enemy to doctor - the hating game

11 - nightingale syndrom?

"I'll just do a simple bandaging real quick so that no bacteria settle down."

I remain silent. Just watch him.
Despite all the things happening during the last 24 hours, I cannot shake of the new feeling that has started developing inside of my stomach.
The term Nightingale Syndrom pops up in my head. The phenomenon where you start developing feelings for you caregiver or savior?
Is it that what I'm feeling right now?
I'm a lost cause.
There's no way I can start developing feelings for the guy who I usually hate.
But then I remember the way he treated me, the way he calmed me and how he made me feel with that.

"I need to lift you up a bit in order to wrap the bandage around your stomach."

He pushes his arm under my back and pulls me up, holding me close. With the other hand he wraps the white bandage around me.
Then he looks at me. For a second his eyes wander to my lips and I wonder whether he is actually going to- but then he lays me back down on the stretcher.

"Let me take your temp real quick and then we'll get you a wheelchair and go into a more comfortable room where we can eat."

I nod and turn my head to the side to grant him easier access to my ear from where he will measure my fever. A few seconds later he does exactly that and we both wait for the beeping sound.

"39.9°. That's at least somewhat better."

"Where is the fever even coming from?"

I hope that my question is not stupid.

"Honestly, we don't quite know. Most likely the infection and something else inside of your body. We're waiting for the blood results to give a verdict on that. Let me detach the EKG real quick."

His rough big hands wander under my shirt and start to carefully detach the stickers from my skin. Then he disappears for a minute and comes back with a literal wheelchair.

"I feel like a granny."

"Well right now your vitals could keep up with the ones of a granny but as already said, there's no need to worry. With the proper care you'll recover soon."

Without a question he lifts me up and places me into the wheelchair. The back rest is tilted lightly to the back so that I don't sit upright. It's something between laying and sitting. Attached to the wheelchair is a vertical metal rod to which Josh attaches my IV bag. Then he drapes the blanket over me again and clamps a puls measurer onto my finger.
We don't talk a lot but the occasional touching, the eye contact speaks for itself.
He pushes me out of the office and back onto the hallway. We walk past at least ten doors before we enter some kind of a living room. There's a fireplace, couch, table but again also medical supplies and sterile cabinets on one of the walls.
I feel exhausted and close my eyes for a few seconds. They are burning like fire and I enjoy the darkness behind my eyelids.
When I open them again Josh already pushed me next to the couch and sat down on it. He's looking at me.

"Your eyes are fire red Lucy. Are you crying?"

"No, nonono."

I chuckle silently.

"Probably just the air conditioning. I usually have my eyedrops with me but obviously not now."

I lift my hand and rub over both my eyes.

"Watch out with the IV Luce. And don't rub your eyes like that, it's just going to get worse. Let me see."

He stands up and walks over to me then places one hand under my chin and one on the side of my head. His thumb is underneath my right eye.

"Look up. Down." I comply. "To the right, ..... left."

The motion is exhausting and a thumping pain develops in my head, making my eyebrows crease.

"Are you in pain?"

Josh's voice sounds alarming.

"Yes, just my head."

Josh relaxes a bit.

"Probably because of the concussion. I almost forgot about that, shit. It can affect your eyes, of course it can. Let me give you some eyedrops."

He walks over to the cabinets and begins searching through them. Finally he comes back with a tiny plastic bottle and rips the upper part off.

"Can you keep your eyes open for me?"

"I'll try."

Josh inches closer and rests one of his hands on the side of my face while directing the other hand toward my eye. I flinch when I feel the drop entering my eye and blink so that it rolls down my cheek.

"It's fine, relax Shortcake. Just look up and focus on a spot up here somewhere. Try not to move hm?"

I stummer an apology and do as I'm told. I still flinch but the drop enters my eye and the burning pain immediately reduces itself. Then he puts a drop into my left eye and I finally close them both.

"All done. Let me know when your eyes feel dry or start burning or even hurting. Take some rest. I'll let you know when the food is here."

And with that I drift off into a light uncomfortable sleep. Around 15 minutes later Josh wakes me up. Patrick is back and the smell of food with him. Despite my protests Josh helps me with eating my food even though I feel super embarrassed.
Patrick tells me about a time when Josh broke both his hands at the same time when he was 12 years old and he had to be fed for 3 consecutive weeks before being able to hold a spoon himself again.
The thought of a young Joshua Templeman makes me smile.
We finish and Patrick gathers the dirty dishes and trash to bring it away. Without a further word Josh pushes my wheelchair out of the room and towards the doctors office again.
With each second my nervousness grows and by the time we enter the room again, my nerves are skyrocketing.
Just the thought of another procedure like this makes me want to throw up.
I want to tell him, tell him my concerns but just as I'm about to open my mouth, Josh speaks.

"I have to change into sterile clothing now. We don't want to take any risks. It'll just be a minute."

He has already placed me back onto the stretcher and is finishing up the attachment of the EKG in this exact moment. And with that he turns around, grabs some scrubs out of a cabinet and leaves into a neighboring room.

Leaving me alone with the sound of my heartbeat, attached to several wires and tubes.

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Ohhh this is about to get really interesting...

What do you think? Hope you enjoyed these new developments!