The nurse snorts.
Nomi’s eyes brighten. “Junior!”
“Is this normal?” I turn to the nurse. “This amount of…inebriation?” I whisper the last word. I’ve never done an exploratory procedure like a colonoscopy; the anesthesia used on ER patients is far more heavy duty, and I have zero idea what to expect.
“She’s on propofol, the drug that killed Michael Jackson.” The nurse lifts an eyebrow. “Yes, this is normal.”
Nomi holds both hands out to me. “Julian.”
My worries melt into relief. “That’s it, baby.”
“She’s gonna be loopy for a while,” Mean Nurse says, handing me Nomi’s clothes. “Help her with the buttons, Junior.”
The nurse pulls the curtain closed around us, and the fact that the heart is a muscle has never been so clear to me. Sitting in the waiting room, unable to see Nomi, unable to help or protect her, my heart clenched in worry, every beat an effort without knowing she was okay. But now, as she leans forward on her bed to wrap her arms around my neck, my heart unclenches in degrees, like a fist prepared to fight for her finally allowed to relax.
“Oh, Nomi,” I whisper into her hair, almost drunk with relief that I have her in my arms, safe. It gives me new perspective for all the patients’ families I had so little time and sympathy for.“It’s just a procedure,”I can remember saying.“The risk is less than two percent.”Two percent! As if two times out of a hundred aren’t terrifying odds when faced with losing the person you love the most in this world. The person who makes it all make sense for you. Who makesyoumake sense to you. As if that wouldn’t be the most profound loss a person could experience.
God, I was such an idiot before I fell in love.
“How are you feeling?” I pull back enough to scan her beautiful face.
“Like I had the best nap of my life,” Nomi says dreamily. “And like I want to—” She leans toward my ear, as if she means to whisper, but says, quite loudly, “—fuck.”
She slides her parted lips over my earlobe, skating down the planes of my neck.
“Nomi, youhaveto stop giving me erections in medical environments.” I groan, running my hands gently down her back to the ties of her gown to undo them.
“Never!” She shimmies out of the gown, presenting herself topless liketa-da!
“I’ve got to get you dressed, nowstopthat.” I try to avert my eyes as Nomi runs her palms lightly over her breasts. I encase her quickly in her pajama shirt, and she wriggles suggestively. I give her my sternest tone. “Stop it.”
Her eyes dilate, excited.
Dammit, shelikesmy stern tone!
She looks down at the pajama prison I’ve wrapped her in, and her flirty face transforms into a giantawww!“You brought my lucky pajamas! How did you know?”
“They’re covered in Snoop Dogg and Martha Stewart faces.” I sniff, willing my erection to back off and read the goddamn room. “They’re objectively auspicious.”
“So smart.” She smiles, preening for me as she lets me button her up. “You’remyvaledictorian, Julian D’Angelo.”
And fuck if I don’t swoon.
After I get Nomi dressed, we chat briefly with Dr. Rashad, Nomi’s new GI specialist who came highly recommended from my peers at Philly Gen. She’s open-minded, focused on the latest research, and versed in many different approaches to treating IBD, not just the biologics route.Dr. Rashad has been great so far and got Nomi in for a comprehensive combination colonoscopy and endoscopy within a week of Nomi’s call. Seeing her sit attentively at Nomi’s side as she patiently reviews her preliminary findings with a clearly intoxicated woman makes me feel hopeful that Nomi will finally get the care she needs.
And if she doesn’t, I’ll be there to help her find the doctor who will.
“I’m surprised and impressed at the state of your colon,” Dr. Rashad says, which has to be the weirdest compliment I’ve ever heard. “While there is inflammation suggesting that you’re in an active flare, for you to have had Crohn’s for so long and with so little long-term damage to the tissue is really miraculous.” She smiles kindly at Nomi. “You’ve done a great job taking care of yourself, Nomi.”
To Dr. Rashad’s credit, she onlyslightlyflinches when Nomi throws her arms around her neck and tells her she loves her.
“I’ll follow up tomorrow with a full report after you sleep this off, okay?” Dr. Rashad turns to me. “Nomi may be uncomfortable as the anesthesia wears off. She should drink lots of fluids and rest. No majoractivitiestonight.”
I blush furiously.
“There will be lots of gas,” Mean Nurse says as she reappears within our curtain. She smiles at me. “Lots.”
“Excuse me, but how far do you live from Sparrow Nook, New Jersey?” I rub my chin. “And would you be interested in a family clinic position?”
