Chapter 8
"I immediately notified Dr. Leroy, who was on duty. We've already drawn blood for testing and collected a urine sample," I reported. "We cooled him down, set up an IV, and started antibiotics."
I reported everything in one go, making sure I didn't miss a thing.
Ellen nodded, a trace of approval in her eyes.
"Good job. You acted fast," she said.
Her gaze flickered almost imperceptibly to our still-clasped hands.
Julian, the hopeless guy, still had no intention of letting go of me.
Ellen paused for a moment, then suddenly dropped a line I didn't see coming.
"He's been like this since he was a kid," she said.
"Huh?" I was dumbfounded.
"Whenever he gets sick, he gets really clingy. He always wants to hold onto something, or someone," she explained.
Her tone was super casual, like it was no big deal at all.
"When he was little and had a fever, he'd hold onto my finger all night and never let go," she added.
My heart gave a little jolt.
So that was what it was?
He wasn't doing it on purpose.
Ellen noticed how embarrassed I was, and for a split second, a faint smile seemed to appear on her face.
It was gone so fast, I almost thought I'd imagined it.
"You haven't slept a wink all night, have you?" she asked.
I nodded.
Ever since the pileup last night, I'd been going nonstop. I didn't even have a minute to catch my breath.
When I was so tense just now, I barely noticed it, but now that I finally relaxed, exhaustion washed over me like a tidal wave.
"I've got a break room in my office. Go get some sleep," she said.
She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and handed them to me.
"I can't. The patient still needs to be monitored," I protested.
"I've got this," Ellen said. Her tone brooked no argument. "A good doctor has to take care of themselves first.
"Otherwise, how can you help your patients?
"That's an order."
Those last three words, "That's an order", came with the kind of authority only a mentor like Ellen could wield.
I couldn't argue back anymore.
"Okay," I said.
I hesitantly took the keys from her, still carrying her warmth.
"Thank you, Dr. Godwin," I said.
"Go on," Ellen said.
She waved her hand, signaling me to leave.
I stood up and took one last look at Julian, still lying in the hospital bed.
He seemed to be sleeping more peacefully now, his brow finally smooth.
But his hand was still reaching out, as if he wanted to hold onto something.
I practically fled the room.
Only when I reached the end of the hallway did I dare to lean against the cold wall, gasping for air.
My cheeks were burning with embarrassment.
The keys in my palm felt icy cold, their chill unusually vivid.
I looked down at them.
My brain felt like mush.
Ellen's words, "Whenever he gets sick, he gets really clingy", echoed in my mind.
Wait, was I actually feeling sorry for him just now?
For my arch-nemesis of ten years?
That realization sent a wave of panic through me, leaving me more unsettled than ever.
In the end, I couldn't bring myself to go to Ellen's break room.
Instead, I spent a whole hour sitting in the hospital stairwell.
At four in the morning, the hospital was so quiet, the only thing one could hear was the low hum of the machines.
But my thoughts had never been clearer.
I kept going over everything that had happened since Julian was admitted.
From the smugness I felt when I got to catheterize him, to that total social death moment during rounds, to the weird sense of being kindred spirits when we argued over academics, and finally just now, when my heart when soft and panic at his bedside.
Everything was spinning off in a direction I couldn't predict or control.
This feeling was awful.
It was like being a ship drifting off course, heading straight into a fog of uncertainty, with no clue what lay ahead.
By the time dawn was breaking, I finally made my way back to the nurse's station.
I handed the keys to the nurse on duty and asked her to pass them on to Ellen.
Then I ate a couple of sandwiches from the cafeteria and threw myself into the new day's grind.
I tried to keep myself busy, hoping to keep my mind off all that chaos.
All morning, I subconsciously avoided room 3.
I had Ron Sheffield, the intern in my group, swing by Julian's room a few times for me.
When Ron came back, he said Julian's fever was gone, that Ellen had gone back early this morning, and Julian seemed in pretty good spirits now.
"Got it," I replied. I couldn't tell if I was relieved or disappointed.
By noon, I couldn't avoid it any longer.
It was time to change the dressing for Bed 3.
Ellen had made it clear yesterday that this was my job. No one else was allowed to do it.