Chapter 23
AN: Carrie, you ROCK! Huge
thanks for the ideas and info! Also
thanks to Bianca for helping me decide which lyrics to use at the end.
Nick hated
hospitals. He always had, but now more
than ever, and Tampa General was no exception.
Other than meeting Claire, nothing good had ever happened to him there,
and as he hobbled slowly into the Emergency Room, the all-too familiar sights
and sounds and the smell of antiseptic brought back a whirlwind of bad
memories. He thought about how he had
been wheeled into this very ER not even seven months ago, unable to breathe and
coughing up blood from a rapidly growing tumor in his lung. He’d never been more terrified in his life,
and even now, he involuntarily shuddered at the mere memory of it.
Claire
looked over at him. “Are you okay?” she
asked quietly.
“Fine,” he
muttered. “I just hate this place, is
all.”
“Heh…
you’re not alone there,” she said dryly, reaching out to squeeze his
shoulder. He gave her a tight-lipped
smile and made his way past a packed waiting room to the admit desk, where two
desk clerks sat half-hidden behind computer screens, one typing a mile a minute
on his keyboard while the other reached for a ringing phone, answering with a
curt “ER.”
Dodging the
harassed-looking nurses that bustled back and forth from the desk area, Nick
stepped up to the clerk that was typing and cleared his throat loudly. When the man did not even look up, he tried
again, this time adding an “Um, excuse me?
Sir?”
The clerk
looked up briefly, then back down, and with his eyes fixed on the monitor in
front of him, said robotically, “Take a seat in the waiting room, and the
triage nurse will get to you as soon as possible, sir.”
Picturing
the crowded waiting room he had just walked by, Nick sighed and threw Claire a
look of annoyance. “Sir,” he tried
again, “I’m sorry to bother you, but is there anywhere more private we could
wait? See, I’m-“
The young
female clerk on the other side of the man Nick was speaking to suddenly slammed
down the phone and leapt to her feet, looking at Nick with wide eyes. “You’re Nick Carter!” she hissed in a
whisper, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Hold on just a minute, Mr. Carter, I’m sure we can find a room for you. Hey, Jen?
Jen!” Nick glanced behind him to
see that she was addressing a short, brown-haired nurse, who came over
quickly. “Are there any exam rooms
open? Or curtain areas, at the very
least?”
“I think
the patient in Exam 4 was just discharged,” replied the nurse, Jen. “Want me to check?”
“Yes, would
you? Mr. Carter here needs a room as
soon as possible,” the clerk said, motioning to Nick.
Nick saw
recognition flicker in the eyes of the petite nurse as she looked Nick up and
down, but she stayed professional, simply nodding and hurrying off to see about
the room. She was back in less than two
minutes. “Okay, we have a room ready for
you, Mr. Carter,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Come with me.”
“Wow,”
commented Claire to Nick, as they followed Jen down the hall, “talk about
service. I’m impressed.”
He flashed
her a momentary grin. “Oh you know it,
baby – it’s all VIP treatment here.
Cause I’m special.”
“You’re
somethin’ all right…” Claire scoffed, as Jen stopped in the doorway of a small
examining room and held the door, ushering them in.
“Go ahead
and have a seat on the table there, Ni- Mr. Carter,” said the nurse, pointing
to the padded exam table in the center of the room, which Nick obediently
boosted himself onto, handing the crutches off to Claire. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”
***
After Jen
had asked Nick a few questions and looked at the blister, she brought in a
doctor, another young woman, who, looking slightly tense, introduced herself as
Dr. Yoder. “I’m, uh… just going to take
a look at your leg here,” she said, pulling up a stool and taking a seat. “Jen?
Could you get his vitals while I’m doing this?”
Butterflies
fluttered nervously in Nick’s stomach as the doctor began to poke and prod at
his blister, while the nurse took his temperature, pulse, and blood pressure –
all unnecessary, in his opinion. It was
just a stupid blister. Still, sitting
there in the Emergency department of the hospital, he couldn’t help but feel a
little nervous. Too many times, he had
been behind these walls, thinking there was nothing seriously wrong with him,
only to find out there was.
And this
young doctor was doing nothing to alleviate his fears. He noticed that her eyes kept wandering from
his stump to his face, when she thought he was not looking. Every time their eyes happened to meet, they
would both quickly look away – her back down, and him over to Claire. By the second or third time it happened,
Claire was looking down at the doctor with one eyebrow raised, a look of
skepticism pressed into her features.
Nick was just wondering if there was any way he could request a
different doctor without insulting the one he had, who had just snuck another
glance at him. Was she always like this
with patients, he wondered, or was she just starstruck, nervous because of who
she was treating?
