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My mother is formidable. She’s worse than my father when it comes to sweeping things under the rug, which usually means not embarrassing the family. Busting through the curtains like a linebacker, she took one look at me and lost it, swooning against Brian, who admirably held her up, considering she probably weighs more than he does.
“Margo said you refused to go with the squad.”
“Well, thank you, Margo,” I replied.
“Bella, this isn’t something to mess with. You saved a man’s life tonight and could have lost yours in the process. Pop’s ready to have a heart attack…”
“The nurse said he’ll be fine,” Brian said, patting her back.
“Still, it’s so emasculating for a man of George’s stature to collapse like that.”
“Ma, he’s flesh and bone,” I said.
I could hear him out in the corridor, shouting for me. “Bella, Bella are you okay? They said you were brought into emergency after all!”
He appeared through the curtains, still distraught, wearing a hospital gown with his khakis. In two long strides, he was at my stretcher, his head buried in my lap, sobbing again.
“Seriously?” I asked, patting the bald spot on his head. “Pop, didn’t we just go through this an hour ago? It’s why you’re here in the first place. You need to pull it together.”
“I’m so sorry. I was mean to you about not taking your nursing boards again.”
“That’s not the topic tonight, though, is it? I’m fine.”
“Actually, you’re not.” We looked up at a resident who appeared in the mix of people holding up my lab work. “Can I speak in front of all these people?” she asked.
“Well, that depends on what you’re going to tell me,” I said, wanting to slap her.
“Your labs are all out of whack.”
“From what?” Dale asked.
“It could be the stress response, all the cortisol pouring into her blood.”
They had a physiological discussion about my health like I wasn’t in the room, and I let them. I was actually sizing up the resident, wondering what size bra she wore.
“What’s the verdict, then?” Lillian asked. “Are you going to admit her?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, but I do want to give her IV fluids, and then she can be discharged with instructions.”
“What kind of instructions?” I asked.
“You need a couple of weeks of rest, Miss Roman.”
The words were out of her mouth just as Skippy came through the curtain.
“Bingo!” he shouted. “You’re staying home until you can bring a doctor’s permission slip to return.”
“That’s kind of severe,” Lillian said, glaring at him. “My daughter is the best thing that dump of yours has ever had.”
“This is true,” Skippy replied. “All the more reason she needs to take care of herself. We’ll talk about a promotion when you return.”
“I don’t want a promotion!” I cried. “I like the kiosk.”
“The hero has spoken,” Dale said, looking worried for me.
“Everyone, out,” the resident said, looking at me sidelong.
After the place had cleared out except for my roomies, the resident apologized. “It was unprofessional…”
