I’ll page you if anything urgent happens.”
Heidi quirks her brow at me. “Max. Teagan is a VIP. You said it yourself. I’m staying.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Okay. Well, let me walk you to the residents’ lounge.”
Her soft chuckle is a soothing balm right now. “It’s just downstairs, I think I can make it by myself.”
“Well, I’m going that way anyway. It would be weird to not walk together.” Okay, that’s a stretch and I can tell she sees right through it, given the tiny smirk on her face.
When we get to the door of the lounge reserved for residents, Heidi hesitates just outside. “Will you text me when you go to check on her?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Okay.” She pushes the door open, and from our vantage point, we can see that both bunks are already occupied. “Crap,” Heidi says softly as she closes the door. “Two beds among all the residents in this dang hospital is just not enough.”
“Take it up with administration,” I say wryly. There’s really only one other option, and I don’t even give myself the briefest of moments to consider if this is a dumb idea before I say it.
“Come and sleep in the attending’s lounge.”
“Isn’t that the ultimate taboo?” she whispers teasingly. I arch a brow at her word choice, my mind going down a much different path.
“Taboo? Really?” Heidi blushes slightly and I soften my response with a grin. “It’s fine. Come on.”