He wished
she could be like Dr. Kingsbury, the only doctor he really liked (as much as
you can like a cancer doctor anyway), who was too old to have any interest in
him that way.
“His temp’s
a little high, Dr. Yoder, 99.5 degrees.”
Shaken out
of his thoughts, Nick started a bit; he hadn’t even realized he was running a
fever, if even a slight one. Dr. Yoder
paused her examination to look up at him.
“How long have you been running a fever, Mr. Carter?”
“I… I, uh,
didn’t even know I had one,” Nick fumbled.
“I feel fine, honestly.”
“And you
told Jen you’ve had this since Saturday, is that right?”
“Yes,”
answered Nick. “Um… is there something
wrong?” Now his palms were beginning to
sweat. He wanted to reach for Claire’s
hand, but he kept his hands folded tightly in his lap, not wanting her to know
that he was nervous. She’d made this all
sound so simple, nothing to worry about.
“Well… what
you have here is not a blister; it’s an ulcer, or a pressure sore. It was probably caused by overusing your
prosthetic leg when you were running on it the other day.”
“Okay…”
Nick said slowly, digesting this information, which was hardly anything he
didn’t already know. He didn’t care what
the stupid sore was called, and he already knew full well what had caused it –
now all he wanted to know was how to get rid of it!
Going on,
the doctor added, “On top of that… it looks like you have an infection. It could be cellulitis, which is a deep
infection of the skin. You have the
classic signs – pain, redness, warmth, and swelling.”
“What do
you do for that?” Nick asked, a little uneasy.
He glanced quickly at Claire and then followed her gaze back to the
doctor. “Antibiotics?” he proposed
hopefully, remembering what Claire had told him earlier.
“Well…
antibiotics are the standard course of treatment for a bacterial infection, but
I don’t know for sure that the cellulitis – if that’s what it is – was caused
by bacteria. Because your temperature is
a little above normal and because of your, uh… medical history… I’d like to run
some tests before I prescribe anything.”
Nick’s
shoulders slumped at the mention of running ‘tests.’ ‘Tests,’ he had learned, were never pleasant
and almost always uncomfortable, whether he was being poked with a needle or
rolled into a loud machine that made him claustrophobic. “What kind of tests?” he asked weakly. If she said she would need to do a bone
marrow to figure out what kind of infection he had, he was out of there.
“I’ll just
need to get a blood sample, and then I’ll have the lab run a few different
kinds of tests on it,” replied Dr. Yoder.
To the nurse, she added, “Jen, order a CBC and blood culture… and… oh,
might as well add a BUN and creatinine too.”
Nick did not
miss the way the nurse’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. But Jen nodded and replied, “Sure, Doctor,”
writing down the orders on the chart she’d started for Nick.
“I’ll let
Jen here draw your blood, and I’ll go put a rush on those tests so you won’t have
to wait long. I’ll be back to see you
later,” promised Dr. Yoder and left quickly.
Nick shook
his head after her, and when Jen started to follow her out the door, mumbling
something about coming back in a few minutes with supplies, he reached out and
caught her arm. “Excuse me, miss, I
don’t mean to be rude, but…” He paused
and checked to make sure the doctor was gone and the door was closed, then went
on, motioning to the door, “Does she know what she’s doing?”
Jen flashed
him a quick smile. “Dr. Yoder is one of
our best residents,” she nodded. “She’s
just being thorough.”
“Yeah, but…
I dunno, she seemed kind of unsure of herself.”
Realizing he’d probably said too much, he shrugged and added quickly,
“It was probably just me. I’m sorry.”
Jen smiled
again, awkwardly this time. “Oh, don’t
worry about it. And don’t worry about
her competency either – she’s normally a lot more composed around patients, but
what can I say…” She rested her hand
lightly on his shoulder. “It’s not
everyday we get a Backstreet Boy in here.”
She winked, and Nick had to try hard to keep from rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to do the
blood draw, okay?”
“Okay,”
Nick echoed flatly, watching as she, too, left the room, closing the door
quietly behind her. As soon as she was
gone, he looked over at Claire. He
didn’t even have to say anything; she just knew what he was thinking and
immediately started snickering. As she
put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, he rolled his eyes the way
he’d been wanting to a minute earlier.
“Okay, don’t get me wrong here,” he said, “I love my fans. But somehow I don’t really like the idea of
my doctor being one.”
“I know,”
Claire said, still giggling. “But hey, I
guess it could have been worse.”
“How?”
“Well…” Claire smirked. “She could have been an ‘N Sync fan.”
