Hi. I'm flattered by your comments and questions about the story's state. 😍 Well, here is the new chapter. I have more written, but it feels like to stop this chapter here. 🤔 I hope next week the new one is coming with... well, some more excitement! 😏
„Fuck," a desperate groan escaped my throat when my pager went off, and I jogged out of the little container which was functioning as my home for more than two weeks now. The night was hot and dry, I felt my t-shirt being wet from the sweat. As I ran, getting near the so called A ward I heard a baby's cry through the silence of the night.
Mweso, the city we were settled, was mainly known from its hospital. It was popular amongst the locals - it admitted nearly 13000 patients around the year. It was near Goma, where the headquarters of our organisation was, about 60 miles from the eastern border of Rwanda. The busiest department was undoubtedly obstetrics. With the complete lack of family planning, a lot of babies were born. We were there to make sure they are well taken care of.
I met my assistant halfway. The Austrian veteran nurse-anaesthetist, Wolfgang was nearly able to see anything, he had been surely in the middle of his deepest dreams when we were paged.
„'Morning," I smirked at him, but he only responded with a grimace.
„It's 3," he barked, and matched my pace in running.
We arrived at the Operation Room, and the situation became clear without the staff explaining it to us. I gasped as I saw the Norvegian midwife, Hanna's hand being pushed in deep inside a woman who was obviously in labour.
She is preventing either the cord or some small part of the baby to be born beforehand. It's an urgent indication for cesarean delivery. That's why they called us.
The woman looked like she was in pain, and there was no blood around - at least not more than normal. Great. It's a good sign.
I looked at Wolfgang, who didn't need more, he turned and rushed to the OR to prepare everything for the urgent anaesthesia.
A nurse just came in the room with a crying baby, but she soon realised it wasn't the place and time for them to step ahead, so she wanted to leave.
The woman asked something worriedly, and the nurse translated it.
„She is asking if she was alright?"
Hanna nodded. I figured they were talking about the baby.
„She is healthy. But there is another one in there, and a little stuck so that's why we are going to the surgery, ok? My hand just gonna stay here till you and your baby are all right, OK?" she explained with a shade of panic in her voice. Then she looked at me. „Where the fuck is Hernandez?!"
Our Mexican gynecologist soon arrived already sweating, so we were ready to get the second baby.
The mother wasn't aware about her twin pregnancy at all for nine months – but soon, twenty minutes later, we woke her up, and brought her both her babies, a completely healthy girl and a boy.
„Ashanti," said the mother, still half asleep, but with a beautiful, grateful smile. I knew it meant thank you in Swahili, and I nodded happily. Wolfgang was making some strange noises next to me, snobbing into a handkerchief.
„Come on let's go before you get pregnant just by looking at them," he murmured under his breath, and simply walked out.
I snorted, but said goodbye to the other staff members and followed him.
There were the only four of us who provided anaesthesia in the hospital – two doctors and two assistant nurses. One was Wolfgang, the other one was a quiet girl from Ukraine – Tamara. I had no idea what she was running from, but I sure heard her speaking on the phone once and said she'd never go home again.
I felt sorry for her but didn't ask anything – I thought she'd open up if she felt like it. The other doctor was Léon, a ridiculously good looking French doctor. I had no idea why he was here in the first place. I mean he was from a rich family, graduated with good grades, been admitted in a posh hospital in Paris, but after 10 years he threw everything away and travelled the world – and hasn't stopped since. He had endless stories from his adventures which he loved to share in some ladys' company. He was speaking Swahili – he was working here for over a year, and was desperate to teach me some words. The hospital staff was obsessed with our „couple" from the first time I was guided by him around the wards.
„Honey, do you have a husband?" One nurse asked me in the corridor. I've literally never spoken to her before. I blinked at her a couple times while her colleague was giggling childishly, half hiding behind her.
„No, why?" I frowned. I had no idea why was this suddenly that important.
„We think you'd make a cute couple with Doctor Léon," she giggled. I laughed after I heard their idea and continued my way to my operating room.
"He has beautiful eyes. Good for passing to babies!"
I heard their giggle after I tried to explain to Tamara what meds would I need.
