Page 5 of Not Falling for the Forward
Emily
Well, this is awkward as fuck.
Why, of all people, did Dan have to be working today?
“Are you sure you don't want me to call Chris? He really should be here with you.” This would be the third time he has asked me about contacting my next of kin. My fiancée. The cheater who lives in my house. Oh, and who also happens to be Dan’s brother.
Dan, being the doctor that is looking after me.
The same Dan that is one of my closest friends. The same man that introduced me to Chris all those years ago; back when I was just a student nurse, Dan a very new doctor and Chris, less of a prick than he is now.
I think this might be the worst day of my life.
Could be rock bottom.
I am sitting on a trolley in an A&E side room—yes, it’s a perk of being friends with an A&E registrar and working for the trust. No, it’s not equitable and fair on everyone else but I’m really not interested in a sainthood today—holding a very large ball of gauze under my nose to staunch the bleeding. I have been trying to ignore the mirror to my left, but I keep catching glimpses of my rapidly forming two black eyes.Thankfully, I am better at holding back the breakdown I deserve to have, than I am at not visualising my gorgeous new bruises.
Soon. I can break down soon.
“No, Dan, thank you. He’s working overtime today; I don't want him to worry.” I give the excuse Chris gave me about why he wouldn’t be contactable today. Of course, I now know the real reason is that he was hoping to be inside his coworker.
Tosser.
I stare at the back of Dan’s head as he types something on the computer, he’s in his regular blue scrubs with his stethoscope hanging around his neck. If you asked AI ‘show me a picture of a doctor’ it would show you Dan right now. Straight off the set ofGreys Anatomy,with his over six-foot muscular build and strong jawline, I wouldn’t be shocked if he popped up on the show. Annoyingly, the genetics for his whole family are incredible and I can’t help but see the similarities between him and Chris now. Same large thick shoulders, same straight nose, same chestnut hair. The biggest difference between the two is the smile, where Dan’s comes freely to anyone, Chris is more reserved and particular with who he offers his grins to.
Dan turns his big, full-watted smile on me as he leans in and pats my thigh reassuringly. It’s weird seeing him like this after years of working in different departments than each other. I now only see him on days off when he’s usually in some form of matching outfits with one, or both, of his four-year-old twin girls. My nieces, that I will probably never see again after this whole thing blows up. A fresh wave of sadness overwhelms me, and my eyes burn with unshed tears. The extra pressure brings a sharp wave of pain to my nose, and I wince.
“You in pain?” Dan asks.
“Quite a bit actually,” but the physicalpain isn't the half of it.
“I’ll prescribe some pain killers. You sure you want to be here on your own?”
“DAN!” I raise my voice slightly and give him the best glare I can manage through the swelling. “Stop trying to mother hen me.”
“Okay, okay!’ He lifts his arms in a chill out motion, “But you could be here a while waiting for your head CT. Even I can’t bump people up the radiology list.”
“I donotneed a head CT!” I argue.
“Blunt force trauma to the face, fall backwards and hit your head from height. And yes, five-foot-seven counts as ‘from height’, also a loss of consciousness.” He holds up a finger counting each reason, “And I don't care how brief of a loss of consciousness it was before you argue.” He shuts me up before I can argue that exact point.
“But—” I try
“But.” He mimics my newly nasal voice and sticks out his bottom lip, “But nothing. You know how quickly a bleed on the brain can kill you. Let me rule it out, then you can go home, and I can relax knowing you're not going to be back here in a few hours with an untreated sub cranial haematoma.”
If I thought he was overreacting I would argue more, only I used to nurse in ICU and I have unfortunately seen too many patients die of things just like that.
“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest in a sign of protest anyway.
“Good,” Dan says as he stands. “I’ll let the housekeeper know how you like your tea, get settled in ‘cause you’re not going anywhere until neuro view those scans.”
Six hours, three cups of tea and a review from a very grumpy neuro consultant later I am discharged with a four-week sick note, a follow up with ENT about my confirmed broken nose and a leaflet about dos and don’ts after a head injury.
Kick your two-timing fiancée out of your house isn’t on either list so I spend the bus ride home making my own.
Do: Cut holes in all of the gym shorts that he wears without boxers, just big enough that his balls will hangout when he lunges but not big enough to notice as he puts them on.
Don’t: Throw out any of his meal prep that's in the freezer - this will come in handy when I can’t be bothered cooking.
