I get back in line, going for something safer this time.
“Are you back for seconds?” the line cook, Jana, asks. She’s my favorite. She always gives me four pieces of bacon in the morning when I get breakfast here, even when I only order and pay for two.
“Actually, can I get a grilled cheese to go? Ava needs food,” I lie, mostly because I don’t want her thinking I didn’t like the food. They work hard here and I’m not an ass.
She smiles at me warmly as she writes my order on the bottom of my paper plate. “Of course, we will get that right out.”
Making my way down the line, I hit the water station. Maybe I’m extra dehydrated and that’s why I feel like crap.
Jana hollers my name when the sandwich comes out. I go to sit in a secluded corner, not wanting to deal with the breakroom. I bring the sandwich to my nose and sniff, seeing if this too will make me lose my cookies. But it doesn’t; in fact, I feel my mouth water again, but this time it’s a good reaction.
I find a seat in a chair secluded in the corner; usually I am a social butterfly, but the ER can be a bit overstimulating and sometimes I just need these thirty minutes to hear my own thoughts.
Opening the lid of the to-go container, I pull out my sandwich and take a bite, and my goodness, this is the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had. The only thing that would make it better is if they cut it from the corner instead of the middle, but beggars can’t be choosers. I inhale it faster than necessary, but since I already lost precious time, I need to go back to work.
When I sit down at my desk, it seems most of the chaos has calmed.
“So, what did I miss?” I look over to Ava, who has her legs propped up on the chair and her arms folded over her very pregnant belly. I’m willing to bet she pops within the week. She wanted to work up until she popped; the good news is ifit happens here, she can just walk herself over to labor and delivery.
“We discharged two while you were gone; we’re waiting on labs for bay four, but it does appear that there has been a break in the constant rain of patients.” She knocks on the wooden trim of our desk to ward off the bad juju. “How was lunch?”
“Weird, I think I’m having an aversion to fish for some reason. I walked down to the cafeteria; it was fish and chips day, which is normally my favorite, but I ended up getting sick.” I look to her, shivering again at the thought.
“Ugh, the smell of fish is so gross.” She scrunches her nose, as if nauseous at the thought of it.
I nod in agreement. “I couldn’t eat it, but I did eat the shit out of a grilled cheese. It was seriously the best one I've ever had. The crust was all crispy and the cheese was perfectly melted.” I have to stop describing it before I start drooling like a damn dog.
She pinches her face and purses her lips. “Have you had other nausea?”
I toss it around in my mind. “A little, I guess, but mostly while working.”
“Here, with all the gross smells?” she questions with a quirked brow.
“No, here with the short staff that leaves me lunchless until two, when my blood sugar has dropped to the depths of hell, leaving me hangry.” I level with her.
“Just want to throw out something, and don’t hate me for it.” She looks to me, asking for confirmation that I’m not going to be mad by tilting her head and raising her brows.
“I could never be mad at you for your sometimes harsh and hurtful honesty,” I joke.
“Truth hurts, baby. But I think you should consider another reason for the on-and-off nausea. Like pregnancy perhaps.”
“I’m on the pill.”
“And do you take it like you should?” she asks with a bit of sarcasm.
I changed my mind. I’m mad.
“This is stupid. There’s no way in hell I can be pregnant.” I spin in my chair and look at my computer, suddenly irrationally annoyed.
“Yeah, you didn’t say yes. I’m not saying you are. I’m just saying I would check if I were you. That was one of my biggest symptoms. It came and went, but when it came, it was awful. It’s gone now, replaced with peeing every time I sneeze and then wondering if it was pee or if my water broke. Did anything happen with Cameron that night?” She wags her brows.
With that, I burst out laughing. “No. It was a wonderful first date, but I haven’t seen him since. We’re supposed to meet up next weekend.” With my admission, she almost looks disappointed, which makes me laugh harder. “I’m sorry. But I really don’t think I am. But I do appreciate your concern. Now, go to lunch before you go into labor on your last shift with me.” I shoo her with my hand until she waddles out of the department.
The second she leaves, another patient is ready to be roomed and I’m left with no time to overthink.
Chapter 9
Aspen
