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Regardless, Connor won the hospital visit argument. I was too tired, and my head pounded too intensely for me to put up much of a fight.
So, now I sat in the chilled hospital room, with a nurse bringing me my discharge paperwork and prescriptions. They’d given me five stitches to my forehead, and some pain medicine to help with the recovery.
I knew Connor was still in the waiting room, and the biggest wave of embarrassment flooded my mind thinking about facing him. Not only did I faint in front of him, but I did it in the middle of his work event. I passed out and bled inside of a multi-million-dollar home in front of dozens of people.
There were so many days I wished I wasn’t me.
That day was high on the list.
“I’m going to need you to be more careful with yourself, okay sweetheart? If you ever start to feel lightheaded, find a close seat. Or, lean against a wall and lower yourself to the ground. Eating enough can help with the dizzy spells, too. And try not to take your heart medicine on an empty stomach, okay? And don’t forget to follow up with your primary doctor.” The nurse spoke to me as if I were her own child, filled with nothing but care and concern.
“I will, thank you.”
She smiled and squeezed my hand. “Of course, honey. You take care of yourself.”
Over the past two years, I was quick to learn that nurses were never appreciated enough for what they did. To them, I was nothing but a stranger each and every time, but they treated me as if I were their own family. They tamed my fear when it ran rapid.
“Come on,” she said smiling. “Let me walk you out to the front lobby.”
23
Connor
I hated hospitals. Especially emergency rooms. They always reminded me of the time I’d spent in them as a youth, waiting for my mom to come out okay. No matter what, she’d never allow me in the back room with her until the doctors made it clear she was okay. Mom worried about scaring me too early on with her first go at cancer.
The second time around, I was a teenager and old enough to know what was going on—but Mom still didn’t allow me in the back. Instead, she always made sure I had cash in my pocket for the hospital vending machines. It was due to that time in my life that I vowed to always have cash handy. That afternoon, I was thankful for that as I waited for Aaliyah to come out from behind those two automatic doors that led people to the back for examinations.
I’d hit up the vending machine and emptied it of all the bags of Cheetos. The items looked as if they hadn’t been changed out since the eighties, but lucky enough for me, the chips tasted fine as day.
When Aaliyah came out from the back, she thanked the nurse practitioner profusely, then thanked the receptionist repeatedly, and she thanked the other receptionist nonstop, because that was who Aaliyah was as a person—she was thankful, even on the days when she had a million reasons not to be.
I stood from my chair the second she turned my way, and a small smile curved her lips as she nodded me over. It was so good to see her doing okay. When she’d blacked out, I had been terrified that she wouldn’t be all right. She’d managed to hit her head when she fell straight onto the corner of the nearby coffee table.
“Now, that medicine they gave you will make you a little loopy,” the nurse said to Aaliyah before glancing my way. “Are you the one in charge of getting her home safe tonight?”
“I am.”
“Good.” The nurse placed her hand on Aaliyah’s forearm and squeezed it lightly. “And thank you again, Aaliyah, for the prayer for my son. It means a lot to me that you took the time to do that.”
“Of course, Janet. I hope he aces his audition.” Aaliyah beamed. “Nice meeting you, too, Randy!” Aaliyah waved to the other nurse. “Cheetos?” she asked as I poured the remaining chips into my mouth from the third bag.
I crumpled up the bag then pulled out the fourth—and last—bag that was tucked under my arm. I held it out to her.
Her button nose crinkled up, and she shook her head. “No, thank you. I hate Cheetos.”
And just like that, the perfect woman revealed her first flaw.
“I think it’s very rude of you to make such a harsh comment,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “Cheetos are the chips of all chips.”
“That’s not true. They don’t even make the top three list of chips.”
“Okay, so what are the top three?”
Aaliyah’s brows lowered, and she bit her bottom lip as she thought. “Okay, first is Doritos, obviously, then Ruffles Sour Cream and Cheddar, followed closely by Fritos.”
