“Sore. And embarrassed,” I admit.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t mean to start crying, but I’m feeling so overwhelmed and guilty, I can’t help it.
“Don’t be silly, it’s not like you did it on purpose, Muffin,” Rhys says, shaking his head at me.
The curtain twitches at the end of the cubicle, and a young doctor steps in. She doesn’t look up from her tablet as she walks towards the end of the trolley I’m still strapped to. Her long blonde hair is curled perfectly, a contrast to my frizzy mousey hair, which must look horrendous right now, given the circumstances.
“Hello, I’m Dr Price. Can you confirm your name and date ofbirth, please?”
“Matilda Simmons. My date of birth is… erm…”
I can’t remember my birthday. Why can’t I remember my birthday?
“It’s okay, take your time,” Dr Price says gently.
She must think I’m an absolute moron to not be able to remember something so simple. More tears start to fall as I desperately try to remember even the month.
“October!” I call out triumphantly. “Third.”
“Thank you,” Dr Price says, typing it into her tablet. “Okay, so the paramedics tell me you fell from some gym equipment and bumped your head, is that right?”
“I think so. I don’t really remember much. But my head and chest hurt a lot.”
“Okay. We’ll get some scans arranged and take it from there. A nurse will come and take you when they’re ready for you. In the meantime, I’ll prescribe some stronger painkillers. I’ll be back once we have the results of your tests.”
“Should I stay with her?” Rhys asks the doctor.
“That’s up to you. She’ll be in and out for her scans, and her painkillers might make her sleepy.”
“Sounds like I might as well go home, then,” Rhys says, more to himself than to me. “That’s okay with you, isn’t it, Muffin?”
“Oh, I…” I’d expected him to stay with me. That’s what husbands are supposed to do, isn’t it? Take care of the wife they love?
“There’s no point in me hanging around in these uncomfortable chairs if I don’t have to, is there? I’ll go home for a bit and come back once you have some news, okay?” He leans down and kisses my head, which I realise is incredibly sore.
Dr Price holds the curtain open for him. “I’ll show you out.”
I’m left alone, strapped to an uncomfortable trolley, with my head pounding and eyes burning, and feeling utterly abandoned.
The next few hours go by in a blur. A nurse who introduces himself as Hulk, a nickname given to him due to his sheer size, apparently, is assigned to me. He unstraps me from the trolley and helps me into a slightly less uncomfortable hospital bed, then sits on the end, almost tipping it over under his weight. He cleans the wound on my head as best he can and spends what feels like hours asking me question after question about my medical history and what led to my injury.
“Do you get dizzy regularly, pet, or was this a one-off?”
“I’ve been a little lightheaded recently.”
“Any idea why?”
“Not sure, really.” I don’t have it in me to face a lecture about extreme dieting, so it’s easier to lie.
“Any chance you’re pregnant?” he asks carefully.
I snort. “Absolutely none.”
“Okay, any changes in diet, then?” Hulk takes my pause as answer enough. “Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment.