***
Jen
returned with a bin of supplies, which she assembled on a small, stainless
steel tray. “I’m just going to do a
simple blood draw from your arm,” she said to Nick.
He held out
his left arm obediently. “There’s a good
vein here,” he said dully, pointing out a visible bit of blue on the inside of
his elbow. That was usually the one they
drew blood from when they could.
“Oh, okay…
great,” said Jen, looking momentarily surprised.
“He’s used
to this,” Claire explained, reaching for Nick’s right hand and giving it a
squeeze. He smiled a little and squeezed
her hand back.
The nurse
nodded knowingly. “Well, that’s always a
plus for us nurses, not having to hunt for a vein.” She gave Nick a quick smile, although he
couldn’t help but notice the sympathy in her eyes as she did so. He returned the smile, tight-lipped, not
wanting her pity. It only made him more
uncomfortable than he already was.
Jen swapped
the crook of his arm with a cotton ball doused in antiseptic, and the strong,
unmistakable smell of it filled his nostrils once again, making him feel
momentarily queasy. Then she strapped a
thick, elastic band around his upper arm, and he looked away, waiting while she
prepared the syringe she was going to slide into his vein. Even after two years of being stuck with
needles in a routine basis, he refused to watch. He looked at Claire instead, and their eyes
met. She gripped his hand, and he held
her gaze, as he felt the sharp prick of the needle as it poked through the
sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow.
He winced, but held his arm still until Jen carefully retracted the
needle. Then he let out his breath with
a soft whoosh, while Jen took the elastic tourniquet off of his arm and
covered the pinprick site with a cotton ball.
Only then did he look, letting go of Claire’s hand so that he could
press down on the cotton ball until his blood clotted beneath it.
Jen hung
around for a few minutes, cleaning up, and secured a band-aid over the cotton
ball before she left to take his blood sample to the lab, promising she’d be
back to check on him soon. As soon as
she was gone, Nick leaned back and rubbed his throbbing arm briefly before
reaching for Claire’s hand again. Intertwining
his fingers with hers, he muttered, “Well, that’s always a pain in the
ass. It better not take too long to get
the results, or I’m outta here.”
“Sorry,”
Claire said. “I didn’t know they were
gonna have to draw blood for this.”
“It’s not
your fault,” he mumbled. “Probably a
good thing you made me come. I guess it
was worse than I thought.” He gave her a
wry smile. “Looks like I fucked myself
up pretty good, huh?”
She looked
back at him with compassion and said, “Aw, baby… it’s gonna be okay. I know this sucks, but once they give you
some antibiotics or whatever, it’ll heal, and you’ll be back on your feet. Maybe even back to running, as long as you
promise not to go try any marathons like you were apparently doing it your
backyard the other day.” She flashed him
a smile that was full of mischief, and he chuckled, half-regretting that day,
because of what he’d done to himself, but still proud of himself despite that.
“Sure,” he
agreed. “Give me a few days to train,
and we can race.” He winked, and she let
out a snort of laughter.
“Ha, fat
chance. You can race all you want,
buddy, but there’s no way you’re gonna get me out running around in
ninety-degree heat. I’ll stick to a
treadmill inside, where it’s air-conditioned.”
“You’re a
pansy,” he kidded her, and she retorted by sticking her tongue out at him. Ah, how mature they were. He grinned, but quickly sobered when another
thought came to him. “Hey, Claire?”
“What?”
“What if
it’s not healed by Saturday, and I can’t wear my leg? I’m not gonna be much help moving you in…”
“Don’t
worry about that,” she said quickly. “My
dad and Kyle are coming to help, and Howie is too, right?” Nick nodded.
“Then we should be fine. The four
of us can handle it if you’re still stuck on crutches. You can just help me figure out where to put
stuff, okay?”
“’Kay,” he
said, nodding again, but inside, he couldn’t help but feel bad. She was the one giving up her
apartment to move into his place, and now he might not even be able to
help her with the move. It was hard not
to feel worthless sometimes, especially in times like these. Being laid up like this, unable to use the
prosthetic leg that had become the next best thing to his real one, reminded
him that he was “disabled.” He never
used that word to describe himself, because he hated thinking of himself that
way, but… well, technically, it was true, wasn’t it?
At that
thought, he sighed to himself. Claire
immediately looked over. “Whatcha
thinking about?” she asked, squeezing his hand.
“Nothing…
just about how much my life sucks sometimes,” he muttered.
Claire’s
eyebrows furrowed, creases appearing in her smooth forehead as she frowned
slightly. “Don’t say that, Nick,” she
chided him softly. “I know it’s hard
sometimes, but be grateful that you’re here to enjoy all the good things in
life.”
