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Hannah: “A coworker who took him to the hospital.” She adds the winky face emoji and then kissy lips.
Me: “I couldn’t very well let him die in the restaurant, and I had no idea how bad it might get. Speaking of which, I should probably check on him.”
Hannah: “We want details later.” The other girls chime in with their agreement.
I send a thumbs up emoji because sending words might start another conversation and I don’t want that. Tucking my phone in my pocket, I make my way to the nurse’s desk. “Hey, is there any update on Derek Davis?” I ask.
Without glancing up at me, she taps a few keys on her computer. “Are you family?”
“Uh, no, I’m his coworker, but I’m the one who brought him in.”
“Then I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to wait. I can’t discuss his medical condition with anyone but family.”
Medical condition? Is it worse than I thought? I thank the woman and head back to my chair, shooting off an email to Philip to let him know we probably won’t make it back to the office today. Thankfully, we have a little leeway for the next few weeks while we work on this promotion, but it’s never a good idea to just ghost your employer. With that taken care of, I curl into the chair and open my ereader app. Since I seem to have time, I might as well read one of the books that has been filling my TBR list.
CHAPTER8
Derek
Humiliation isa word I’m intimately acquainted with but one that hasn’t defined me for several years. Not since high school, but it is the perfect word for how I’m feeling right now. Not only do I sound like an idiot trying to answer the nurse’s questions with my swollen tongue, but she’s asked me to remove my shirt for the examination and a possible allergy test. I can’t remember the last time I removed my shirt around another person. I don’t even get in a pool without a t-shirt on. Although, actually I don’t get in a pool period. Too many people crowding the area and spewing their germs. Plus, there’s a reason that sign ‘Welcome to our ool. Notice there’s no p in it. Let’s keep it that way’ exists. Too many people getting too comfortable in the water. Or lazy. It’s probably more out of laziness. Reluctantly, I remove the shirt and allow her to examine me.
When she finishes, she sits on the stool and stares up at me. “So, can you tell me where you ate lunch? Perhaps I can pull up their menu and we can narrow down the culprits.” The nurse smiles at me but I can tell she is frustrated. I’m not the best patient, but then I didn’t ask to be a patient at all.
“Thabai Thai,” I say, struggling to speak around my swollen tongue. Thankfully, she appears to understand me and taps quickly on the computer.
“And what did you eat?”
“Cucumba salath.”
“Cucumber salad? Well, that has few ingredients, so that should help. Have you had cucumbers before?”
I nod. It’s a staple in my diet, but that’s more than I want to try to say right now.
“Okay, how about carrots?”
I nod again.
“Peanuts?”
Another nod.
“Lime?”
I start to nod and then pause. Have I had lime? I can’t remember ever buying it. I don’t like oranges, and I’ve never tried grapefruits or lemons. Are there other citrus fruits? “I’m not thure.”
The nurse smiles. “Well, I’m going to guess you have a citrus allergy. It’s pretty rare but manageable. I’ll inform the doctor and we’ll get you started on treatment. He’ll probably want to do some blood work as well.”
As she leaves, I lie back on the bed and wonder what Katie is doing. Did she leave me? Surely not. She may lack order and structure, but she doesn’t seem mean. Plus, she has my car, so she has to know I’d have no way to get home, but then I remember the eight ball and sit up so fast my head spins. That eight ball doesn’t seem to like me, and if she asks it…No, she wouldn’t. I’m about to head out to check for myself when the door opens and the doctor enters.
“I see you’re having a bit of an allergic reaction,” he says, scanning his tablet and then glancing up at me. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in my puffy face and swollen lips. I haven’t looked at my face yet, but it feels a lot like it did when Bryce beat me up in middle school, so I imagine it looks similar. Of course, my lips weren’t burning then nor was my tongue swollen. “The nurse thinks it’s a citrus allergy. Let’s get you some epinephrine to bring down the swelling and then we’ll do some bloodwork. I think we can skip the allergy test since you’d eaten all the other ingredients. You can go ahead and put your shirt back on.”
Relieved, I pull it back on, but before I can relax, the doctor has stabbed my thigh with something. I jump, but before I can react, my heart begins beating faster. However, shortly after that, the heat cools on my face, and I swear I can feel my tongue shrinking.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.
“Better.” Thank goodness my voice sounds normal again.
“Good, we’ll get you on some medication to bring down the rest of the swelling. I’ll have the nurse come back in to draw blood, and we’re going to get you a prescription for one of these.” He waves the EpiPen. “An allergy to citrus fruits is pretty rare. You really had no idea?”
