Mercy Hospital

The E.R at Mercy Hospital reeked of antiseptic, the foul odour stinging my nose each time I inhaled. I moved restlessly in the hard plastic chair, unable to get comfortable. Man, I hated hospitals. The smell that was overpowering. The bright white walls that lay bare, devoid of any decoration. The nurses that exuded fake cheerfulness every time a potential patient came in, only to resort back to their sour selves the minute they thought nobody was watching. And lastly, the sick or injured people that crowded the waiting room, all agitated at having to wait hours to be seen by a doctor. Luckily it was only half full tonight, and there were only two sour nurses at the reception counter, one of whom had begrudgingly helped me with my paperwork seeing as my right hand was injured. I noticed a box on the form that said “Please let us know if you are experiencing any of the following:” Underneath that statement were a series of boxes one could tick if they applied. Bleeding heavily was at the top of the list. Having already been waiting for over thirty minutes, I found myself wondering if the haughty nurse had ticked that box or left it blank. I stared down at my injury. The thin sweater I’d wrapped around my hand to staunch the bleeding was soaked, with blood beginning to slowly trickle down my arm and drip rhythmically onto my jeans. Well, this was just craptastic. I cursed inwardly at the now red sweater. An hour ago it had been a crisp white, and my favourite too. Maybe I should have listened to my best friend Courtney and bought the black one instead. At least then it might have been salvageable. Blood washed out of black a whole lot better than it did out of stupid white.
Jigging my leg impatiently, I looked around for something, anything, to amuse myself with until someone finally noticed the girl bleeding all over the hospital floor. A bunch of outdated magazines sat on the table in front of me, and seeing as how my options were so limited I reached out to grab one - with my right hand. I barely managed to stifle a yelp as a sharp pain seared my hand, all the way to my fingertips. Good god! What an idiot. I cradled my hand, trying to make the pain recede. And to think, when I first got here I was inwardly complaining about the dull, throbbing ache that had settled in. Please, come back! It was so much better than the burning pain I was feeling now.
I glanced up as a male doctor wearing light green scrubs strode into the waiting room consulting a clipboard. Come on, I thought, sitting up in anticipation. It had to be my turn. How much was a girl supposed to suffer before she was granted medical attention?
“Mary Abernathy?”
I sighed heavily and slumped in my chair as yet another name that wasn’t mine was called. A middle aged woman with a whimpering toddler in her arms stood, looking mighty relieved, and followed the doctor through the double doors.
I ground my teeth at the injustice, silently fuming. Sure, her baby had a cold. But was she bleeding profusely? No, she wasn’t. I continued to glare at the double doors as someone pushed through them and into the waiting room. It was a boy around my age, maybe a couple of years older. His jeans were ripped and bloodied in several places, and his once white singlet was also smeared with blood and something black. A fierce scowl dominated his face, but surprisingly it didn’t deter me from noticing how bright his blue eyes were, or how well his tawny skin matched his dark hair, which was tied in a short ponytail at his neck. Such an unusual combination of features, yet he was undeniably, well, hot. Transfixed by his raw beauty, I watched as he draped a dark hoodie over one shoulder and gingerly touched his bandaged bicep before limping toward the exit. Unfortunately, he must have felt a pair of eyes on him because halfway there he stopped and looked in my direction. Flustered at the sudden attention, all I could do was gape at him, mouth opening and shutting slightly as he raked a quick gaze over my dishevelled appearance. Expression unchanging, he continued on and out of the building.
Ugh! How embarrassing. I must have looked like a fish out of water with my lips flapping like that. Sighing heavily, I rested my elbows on my knees and hung my head, my honey brown locks acting as a curtain around my face. Tonight definitely wasn’t my night. Drops of blood began hitting the white tiles and I watched them form a tiny puddle at my feet. Growing bored quickly, I was reduced to counting the specs of blood as they hit the floor.
Just when I was starting to wonder what would kill me first- boredom or blood loss, a pair of boots appeared directly in my line of sight.
I craned my head up and stared into a pair of bright blue eyes. Oh, my god. It was the guy I’d just been eyeballing in a way too obvious manner. My cheeks instantly burned red. Was he here to demand what I was looking at? Dear god, I hoped not. I was already mortified enough. He scowled down at me, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. I couldn’t help but notice he’d put on his hoodie, which hugged his toned body nicely.
“How long have you been waiting here?” he asked. His voice was rich and deep, the low, even tone cascading over me.
“Too long.” I muttered, more to myself than him. He arched an eyebrow at my response and yanked the cigarette out of his mouth, pocketing it.
“What happened?”
What happened? That was a very good question. See, my idiot boyfriend, ex-boyfriend as soon as I got myself out of the E.R. and let him have it, “accidentally” pushed me through a window because he was jealous of me talking to another guy. Then he oh, so kindly, drove me to the hospital, dumped my a*s here and told me to call him when I needed a ride home.
A pity I couldn’t repeat that heart warming tale to anyone else. No, I’d better give the abridged version.
“I cut myself on some glass.”
Well, okay. That was more like an abridged version of the abridged version.
“Right.” I could tell in that one word alone he didn’t believe me for a second. Wow, this guy was astute.
“And that’s the story you’re sticking to?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I challenged. “That’s what happened.”
“Okay.”
Grabbing me by my good arm he hauled me to my feet.
“Come on,” he muttered, leading us to the reception desk. Dumbfounded, I found myself following without protest.
“Excuse me,” he said to the nurse in charge of reception. She looked up from the pile of paperwork she’d been perusing, eyebrows raised.
“Can I help you?”
“I hope so. See, my girlfriend here cut herself pretty badly on some broken glass and we’ve been waiting well over half an hour to be seen. Is it going to happen any time soon? Or should we just wait until she bleeds to death?” My ears and cheeks turned a brilliant red at his mention of me being his girlfriend, and the colour only deepened as he boldly challenged this woman.
