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Finally, it opened up, and I rushed out of it and toward her door. I didn’t have a key with me, I realized.
“Open your door. I’ll take a damn COVID test later, but I am staying with you. Your oxygen could drop. You need to be kept hydrated and fed.”
She laughed weakly then. “And you’re gonna do all that for me?”
“Yes. Now, open your door.”
She ended the call, and I waited. Just when I was about to call her back and threaten to go get a key and come in myself, the door opened, and she stepped back. She was wearing a face mask, a pair of sweatpants, and an oversize sweatshirt. It was a hundred degrees outside and pretty damn warm in her apartment.
How is she not burning up?
I stepped inside and immediately put my hand against her forehead. “You have a fever,” I told her.
“Did you miss the part where I told you I have COVID?” she asked.
I grabbed one side of the mask and pulled it off of her. “I’ve been vaccinated, and I’ve had a booster,” I said.
She sighed. “So have I.”
“I don’t care. You can’t breathe good enough as it is. You’re not wearing a damn mask,” I said.
She swayed then and reached out to grab my arm, and I went to catch her.
“I’m dizzy,” she muttered.
I bent down and tucked a hand under her knees, then swung her into my arms.
“Put me down,” she said in a hoarse whisper as her eyes closed.
“I will. As soon as I get you to your bed,” I told her. “When was the last time you ate?”
Her eyelids fluttered. “This morning, I think.” Then, she paused. “Oh, no, it was last night. I had some crackers.”
When I reached her room, I laid her down on the side of the bed that wasn’t as messy, then straightened the covers on the other side before moving her over and covering her up properly.
The cup beside her bed had very little water in it, or it was melted ice from something else she had been drinking.
“Lie there. I’ll be back in a moment,” I said, then headed for the kitchen.
I went straight to the fridge and opened the freezer to get ice. There was no ice in the maker, and it looked like there hadn’t been in a very long time. There was no sign of ice in the bucket. Closing the freezer, I glanced around and noticed four empty ice trays in her sink.
Why wasn’t she using the ice maker?
Jerking open the door to the fridge, I found a pitcher of water and was relieved that she had some that was cold. I filled her glass and found a new straw in the drawer under the microwave. Checking her cabinets and fridge, I found very little to take her to eat. I settled on crackers and peanut butter. I made several little sandwiches with the crackers and peanut butter, then put them on a plate and went back to her room with them.
Her eyes were closed when I walked in, but when I set the glass and plate down on the table beside her, she opened her eyes and looked at me.
“You barely have food,” I told her.
Then, I picked up the pillows on the floor and placed them behind her so that she could sit up and eat. Once she was adjusted and sitting up for the most part, I put the plate beside her and handed her the glass of water.
“I’m going to have some groceries delivered. Do you like soup? Chicken noodle? Tomato?” I asked.
She took a sip of the water, then looked down at the plate. “Chicken noodle is good,” she replied. “Or maybe just broth. I don’t have an appetite,” she replied. Her voice sounded weak.
“What doctor did you go to? Was it a good one? Where are your meds?” I asked as I looked around for bottles of something so I could read what they’d prescribed her myself.
“I went to the after-hours clinic. My meds are in the bathroom,” she said, pointing to the bathroom connected to her bedroom.