He knew she
was right. He should be lucky to be
alive. And he was, most of the
time. But it was hard not to get
depressed every now and then, when he thought about all the horrible things
that had happened to him, and all the things that still could. Yet, when he looked back at her, his eyes
absorbing her appearance, seeing her as he had the night he’d found out about
the lung tumor, when he’d never been so glad to see her face - pinched, drawn,
and beautiful – he knew that the good eclipsed the bad. For she was the good; she was
the reason for living.
He let
himself smile a little. “I know,” he
replied, his voice slightly hoarse, and squeezed her hand back before bringing
it up to his mouth. He kissed the back
of it lightly, savoring the softness of her skin on his dry lips. “I am grateful.”
For once in my life
I have someone who needs me
Someone I’ve needed for so long
For once unafraid
I can go where life leads me
Somehow I know I’ll be strong
For once I can touch
What my heart used to dream of
Long before I knew
Someone warm like you
Would make my dream come true
For once in my life
I won’t let sorrow hurt me
Not like it’s hurt me before
For once I have something
I know won’t desert me
I’m not alone anymore
For once I can say
This is mine, you can’t take it
As long as I know
I have love I can make it
For once in my life
I have someone who needs me
- “For Once In My Life” by The
Temptations
***
“You can get a doctor to look at it, he’ll
tell you it’s infected and write a prescription for antibiotics and tell you
how to take care of it, and we’ll be on our way.”
It had been
just after five in the evening when Claire had said those words. Now it was going on nine, according to the clock
on the wall of the exam room in which she and Nick had been sitting all night.
He was
annoyed. She was annoyed.
Not with
each other, just with the whole situation.
The nurse, Jen, had been back a few times to check on him, promising
that the results for at least some of the blood tests that had been ordered
would be back soon, and then the doctor would stop by to talk to him.
Soon.
‘Soon’
didn’t necessarily mean the same thing in the medical world as it did in the
real world; this Claire had learned after being thrust unwillingly into the
former five years ago. Still, she hadn’t
expected that she and Nick would be spending their entire evening in the
ER. She hoped he didn’t resent her for
convincing him to go. He really
shouldn’t; after all, she’d been right about one thing – that his “blister” was
a little more serious than he had made it out to be. Like it or not, she felt they’d both made a
good decision by coming.
“I can’t
believe how long this is taking,” Nick grumbled for at least the third time in
the last ten minutes. Claire had given
up responding; she simply patted his hand and glanced at the clock. 8:57.
So much for packing tonight, she thought. They wouldn’t get back to his house before
9:30, at the very earliest, and she knew she wasn’t just going to drop him off
at the door and head home. After all
this, he could use a little pampering.
And by the time she did get back to her apartment, it would be time for
bed; after all, she had to work in the morning.
She could start on the packing tomorrow.
The door to
the room opened with a soft click, and she and Nick both looked up
expectantly. She smiled in relief when
it was Nick’s doctor who walked into the room.
“Hi, Nick,”
said Dr. Yoder, smiling briefly, an awkward smile. “Sorry for the wait, but I have some of your
bloodwork back. Your white count is
high, which indicates an infection. I
won’t know exactly what the infection is until I get the rest of your results,
which won’t be available for another few days, but assuming it’s bacterial in
nature, I’m going to prescribe an antibiotic called Keflex.”
Claire
looked over at Nick, thinking, Didn’t I tell you?
He
immediately met her eyes, and she was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking
too. Why couldn’t she just have
prescribed an antibiotic called Keflex when I first got here? Claire was wondering the same thing, because
it certainly didn’t seem as if they’d gained any new information from the blood
draw, so far anyway. So his white count was
high – duh. That’s what happened when a
person had an infection, which Nick obviously did, judging from the swollen
redness around the sore on his skin.
Thank you, Doctor Obvious.
“You need
to be closely monitored while on this antibiotic,” the resident was now saying,
“so I’d like you to fill the prescription and take it for two days to begin
with. Then you need to come back here,
say… sometime Wednesday or Thursday… Thursday morning at the latest… so that I can
examine you again and make sure the antibiotic is working. The rest of your bloodwork should be done by
then too.”
Nick was not
going to like that. One look in his
direction confirmed Claire’s suspicions, when she saw his eyes narrow and his
mouth open, as if he were about to protest.
Jumping in quickly to head him off, Claire spoke up, “I’m off Thursday
and Friday, Nick, remember? So I can
bring you in Thursday morning if you want.”
Nick’s
shoulders slumped in defeat, but he nodded.
“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly.
Looking at the doctor, he asked, “Thursday morning – that’ll work?”