„Good night, Wolfgang," I smiled at my assistant as we arrived back to our bungalows.
„You said morning already. Before this," he looked at me like I was some dumb person. But I wasn't in a way to get my mood ruined, so I shrugged.
„You see? Time flies in good company," I smiled at him, and stepped into my room.
Our accomodation were less than modest. My room consisted of a bed, a shelf over it and a chair. It didn't have flooring, only dust on the floor. And the self collapsed the first day after I put my clothes on it. There was no bathroom. It was only available inside the hospital building.
„At least we are close," Tamara told me on the first day with a shrug. She really looked like she didn't care.
I collapsed on my bed, still wearing my hospital scrubs. I perfected the method for catching sleep when I had the opportunity, not when I was sleepy or I normally would sleep. We could have been called in anytime of the day, so I was sleeping at the times I wasn't needed anywhere.
I maybe catched two hours of sleep when I was woken up by Tamara standing at my feet.
"It's not really safe, you know," she grimaced. "Sleeping with an open door."
"Oh, I may have left it open when we came back," I groaned, and turned to my other side.
"So, are we going?" She asked. "Bobo and Saleem are leaving now."
Of course.
Slowly, my half sleeping mind got the idea what was she talking about. She wanted to go to the city centre - quite strong word for that, honestly - and yesterday I may have said I'd accompany her. I often did - the first days I was worried sick about Pierre, so I wanted to know all the updates about his state.
Unfortunately, we didn't have any reception on mobile phones, only landlines, so simply calling from my phone wasn't an option. We had to travel an hour to go to the post office and call from a local paid phone booth. Since it was strongly advised to have a male accompanying a woman on travel, if anyone from the hospital staff left, they let us know so we could come.
This time, we hopped on the motorcycles and sat behind two local nurses, Bobo and Saleem. They were much, much younger than me and we've already shared some trips together.
Also, I've joined them running on some mornings, but usually the weather was too dry for me to keep up with the two young guys.
This Tuesday they had an important mission beside wandering around the city centre - they also needed to bring back polio vaccines to the hospital.
We reached the Post Office by noon. The road was okay to ride, but some clouds were gathering on the sky - and it made our boys excited.
"It's rain. And soon," Bobo said with a wide smile on his face. He said it like it was Christmas time at once. We changed a concerned look with Tamara, and headed to the phone booths, dialing the well known numbers as fast as we could.
"No worries," Saleem waved. "It's nothing," he said.
I looked back at the phone and waited for Cgatles to pick up. It was just time for them to let Pierre out of the ICU. I was still concerned about him, and no day passed without me thinking about his accident at the Hungaroring circuit.
I frequently called Charles - because he was there with his friend all the time. He stayed in Hungary, and today he was going to be there to support him while transferring him back to France. We got on well with the Monégasque - not awkward moments or cringy attitude on his side so far.
"Si?" Charles answered his phone with a serious tone, I thought something wrong had happened.
"Hey, it's me," I said but I realised this sentence had no information in it.
"Clara," he said as his voice became happier at once. "I thought you'd call yesterday," he said.
I frowned.
"Isn't it the day of the transfer?"
"No, he was released yesterday," he chuckled. "Anyway, he wants to say hi."
I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I waited to hear Pierre's voice over the dirty, old phone.
"Hi, Clara."
It was really him. God, I felt so happy. He was happy. I was sure he was smiling. And it was the most beautiful feeling in the world.
I saved him.
Well, technically a whole bunch of people saved him, working closely together, as a team. But anyways. I was a part of that.
"Pierre!" I shrieked into the phone, and got the attention of everyone quietly minding their business at the post office so far.
"Haha, I'm alive! And you are not here, so I can't thank you properly," he said. "Why did you run away? Was Charles that horrible with you?"
I couldn't help but chuckle.
"No, he wasn't. I just... needed a break. Anyway, I'm so happy for you," I changed the subject, and asked him a thousand questions.
When we finally hung up, I called Max. I didn't need to wait for him to pick up.
"Clara, you are way too creepy with these numbers. How should I know that it's not some prank call?" He asked when he picked up.