“It’s fine,” I mumbled, gently tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt. The last thing I wanted was to cause a scene.
“No, it’s not fine. You’re badly injured and no one’s doing anything about it.”
The nurse looked taken aback at first, but then her features settled into a scowl, one to match his own.
“Listen here young man,” she started. My stomach churned as a wave of dizziness descended upon me, threatening to throw me off my feet. “What medical school have you been to that proclaims you educated enough to identify a bad injury? Hospitals have to follow procedure, and according to procedure the more severe cases get seen to first. I’m not putting your girlfriend at the top of the list because she’s complaining about a mild cut.”
I leaned heavily into this mysterious boy. It was either that or end up on the floor as my legs threatened to give out on me; the room had begun to spin in wide circles.
“A “mild cut”, huh?” He gently held up my injured hand for the nurse to see. Personally, I thought the blood dripping from the soaked cloth gave it a bit of a dramatic touch, but the nurse’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. It seemed she’d only just noticed me, the “girlfriend”. Her wide eyed gasp had me starting to panic. So did the fact that she jumped up and called for a doctor. I mean, I knew it wasn’t a mild cut, but was it really this serious? Before anyone could make another move she rushed out from behind the counter and ushered us towards the double doors.
I took a step and my leg buckled under my weight, the dizziness finally winning out. Mystery boy caught me before I hit the ground and hoisted me up into his arms. My face burned from embarrassment and I squirmed awkwardly. Not only had I created a scene, but now everyone was watching me being carried off into the E.R.
To avoid eye contact with any of the occupants in the waiting room I buried my face into his shoulder. Inhaling, I was shocked to find his sweatshirt smelled clean and fresh, and held a faint floral scent. I had expected it to reek of sweat and the coppery smell of blood, or whatever other substances that stained his clothes. I breathed in again, identifying the floral scent as jasmine. Most likely the lingering scent of the washing powder he used. I heard the double doors open and shut again behind us, letting me know it was safe to poke my head out of its hiding place. I was greeted with more of the plain white walls, and booths separated by curtains. Both walls and curtains started spinning around me, something my stomach detested. The nurse gestured at the second booth on the right and then scattered to find an available doctor. Mystery boy deposited me gently on the bed and stepped back slightly to look at me. It was then that I remembered he had his own injuries. He was even limping earlier.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, looking away from him.
“What?”
“You’re injured, and you had to carry me in here.”
“No. I’m fine.”
I spared a glance at him that was met with his ever present scowl. Did the guy ever smile?
Before I could ask him that the curtain whipped back and in walked a doctor, snapping on a pair of gloves.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Hendricks.” He spoke in a clear, crisp voice. Friendly but professional. He stepped up to the bed on my right side and took my hand in both of his, gently unwrapping it. “Well, what do we have here?” he asked with a frown.
“I cut myself on some glass,” I said lamely, repeating the same lines I’d said once tonight already.
“Really?” Dr. Hendricks asked, not sounding convinced at all.
“Yes.”
“Were you present?” he asked mystery boy. “You’re the boyfriend?”
“No, I wasn’t. And yes, my name’s Tyson.”
Ah, so mystery boy had a name. Tyson. I tried it out in my head, testing the syllables. It was a nice name, and seemed to suit him well.
“And your name miss?” the good doctor asked, pulling the last of my ruined sweater away and revealing a deep gash in my hand. One that was gushing a fair amount of blood, I might add.
“Um. Noah. Noah Duke.” The red liquid flowed freely from the wound, making me more than a little uneasy. “Um, is this normal? The amount of blood I’m losing?”
Dr. Hendricks examined the cut more closely, and his brow furrowed all over again.
“Well, you do seem to have lost a bit of blood, but once we get you stitched up you should be alright. Do you feel dizzy? Nauseated?”
I nodded yes on both counts and watched as he rummaged through a nearby cabinet. He came back seconds later holding a syringe. I cringed away from him automatically and a whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“Yes, I know. This is the worst part. And your cut is in such a sensitive place too.” He drew some sort of liquid from a bottle into the syringe and tapped it lightly. “But, I have to clean the wound, stitch it, and then dress it. Trust me, you’ll be a lot happier if it’s done while your hand is numb.”
I wasn’t convinced by a long shot. Truthfully, I would have been happier if I hadn’t had to come in the first place.
Dr. Hendricks, who could sense my growing apprehension, turned on Tyson.
“Maybe you could help her relax. Offer her some calming words?”
Tyson nodded, his face impassive and stepped up on my left side. Sliding his hand under my chin, he forced me to look up at him and away from what the doctor was doing.
“Come on,” he said, a scowl overtaking his handsome features. “Stop being a big baby. You’re going to be fine.”
Stop being a big baby? Those were his calming words? You’re going to be fine? I know he’s not my real boyfriend and all, more like a complete stranger, but still. A situation like this and that’s what he would say to his girlfriend? I opened my mouth to snap at him, to tell him to shove his calming words where the sun don’t shine, when a sharp pain permeated my hand and I yelped instead.
“Ouch!” I grabbed hold of Tyson‘s free hand and squeezed it hard. Several more stings followed, the sharp pains lingering. Finally the doctor declared the worst part “all over now” in a cheerful voice like I was some small child and brusquely but efficiently cleaned my wound before breaking out his suture kit.
Tyson said nothing as I continued to hold his hand, for which I was grateful for. I was not ready to let go. Not while Dr. Happy-go-lucky was hovering over me with a huge needle and thread. I know I couldn’t feel it, that my hand was numb. But it was still nice to have a comforting hand to hold. Even if the owner of said hand was more than a little aggravating.

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[Calypso]

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