Pandemic love, p.22
Pandemic Love, page 22
‘Hello again, Dana.’ He’s quiet. I offer a small wave. ‘I assume you remember me. Dr Steve Perkins?’
I nod my head. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘And I assume you know about Mike being rushed to the emergency department earlier today?’
Tears start to well in my eyes. ‘Yes,’ I barely squeak out. ‘My dad found him.’
‘Ah, okay. That makes sense.’
‘How is he?’ Or should I not ask?
‘Well, Dana, he’s lucky to be alive.’
I take a sharp inhalation of breath, covering my mouth with my hand. Steve continues.
‘It looks like he has a collapsed lung on the right side. He is requiring oxygen and steroids in order to keep his oxygen saturation high enough and he’s getting antibiotics in the drip due to his fever – just in case. We aren’t sure how long he was on the floor for before he was found and he hasn’t been able to say more than a few words. The last being “find Dana”. So here I am.’
Oh, dear lord. It’s worse than I thought. ‘Thank you, Steve, for finding me and letting me know. I have been going out of my mind with worry.’
‘Yes, I think he knows how worried you must’ve been. Just as worried as he was when you were taken to hospital.’
‘Oh. He told you about that?’ I bite my lip nervously.
‘Uh, yes. He called me, stressed out of his brain. I’ve never heard him so worried before. He is usually so calm and collected. I was able to give him some information on your condition as he hadn’t heard from you either.’
Oh. I don’t know whether to smile or cry. ‘So, is he stable?’
‘Yes, he has stabilised, which is why I was able to come up here to let you know what is happening. But they are about to move him. Up here, to the ICU.’
‘Oh. Oh, of course. Where are they going to put him?’
He looks down the corridor first before replying, appearing to make sure no one is in earshot, and then he looks down at his hands, clasping them in front. ‘Well, Dana. Correct me if I’m wrong but I suspect that you will be… anxious, not knowing how he’s progressing?’
‘Well yes, but—’
‘And you’re not listed as his next of kin?’
‘Well, no—’
‘Then I have made arrangements to have him placed opposite you.’
‘What?’
‘The room across from you has recently been vacated, so if you wish, we can put him there. That will mean that you can keep an eye on him from here if you like.’
I nod. ‘Hmm… I see your point. I’m not sure I’m ready to see him in that kind of a state.’
‘Well, Dana, think quickly about it because you only have approximately one hour to decide,’ he says, looking down at his watch before continuing. ‘I can just as easily ask for him to be moved somewhere else so that you don’t have to see him, but then you will not be informed about his condition, again, as you are not the next of kin.’
‘Yeah, okay. I understand. I will think about it. But can I ask you a question then?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Who exactly is his next of kin?’
He takes a deep breath and lets out a very large sigh. ‘Sorry to be the one to tell you this Dana but… it’s his wife.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
QUARANTINE - DAY 13
Dana
‘His… wife?’ I question, my voice shaking as I do.
Dr Steve looks at me through the glass door separating us and nods his head politely.
‘Wait, wait, wait. I’m confused. Mike… has a wife? How could that possibly be?’
He looks downwards, likely to avoid looking at my panic-stricken face. He seems to pause for a moment, but then returns his gaze to mine before answering. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s my place to tell you about that situation exactly. I don’t even know the full ins and outs of it myself. Only briefly, from what Mike has mentioned to me, but that was well over a year ago. I’m so sorry to spring that on you, Dana.’
‘Oh. Um. It’s okay, Steve… uh, I mean, Dr Perkins. I just thought that Mike would’ve told me if he was married… by now, at least.’
‘I’m sure he was intending to.’
‘Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I know now. Thanks. Umm and about what you asked me before, my answer is no. I don’t want Mike to be put across from me.’ I back step.
Steve continues to look towards me blankly but briefly bobs his head up and down. ‘Understood.’
I know he can sense my sudden change in demeanour, even through this imperviable glass wall. He doesn’t stay any longer, probably deciding that he has received his answer and he gives a small wave before turning to leave.
A wife? A wife. I was not expecting that at all.
I am standing motionless in front of the glass door, feet glued to the spot. I can’t bear to move. The overwhelming bomb drop I have just received having everything to do with it. My heart is beating fast, crashing and crushing deep inside my chest wall. A wife.
As I’m looking out of my room, I see Dr Perkins approach the in-charge nurse of the day. I see him shaking his head and her nodding hers. I can only assume that he is telling her not to put Mike in the vacant room across the way from me and her nodding her head in understanding of his proposal.
Was I too rash?
How could I possibly look Mike in the eye now, knowing what I know?
I keep watch, out of my glass door, at the busyness of the intensive care department. Nurses stand at their tall desks in front of rooms, chaotically scribbling notes, wearing their masks and scrubs. Other nurses are running between the rooms checking equipment and supplies, and no doubt getting ready to draw up the next vial of sedative. They don’t seem to stop. At least they are getting a reprieve right now from that one vacant room across from me, as well as the minimal care I am currently receiving.