He was in Saint Tropez, chilling for a week now. I called him a couple of times, and he always acted a bit distant. He answered all my questions but barely spoke by himself and didn't ask about me. It was so strange. I believed he was still a bit angry with me for leaving.
"Sorry, I still don't have reception," I grimaced. "How is everything?"
"Yeah, nothing interesting," he mumbled. "We had a nice barbecue yesterday."
"Great. With whom?" I asked cautiously. I didn't want to sound nosy, but I was dying to know a bit about Daniel.
A few days ago, Max told me a half sentence about Daniel doing something, so I knew he was there with him.
Since then, I had my mind wrapped around the image of them two having fun together. Gosh, I wanted to be there!
"Well, Victoria and her man friend," he giggled. "Dan is here, and also Martin with a couple of friends, but you don't know them."
Again, nothing. He almost bit half of his name while saying it. Why doesn't he tell me anything about Daniel? Give me some details, Max! Tell me about his smile, and if he wears his magnificently smelling hoodies at night. If he thinks about me that much like I do about him.
"I see," I mumbled. "And how are you?"
"I could be better, you know," he said after a few minutes, and I almost saw him shrugging like a pouting child. "If my best friend was here with me instead of being lost in the jungle somewhere in Africa."
I needed to chuckle on that.
"I'm not lost. And there's no jungle," I said with an eye roll.
"I could argue on the first one," he said.
And I knew he was right.
We were talking for a few more minutes but then I needed to hang up. The rain was about to start and Saleem was waving to hurry me.
"Need to go now," I said and a tired sigh was the answer.
"Yeah, yeah. Till the next time, I guess," Max mumbled and hung up.
I thought he wasn't impressed about my call, and it made me a bit sad. I hoped he'd tell me about their vacation, and would be curious about my time here.
Well, I guess I was wrong.
We hopped on the bikes as the guys were desperate to get back before the rain. We nearly made it to the halfway point when I felt the first drops on my forehead. I felt Bobo pushing for a higher speed, but it was a lost cause. We were soaked 5 minutes later.
I glanced to the back, the vaccines were fortunately packed in a seamless package.
Us and our package getting wet was one concern but the other one was the roads' condition. The closer we got to Mweso, the muddier the roads got. At one turn, the other bike just got stuck in the mud with Saleem and Tamara on top.
"Fuck," the Ukranian girl shrieked. "Just fuck this rain."
Saleem shook his head, as he tried to get out of the mud desperately starting again his bike.
"Help to push," he said, and we gathered around the bike to push it and tried with some loud grunts. It didn't move an inch.
"Again!" Saleem told us desperately.
We tried but it slowly became obvious - with the road getting worse by the minute - this won't help.
"Maybe you could try it, Tamara," I said. "You're lighter in weight."
They glanced at me, and Saleem nodded.
"Yes, you should try, I push," he said. The Ukranian girl swallowed hard, but she sat on the bike anyway and pulled the ignition. I wiped my face to clear my eyes of the rain.
"Now!" Saleem shouted and with a painful cry of the engine the bike was free.
I heard Tamara's happy laugh, and my mouth slid to a wide smile. Almost like Daniel's.
His image made my smile fade. What is he doing now? We will meet in less than two weeks and I had no idea what to expect from that or the next half of the season.
Sometimes I had this strong urge to call him. Or at least message him.
Well, who am I kidding? I tried so hard to take this hiatus, and get my feelings sorted out. More or less I even managed to do it, but that cheeky Australian's face popped back to my mind all the time. And I smiled like a fool as it did.
I didn't call or message him though. Why? Maybe I was afraid of a possible rejection. Maybe he was happy with Daniela. Or maybe he wasn't but he found someone over the crazy parties at Saint Tropez. Maybe that's why Max never mentioned him to me.
God, I am miserable. Now what? - I sighed as I crossed my arms over my chest and looked out of the window on the plane.
I had a real good and beneficial time in Congo and never regretted choosing to do this assignment. What was more, I was strongly thinking about coming back...
All the adventure thrilled me and even the riskiest, scariest situation gave me chills in a good way as I thought back to my weeks there.
