Aris POV
Her bloodshot eyes widen as if she recognizes me somehow before she begins to panic and tries to thrash around...which thankfully her casts restrict her from doing too much.
Most all coma patients' first reaction when they wake is to reach for the endotracheal tube and try to yank it out, often hurting themselves, which is what she's obviously trying to do, but thankfully can't.
"Amara...calm down, please," I soothe and she responds to my voice instantly, looking up at me, making me smile.
"I am Dr. Sinclair," I begin. "If you'll stay still, I will remove the tube," I point to her mouth. Her eyes look at me, pleading for me to take it out. "I know...those things are no fun," I sympathize...though I never have before.
"When I tell you to, cough," I say as I make sure that the ETT cuff is not over-inflated.
"Cough," I instruct, as I begin to gently yet quickly remove the tube. Her eyes water as she gags and coughs a bit more. I turn and tell Nina to start the morphine drip.
She begins to take ragged breaths on her own, and it's a glorious sound.
"W-wh...where?" she croaks out between breaths as her eyes dart around.
"You're at Northwestern Hospital," I answer as I pour her a glass of water and then place the flexible straw in the cup, before pushing the button to slowly raise her bed enough, so that she can swallow without choking.
"Here, drink this. It will help," I smile warmly as I slowly bring the straw towards her dry, cracked lips.
She timidly takes the proffered straw between her lips, taking several draws of the cool, fresh water before I pull it back. If she drinks too much, too fast, it can make her vomit, and I don't want to cause her anymore stress.
I tell Nina to go and get a packet of Vaseline.
"How...long?" she rasps a bit clearer, with a distinct southern twang that I find utterly adorable.
My little country bumpkin.
"This is your fourth day here," I answer as her eyes widen. "Do you remember how you got here?" I ask. I'm not trying to overwhelm her, but anyone coming out of a coma must have their cognitive skills checked, especially memory.
"I...I was in a phone booth," she grimaces. "And that's...the last thing I remember." Interesting. The only phone booth I saw in that neighborhood was about four blocks away and heavily vandalized.
"What about before...what brought you to the phone booth?" I ask, hoping for more information about that night.
She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, as if trying to block out the bad memories.
"Take your time, sweetheart," I soothe, lightly touching her fingers.
She opens her tear filled eyes. "I...crawled."
I keep a neutral expression, despite my complete and utter shock. Those two words will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Is she telling me that she crawled four blocks, through that dangerous neighborhood, in her condition? To a phone that appeared to be no longer operational?
No...that can't be...can it???
Nina walks in and hands me the Vaseline packet.
I tear the corner off and squeeze some onto my pointer finger. "Allow me to put this on your lips. They look rather painful," I offer, despite knowing that chapped lips are the least of her problems. But this is the only way I can offer her comfort right now, especially with Nina present.
She nods and I gently slather her full, beautiful lips, feeling tingles flow through my fingertip and up into my hand.
She gasps and her eyes widen in bewilderment, as if she feels it too.
God, how I wish I could hold and comfort her, tell her how much I love her...how much I care.
I never believed in such things as love, soulmates, or any other romantic nonsense, but since I've met Amara, I know it exists.
I tell Nina to hand me a box of tissues and she does.
I pull a few out and reluctantly wipe my finger off before using the other to tenderly dry her tears, which she seems to revel in.
My poor angel...she's starved for touch...love.
Me too.
There's so much more that I want to ask her, but I know I don't have long until the morphine makes her sleepy, and I need to check her motor functions.
"There...all better," I smile, even though she's far from better. "I know that you need to rest, but I have to check a few things first. Is that alright?"
She nods.
I walk to the end of the bed. "I'm going to take a look at your feet," I tell her before pulling the covers back.
Her feet are dreadfully filthy, which pisses me the fuck off. I told that lazy fucking nurse to thoroughly cleanse Amara as much as possible, but I guess she figured, out of sight, out of mind.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I don't want Amara to think I'm upset with her because I'm not.
Standard procedure would be me poking the bottom of her feet with a needle to check for any loss of sensation or paralysis, but there's no way in hell I'm going to risk opening a small wound there and possibly cause her to contract a staph infection or worse, due to the bacteria that's covering them. After seeing the basement and house that she had to walk around in, there could be Ebola on there for all I know.
"Can you wiggle your toes for me?" I ask sweetly, masking my anger.
She grimaces in pain but slowly does it. "Perfect!" I cheer encouragingly. I prod a few areas on her left leg, since it's not in a cast, asking if she can feel it, and she does.
I can't help but notice how filthy and hairy her leg is, and I'm sure the other one is just the same underneath her cast. She probably never got to shave or bathe for the past two years...
I can't wait to torture and kill that no good motherfucker!!!
I cover her legs back up and return to her. "Now let's see if you can squeeze my fingers," I smile as I place them down in her hand.
Her delicate little fingers slowly close, gripping me as much as she can in her weakened state while I just continue to smile proudly, loving the feel of her hands on mine.