As I continue to daydream about what it would be like to be a nurse, I suddenly see, out of the corner of my left eye, a deep shade of blue. I turn to look towards the bold colour, intrigued, when I realise that it is in fact a cover – a large, deep canvas cover. I squint towards the space, trying to figure out where I’ve seen one of those before. Maybe it was during my hospital training or maybe during a tour of the hospital wards. I can’t quite remember.
Then, it suddenly hits me. No. I remember where I saw those. It was downstairs in the mortuary. These are the covers that they use to cover the deceased patient and their bed as they transport them downstairs to the morgue.
Oh, God. Someone’s died.
I’ve never actually seen one of these covers before in the wards but then again, I’m usually confined to my lab, with the screening fluid and microscopes. Far away from the sick people.
I’m not sure why I hadn’t thought of people dying here before now; after all, it is the ICU. I’d have to look up the statistics to know for sure but I guess I’d say it would be about 50:50 between those who live and those who don’t.
Suddenly, I see the blue-covered bed move along the corridor in my direction and I take another two steps back. This. This moment is as close as I have ever been to death before. Well, at least in the human, imminent death, sense.
I have been to funerals in the past of course – who hasn’t? – but I do suspect that the person here today who has passed only has within the last hour.
That’s close. Too close. I feel momentarily paralysed.
I decide that now is as good a time as any to try to arrange my escape. In the most logical approach this time. I pace over to my call bell, finding it hanging beside my bed and call the nurse. I am done with my stay here and ready to get the hell out.
***
It’s a good ten minutes before a nurse responds to my call. I see a young lass shimmy her way over to my door before donning the required PPE.
She looks a bit flustered.
Maybe she was busier than I first thought. After she’s dressed, she pokes her head through the door, looking towards me. ‘What’s up?’
‘Really? What’s up? I don’t know. What’s up? Hmm, let me see. I’ve got COVID for one, I am perfectly well for number two, I don’t understand why I can’t just leave here and go home for three, Angus, who I work with, is a couple doors down from me on death row and the man I lov—’ I stop myself. ‘Mike, my friend, will be arriving into the ICU shortly as he is so unwell with his COVID that he needs to come to the ICU too. I just can’t take it anymore! I can’t be here! I can’t deal with it all!’
I groan out loud, sitting on the edge of the bed, the firm mattress taking my full albeit shrinking weight. I get a sigh from the girl standing at the door opposite me. She can tell I’ve had enough and by the rant I’ve just delivered, she can tell I’m angry about life too.
‘Look, Dana. I know this is not the ideal situation and that you want to be home right now but look on the bright side – you’re alive. You are well. And you will be out of here tomorrow.’
I look towards her sharply. ‘What – tomorrow?’
She nods her head in affirmation and I feel myself calm down.
‘Yes, Dana. The diabetic educator will be here first thing, despite the fact that it’s a Sunday, as she knows just how eager you are to get out of here, so you have become her number one priority.’
‘Oh really? Oh, thank God! I have been through so much.’
‘Yes. I know, or so I’ve heard. But I just wanted to ask you one thing?’
‘Sure,’ I say, shrugging.
‘I know you said to Dr Perkins that you don’t want this Mike guy across from you but are you sure? Really sure? You will be able to keep an eye on him and make sure he’s well. At least, if that was my boyfriend, I’d like to make sure he was alright.’
Hmm. I look down at my hands, twiddling my thumbs in indecision.
‘Before the information I just found out, I would have considered it but I just don’t want to look at his handsome face right now. I’m still processing it all.’
I don’t think she has any idea of what I’m talking about, so rightfully she doesn’t reply and instead turns to leave.
‘Oh, before you go, can I ask you something?’
‘Yeah, shoot.’
‘So, if Mike doesn’t get put in the bed space across from me, then where would he get put? Hypothetically, of course.’
‘Oh. Well, we have another bed space available but we are just waiting for the cleaners to finish its terminal clean.’
‘Terminal? That doesn’t sound good.’
‘Well, no, it’s not as it sounds. Terminal clean just means a thorough deep clean after someone infectious has left the room. A lot of our patients are infectious in one way or another. Like, they may have respiratory symptoms requiring contact precautions – like yourself. In fact, Mike will only be two doors down from you to your left. Close, but not too close.’
‘Oh.’ Wait, hold on. ‘I’m sorry, Nurse, isn’t Angus in that room? Just two doors down from me?’
She doesn’t move, just stares widely in my direction.
‘Uh, hello? What’s going on?’
‘Oh gosh, Dana. I am such an idiot. We weren’t going to tell you until Janine was here, but since I’ve spilled the beans. I guess I should tell you. Your work friend Angus? Well, he didn’t make it. He passed away about an hour or so ago. I really am sorry to be the one to tell you.’
‘Oh.’
With that she quietly closes the door again and rushes back away, re-joining the chaotic circulation of clinicians.
CHAPTER THIRTY
QUARANTINE – DAY 8
Mike
My eyes are stinging.
Sore, like I’ve never used them before. I try my best to pry them open but the lights are so intensely bright that I quickly close them again. Instead, I use my ears. Hearing all sorts of machinery beeping and drips dripping. And then my hands, determining that I’m in a bed and could consider that bed to be inside a hospital. Which hospital or which ward I cannot tell yet.