Only, I wouldn't feel this tired! The Belgian Grand Prix was only in 3 days, and honestly, I only could think about sleeping on my way home. Also, since I sat down in my seat I was shivering, but it was surely because of the long missed air conditioning.
Well, I should have known at this point that something was off.
"Miss?" The stewardess gently placed her hand on my shoulder, and stroked it. I opened my eyes, but first I had no idea where I was. Then, as I glanced around I saw I was still sitting on the plane, which actually has already landed in London.
I felt a terrible headache beside the shivering.
"Are you all right?" The stewardess asked me with some concern in her voice.
"Sure," I nodded and tried to get up. I stood, but my legs just gave in, and everything went dark somehow.
Next thing I remember was the same stewardess' horrified face as she tried to make me lay down on the seats.
"Help me! She fainted!" She shouted to her colleague.
I wanted to tell her I was okay, but I didn't have enough force to do so. I just wanted to lay there and sleep. Maybe with some blankets, because I felt my body shake with the cold. I was also sweating which didn't help.
After a while a doctor came aboard and told me I needed to get transferred to a hospital. They checked my identity, and they called me Dr. Horner from then, which felt nice.
In the ambulance, the technician asked me where I was before. With the infusions dripping, I had the blood pressure finally to be able to answer.
"Congo," I said.
"And did you take chloroquine?" He asked. I blinked.
No I didn't. I could choose, if I wanted to take the prevention for malaria and risk its possible serious side effects or not - and risk getting it. Since the area I visited wasn't that affected, well I opted for the second.
I shook my head. The guy gave a look at his colleague and grimaced.
"Well, it's still better than ebola," he shook his head.
I got admitted to the Royal London Hospital. By the time they took the blood tests I felt better, and my fever ceased.
However it wasn't all great news - it sounded exactly like malaria should be working. Temperatures and chills coming and going after a couple of hours, duration depending on the exact subtype.
While I was waiting for my lab results, I got on my phone, and called my sister to warn her of my possible state. I could even eat a little, before I got chills again, and fell back to sleep.
"Dr. Horner?"
I heard my name. I peeked through my lashes and there was an older doctor standing by my side. I didn't really care about her, my bigger problems were the sweating and the cold I felt beside the terrible, splitting headache.
"Speaking," I grunted.
"Your results just came back. It is positive for malaria falciparum."
Fucking fantastic! It was my only thought before I drifted back to sleep.
I had some very troubling dreams. One was that I was married to Léon, who was a team principal for Ferrari at that time. I was pregnant and all I knew was that I was in desperate need for chicken wings.
"Why don't you just give her something stronger so she improves faster?"
"Don't be kidding me, she is though I am sure she makes it in no time."
"Clara, I'm so sorry for being angry with you. I'm a jerk. And a dumb, jealous prick."
I thought I heard Max, but it wasn't possible. He was in Spa, currently preparing for his race. I think it's this fucking fever, making me delusional. I felt all my bones aching, and my skin was on fire. I coughed, and turned to my side cradling my own body.
Next time I woke up to a warm touch on my side. It was careful, hesitant at first, like it wanted to say sorry to bother you. I thought it was the nurse again. Then whoever it was became more brave, and stroked my side a couple times. Well, it certainly wasn't the nurse.
The touch of the warm, dry hand felt soothing. Calming. It was nice to shiver finally once not because of the cold.
I've heard a long, heavy sigh.
I didn't bother to waste my non-existing strength to turn around, I just fell back to sleep with the loving touch wandering on my back.
I woke up in the morning, to the sound of the door opening. An older, fair nurse came in with a tight, polite smile on her face.
"Doctor Horner," the nurse nodded at me.
"Morning," I said. I could open my eyes, and I even sat up on the bed. Finally.
"Good day to you," she smiled. "You look better."
"I feel better," I smiled back at her. And I did. It turned out I was in pretty bad shape for a week, and gave my doctors a couple of sleepless hours with my state not improving for the medications I recieved. But with a smart switch of meds my state began to improve.
She told me I was delusional for the short time I was awake, but fortunately I was sleeping most of the week.
"God, I missed the Grand Prix," I sighed.
