Page 14 of Baby Girl
A not-so-quiet group of people stops outside my door, and I heave a sigh. The doctor with her gaggle of med students. This marks their third visit in the last two days. Pleasantries and then five minutes of being spoken about, like I’m not in the room. Hopefully I get to go home today.
I watch through the window as the med students consult their notes and answer Dr. Everett’s questions. In her early thirties,she looks like she belongs on a medical drama, with her blonde hair in a French twist, makeup always perfectly done, a smile for everyone, and a pristine white doctor’s coat.
There is a vague memory of her face from when I first arrived, and I regularly hear her name being paged, so I figure she is probably someone important around here. Which has had me wondering why she is spending so much time with me, considering I’m only on a watch-and-monitor order. It’s not like I’m on death’s doorstep or anything.
The handle of my door turns, and the mother duck and her ducklings follow her in, tablets clutched in their hands.
“Good morning, Emery. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Everett asks, eyes darting over to my monitor and then running over my features. It’s as if she is trying to see inside my head to determine if my concussion has improved or if it is going to develop from a mild to a moderate traumatic brain injury.
“Better than yesterday. I’ve been awake since breakfast, but the TV is still giving me a headache,” I reply as I fiddle with the edge of the hospital blanket. “And I managed a shower this morning, but that made me feel pretty gross, to be honest.”
As much as I really don’t want to fucking be here, I’m not messing around with my brain. It’s literally the key to my dream future, and I’m not letting Tray take that, as well as the last few years of my life.
The students all tap away furiously as Dr. Everett nods. “Yes, that is probably going to last a couple of days, if not weeks. Don’t rush the healing process, okay?”
“Okay,” I reply obediently, because what the hell else am I supposed to say? It’s not like I can make it go any faster, and being vertical makes me want to puke, so there are no escape plans in my future.
“Wonderful. Okay, ready for the med students?” she asks with a smile that genuinely reaches her green eyes.
I roll back onto my back and reach for the remote and adjust the bed so I’m sitting up a little more. “Sure.”
“Excellent. Argos, go.”
A Hispanic guy steps forward, hair styled back with product, black-rimmed square glasses framing dark eyes as he recites my medical history without the use of his tablet. “Emery Nicholas, female, eighteen. Came in via emergency thirty-eight hours ago with a mTBI and three-millimeter tear of the left UCL. IV has been disconnected. Last medication was metoclopramide and ketorolac at twenty-forty-five.”
“Excellent.” Dr. Everett nods approvingly before turning back to me, serious expression locked in. “Now, one of your nurses has informed me that you have refused any additional medication. May I ask why?”
Ah, Nurse Marie.
I don’t bother hiding the information from the doctor, since it’s a pretty classic story. “I’ve seen too much addiction. I won’t go down like that.”
Something flickers across her face before her entire being softens. “I understand. Okay, well, my primary objective is to get you through this first stage of healing with minimal discomfort while also ensuring your voice is heard. So”—she turns back to her students— “what is another pain management option we can offer Emery?”
Eight hands shoot into the air.
“Lewis.”
“Alternate pain medication, such as acetaminophen, which can be purchased over the counter after discharge. Cold compresses, ice chips. Reduced lighting will also help with pain management. And if the nausea persists, a low-grade antiemetic.”
“Very good.” Dr. Everett turns back to me. “How does that sound, Emery? Take the sharp edge off the pain and see how it goes overnight?”
I mull it over. It’s not like I haven’t taken painkillers before. Period pain and general headaches are still a thing I like to not have to deal with. And even I can admit that the pain was more tolerable when I wasn’t constantly worried that the two bites of toast I managed this morning were going to make a reappearance. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good, actually.”
“Wonderful. Sims, if you could write up the order, we’ll get that progressing as soon as possible. And, Emery, if everything goes well tonight, we can get you discharged tomorrow. I—” A triple beep from her phone cuts her off.
Before she can reach for her pocket, her name is called over the PA system.
“Dr. Everett, to emergency. Paging Dr. Everett.”
“Three-car pileup, five minutes out. Okay, that’s it for rounds today. Emery, I’ll try to be here for your hopeful discharge tomorrow.” Dr. Everett pockets her phone and disappears through my door, one of her students pulling it shut as they excitedly follow her through while she starts rattling off details about what they should expect to see and do.
I relax back into my pillow and re-lower the bed, more than ready for another nap, and try to ignore the loneliness sitting in the back of my chest.
Chapter 8
Derek
I pull my Henley over my head, hair still a little damp from my shower, as the doorbell rings. Adjusting my shirt, I leave my room and head down the stairs with a heaviness in my chest that has become an unwanted companion.