Keeping my eyes closed, I reach my right hand towards the right side of my chest. I can feel a tugging from there and need to investigate. As I reach, I am quickly met with a tube. A long thick plastic tube. I follow it up my side and towards my ribcage. It’s then I realise that it disappears into my chest cavity and I take a sharp breath.
Ouch!
Oh great. A chest drain. I can feel the sutures holding it in place, even if they are underneath some thin transparent wound dressings.
It’s ironic that I usually put these into other people’s chests, never having one myself, despite having a history of pneumothorax. I must’ve had a moderately large collapsed lung today for them to use this.
If I was to follow the tube in the other direction, away from my skin, I would find it connected to a large drainage chamber filled with water. Every time I deep breathe or cough, the air around my lung moves along the tube and causes little bubbles of air to appear under the water. The water stops unwanted air from travelling from the chamber back up along the tube into my chest. There will also be some suction attached to the nifty little device to help keep my lung inflated. Well, more or less.
Fingers crossed it’s working.
I finally feel ready to open my eyes and keep them open, looking down at my white patient gown half-draped across my body and the large bore cannulas sticking out of my veins. Plural. I must’ve been in a bad way.
My mouth is dry; I’m thirsty. I pull down my oxygen mask and reach over to the bedside table, hoping that there’s some water in that little cup I can see. I feel another twinge in my chest as I do so, so I quickly reinforce the drain site with one hand as I reach out with the other.
Success. I reach the cup and realise that it is half full of glorious liquid sustenance. I chug it down, not hardly quenching my thirst. I decide to look for my patient buzzer, hoping to get the attention of the nearest nurse or doctor so that I can get some more water for one and two, get some real answers about what the hell happened.
***
‘You were found, practically unconscious, on your living room floor. Inches away from your mobile phone!’ Steve says as he enters the room.
‘No need to lecture me, Steve. I can fully recall the events leading up to my collapse. I’m just a little rusty about what came next. And it was Dana’s living room floor, by the way, not mine.’
‘Hmm. Yes, I’m fully aware of that. Do you know that you could have died? You almost did!’ He’s annoyed at me – rightfully so.
‘Easy now. I am totally fine, look at me!’ I smirk, gesturing to myself, panning my hand up and down my somewhat-scarred body.
‘Well, you had a lot of freaked-out people here.’
‘Oh yeah, who? My boss? I’m sure he was more concerned about replacing my shifts next week than my actual accidental attempt in dying.’
‘No, you idiot. Dana. I could tell she was freaking out. I had to let her know what had happened. She said her father found you.’
I sigh at that recollection. ‘Oh, yeah. I think I remember seeing Paul there at some stage. But mostly, it’s a blur.’
‘You scared the living daylights out of her.’
I adjust my body awkwardly. ‘It wasn’t my intention. Apart from that, how is she?’
Steve takes his turn letting out a big sigh, finally calming down. ‘She is perfectly fine. A healthy specimen and will be going home tomorrow as far as I’m aware.’
I’m surprised and also a little envious. ‘How could you possibly know that?’
‘The nurse in charge maybe let it slip when I was arranging to transfer you upstairs here.’
I roll my eyes in exasperation. ‘Oh, God, what did you do?’
‘Oh, nothing. I just asked Dana if she wanted you across from her so that she could keep an eye on you.’ He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant.
‘Yeah?’
‘But she declined.’
‘Hmmm. I can see that,’ I say, looking across the hall at a patient who is certainly not Dana, and then I wonder why she chose not to be closer to me.
Is it because it would be too distressing to see all the drains and drips coming from my body? I suppose being a scientist and away from all the sick patients, it may have been too much for her, and I can understand that.
‘So, how long do you think I’ll be stuck in here with this thing in my chest?’ I look over to Steve expectantly.
‘Hah, I’m afraid I’m not the right guy to answer that! But I reckon you’ve got a solid week of recovery,’ he cheekily says underneath his mask. ‘Remember, Mike, you’ve still got COVID. So, until you’re told you can leave quarantine, you are stuck here, my friend.’
I groan in response, realising that he is bang on. ‘Yeah, there’s not much I can do until the powers that be let me go, I guess.’
‘You guessed right.’ Another impertinent quip from Steve.
‘Thanks for cheering me up. So, what else is news?’
Steve pauses for a moment, thinking deeply. ‘Well, you know that guy, Angus, who got caught up in all this nonsense?’
‘Yeah, of course.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, mate, but he passed away this morning.’
‘What?’ My eyes go wide in surprise before I curse under my breath.
Jesus. I can’t believe it.
Poor Angus.
Poor Dana.
I wipe my hand down my face in disbelief. What an absolute cock-up this whole situation has been. ‘How’s Dana doing? Does she know?’ I’m almost pleading with Steve to know more information about Dana now.
‘I don’t know if she does. I think they wanted to keep it quiet until tomorrow. Then she can have her boss let her know. Might be easier that way.’