I walk around the bed and have her do the same with her other hand, but since it's in a cast, she's not able to do as much.
"How would you rate your pain on a scale from one to five, with five being the worst?" I ask concernedly.
She hesitates as if she doesn't want to answer.
"Please be honest," I coax. "I only want to help."
"Five," she whispers shamefully and looks down, like she's not allowed to show or admit her pain.
What the fuck...
I reach over and adjust the IV, increasing her morphine drip. "It should be better in a moment," I tell her sympathetically.
How I wish I could take all of her pain away...
I take the small penlight out of my pocket and check her eyes before the increased dosage of morphine kicks in, asking her to follow my finger side to side, up and down, checking her pupillary responses, which also seem fine.
Considering what she's been through and the condition she's in now, she did beautifully.
"Well, you passed with flying colors," I tell her happily and she grins softly. "I just have one last thing to do," I say as I pull my stethoscope from my neck and put the ear tips into my ears. "I need to listen to your heart and lungs," I tell her before pulling the cover down a bit and placing the bell on her chest.
"Take a deep breath and exhale," I instruct and she does before I move to another area. "Again," I say.
I hear a slight rattle that I don't like, so I will up her antibiotics dosage and order a chest x-ray. I certainly don't want her to develop pneumonia, which can happen from being on a ventilator.
Not to mention the horrible shit she was breathing in that fucking house – black mold, asbestos, cigarette smoke, shit...
Her heart is nice and strong though.
It will need to be, to hopefully make room for me in there.
I turn and tell Nina to go and get the antibiotic I want to start Amara on, as well as some Dispomedic 7.5% Povidone Iodine soap solution to cleanse Amara's feet and leg as I quickly write up an order for a chest x-ray.
Once she's gone, I look back to Amara. "If everything goes well with your x-ray, we can move you out of the ICU in the next day or two, and into your own suite," I smile. "You can watch TV there," I add, hoping to cheer her up.
Her eyes widen again, but in fear. "I'm...not allowed," she whispers.
"Says who?" I ask, trying not to lose my temper. It seems that she's never been allowed to do anything.
"Mems...God..." she trails off.
Mems...the old bitch that wouldn't let Amara have a piece of gum when she was little.
"Who is that?" I ask, internally seething.
"My grandma," she answers.
Fuck...with family like that, you don't need enemies.
"Well...she isn't here, is she? And I certainly won't tell, if you don't," I smirk conspiratorially.
"Mems is in Heaven, and she and God would know," she sighs sadly and looks away.
"Hey...I'm sorry to hear that," I say for Amara's benefit, even though I'm not sorry at all. I'm glad the old bitch is dead. "Surely The Bible doesn't say anything about television, does it?"
I've never felt so clueless in all my life.
I'll have to read it tonight...after I steal one from the hospital chapel downstairs.
She looks back at me. "Psalm chapter 101, verse three says, "I will not set before my eyes anything that is worthless. I hate the work of those who fall away; it shall not cling to me, and in Ephesians, chapter five, verse 11, it says, "Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them, and then there's first John, chapter five, verse 21 that says, "Little children, keep yourselves from idols," she takes a deep breath and then coughs.
I just look at her in awe, that she can quote a book like that. Not much impresses me, but she surely does...even if it is just The Bible.
"I respect that," I smile. "No TV then."
She smiles and looks off to the side, towards the flowers I ordered earlier that had been forgotten.
I walk over, pick them up, and carry them back to her bed tray.
There are three dozen roses in all different shades of pink with baby's breath and daisies mixed throughout, in a large, white, antique looking vase.
She stares in wonder at the bouquet and it makes me so happy.
"Daisies..." she whispers with a smile, and it warms my heart. Most women would only care about whom they were from or how much they cost, but Amara...she's only focused on the simple daisies.
"You like daisies?" I play stupid, but inside, I'm thrilled that my hunch about her love of daisies was correct.
She nods as I reach over and pull one of the daisies out of the bouquet, and hand it to her.
Her eyes tear up as she stares at it and I hope that it's not something triggering bad memories.
She brings it up to her nose and inhales deeply as her eyes close in contentment. "Home..." she says softly.
And I've never seen anything so beautiful...
I have homes all over the world, but the way she smelled that single flower and spoke that one simple word – home, with such conviction, makes her richer than I'll ever be.
I can only hope that she'll consider my homes...me...her home soon. She's already mine.
"I'll leave that one with you and put these back over by the window," I tell her as I return the vase.
She opens her eyes tiredly and smiles. "Thank you."
"You're most welcome," I reply as her eyes begin to droop.
I'm glad she is going to rest, but I'm sad that our time is over, for now...
A/N : What do you think of their first official meeting? Please let me know! And be sure to recommend this story and my others, if you can. I appreciate it! ❤️
Reads, comments, and votes NEED to go up on this story, or it may not be worth me continuing.
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