“That’ll be
fine,” replied Dr. Yoder. “I’ll let the
admit desk know you’re coming in.”
Less than
ten minutes later, they were on their way out the door, Nick hobbling along on
his crutches, Claire holding onto a piece of paper containing the prescription
the doctor had written for him.
According to her notes, he was to take the antibiotic twice a day for
ten days, unless she told him otherwise when he came back for a check on
Thursday. Claire swung by a Walgreen’s
to fill the prescription on the way home and was just pulling into Nick’s
driveway when ten o’clock rolled around.
“That
sucked,” Nick muttered, letting Claire hold the door for him as he hobbled into
the house.
“I know,”
she said – he’d already told her as much at least twice in the car. “But at least you got an antibiotic for
it. That’ll clear it up, and you’ll be
back on your feet in no time.”
“It
better,” he replied. “I didn’t sit in
that place for four hours and let them stick me for nothing.” Setting his crutches aside, he sank wearily
onto the couch and inspected the inside of his elbow. “Look,” he said, gingerly poking at the
band-aid with his index finger, “it’s already bruising.”
Sure
enough, when Claire sat down beside him, she could see the skin around the
band-aid starting to change colors.
“Aww,” she cooed, unable to keep from smiling at the sad puppy face he
was making. “You poor baby. Shall I kiss it and make it better?”
“No… but
you can kiss me here,” he said, pointing to his smirking lips.
She smiled;
how could she resist? “Whatever works,”
she replied with a shrug, sliding her arms around his neck and leaning forward
to place a tender kiss on his pouty lips.
“That better?” she smiled, as she slowly pulled back.
He returned
the smile. “A little. Now, how about that backrub you promised me?”
***
It was late
by the time Claire got home on Monday night, and Tuesday morning found her
exhausted from lack of sleep. By the
time work ended on Tuesday afternoon, she wanted nothing more than to crawl
into bed and take a nap, but she decided sleep would have to wait. She had to get a start on packing, or
she would regret it by the end of the week.
She worked steadily for a few hours, stopping only to heat up a TV
dinner for herself. Just as she
finishing the last of her bland dinner, Nick called.
“You wanna
come over?” he asked on the phone, and she could hear the boredom in his
hopeful tone. Poor thing, he’d been
stuck at home all day again; no wonder he was bored. Unfortunately, she was going to have to turn
him down. If she went over there now,
she knew she’d end up staying for hours, and she had to get to bed early that
night.
“I can’t,
Nick,” she said reluctantly. “I need to
do some more work around here, and then I’m going to bed. I’m really tired.”
“Aww...
c’mon, baby,” he pleaded, the whine starting to come into his voice. “You can sleep over here if you want.”
“Nick… no,”
she repeated. “You know I’d like to, but
I can’t tonight. You enjoy having your
bed all to yourself, because in a few days you’ll be stuck sharing it with
me. And you know I’m a cover-hog.”
He
chuckled. She smiled at the sound. “I know,” he said. “You’re also a roller. And a kicker.”
She
giggled, knowing he was right. She would
always find herself in the most interesting positions when she woke up in the
morning. “Well, could be worse – at
least I don’t snore.”
“Ha,
right! You do that too!”
Gasping in
indignation, she replied, “I do not snore!”
“You do
too!” he insisted, laughing. “Lightly,
thank God. But you do.”
She shook
her head, but he was probably right there too.
“Well, enjoy your last few nights without my snoring then,” she
said. “Jeez, you’ll probably have kicked
me out by this time next week… or banished me to one of the guest rooms.”
“Never,” he
vowed. She smiled again.
They talked
for a few minutes, and she asked if he’d been taking his prescription – he said
he had – and then, after a glance at the clock, she told him she had to
go. “I’m sorry,” she said
sincerely. “We can do something
tomorrow, once I’m caught up on sleep, okay?”
“Okay,” he
replied grudgingly. “’Night.”
“’Night,”
she echoed, then added, “Love you.”
She waited
for his response, hoping she hadn’t let him down too much. After a pause, the welcomed words came. “I love you too.”
Smiling,
she gently replaced the phone receiver and slid down onto one of her kitchen
chairs, thinking about him. It took her
a minute or two to snap out of her reverie and get back up. She threw away the sorry remainder of her
dinner, did a quick load of dishes, and headed back into the living room to
wrap a few more of her odds and ends in tissue paper and pack them neatly into
a cardboard box. When she had filled the
box up and taped it shut, she decided to call it a night. Turning out the lights in the front of the
apartment, she headed back to her tiny bedroom, greatly looking forward to
scrunching down beneath her covers and falling asleep.
***