The nurse smirked at me from the other end of the room.
"Please don't start it again. Those gentlemen were enough for once," she sighed.
"Who?" I asked with the snap of my head. "What gentlemen?"
"I'm not following this sport my dear, but after seeing them I had to check for myself," she gave me a side glance. "The ward went crazy to see all these famous racing drivers! So I watched the race last Sunday, and I have to say it was exciting, I think I'll..."
"Who was here?" I interrupted her drabbling. She looked at me with a slightly offended grimace.
"Who wasn't. Mr. Max, almost every day. And his friend, the funny one with the Australian accent. Then the handsome one came...,"
Oh shit. And did I actually sleep this through?
Seemed like it.
"And there aas your uncle..."
I collapsed back to the bed. Shit.
From then, fortunately my state improved fast. I had to stay in the hospital for another week, but I felt stronger, and well, I could remember my visitors.
It was Vicki who came that day, right after she finished at Milton Keynes she drove there first thing as she read my message.
"Clara," she hugged me. "Finally! We were so worried," she looked at me. "You should have seen the boys. Absolutely unusable. Both," she gave me a meaningful look.
"I'm sorry," I grimaced and asked her to fill me up about the things I've missed.
"Now, to cheer you up," she began with a playful smile appearing on her face. "I can finally invite you to the wedding," she said.
"When is that? Where?" I asked enthusiastically. I was so eager to get out of that hospital bed, the promise of a happy wedding was more than a good motivation.
"Actually, it's next weekend! Right before Singapore. Get yourself together for that, please."
"I will be there," I nodded seriously.
Next one was Max. He came so late, I was half asleep. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but he was never good at that. He sat down on the side of my bed, and he sighed.
I couldn't hold back my laugh anymore, I was so happy to see him. I giggled.
"Clara? What? Are you awake?" He looked at me surprised.
"Well, it's quite late for a visitor, but yes I am," I smiled as he threw himself at me and hugged me hard and didn't release me for the following minutes.
"I knew you'd recover in no time," he mumbled into my neck. "But god, I missed you like hell."
We talked until we both fell asleep with Max at the end of my bed. The same nurse came in the morning as yesterday.
"Doctor Horner!" She gasped. "It's not allowed to have men spending the night!"
"Sorry, Lydia," Max said, rubbing his eyes. "We have a meeting anyway," he murmured. "So I'm off, but I come back as soon as I can, okay?"
I nodded, and buried myself deep into the cushions since Nurse Lydia gave me another, scolding side-look.
Max came back towards the evening again, but he was not alone.
"Sorry to bother you with this, but he insisted," the Dutch wrinkled his nose theatrically, and opened the door wider so Daniel could step in.
"Thanks man, feels good you think I'm just bothering her," he mumbled, but his eyes already met mine. He smiled, and I nearly couldn't believe that smile was identical to the one I had in my memory for these long weeks. I tried to suppress the feeling of a hundred butterflies in terrible need of an escape through my stomach.
"Anyway, I want to speak to your doctor," Max mumbled and stepped out of the room to find someone to mock.
Daniel looked back at me and sighed. He walked to the side of my bed and sat down. He inspected me for a minute without saying anything.
"Jesus, Clara. You scared everyone to death," he said quietly, making me grimace.
"I know. I was scared too," I said. "But it's nearly over now, and I'll be good as new in no time," I smirked.
"I couldn't be happier about that," he smiled with all of his teeth showing and his eyes shining bright. "So, you're coming to Vicki and Jake's wedding?"
I smirked.
"I do."
His smile got wider, but then, it slowly faded and switched to a more serious look.
"Listen, I...," he began sheepishly.
I gulped just because I looked at him. What? I listen, Daniel. I am all ears.
But then I also gasped when the door literally burst open.
"You are allowed to go home!" Max shouted from the doorway with both his hands in the air triumphantly. "I did the job baby!" He giggled.
I looked back at Daniel, who was also smirking.
What? What did you want to tell me?
But Daniel didn't look like he wanted to continue our unfinished conversation. He stood up, and reached out with his hand, asking for mine.
"Let's get out of this goddamn hellhole, shall we?"