needed.
“I’m fine, just ready to go home.” Deja yawned.
“Is she really fine? I doubt she’s ready to go home just yet.” He didn’t want to take her word for it, not unless a trained professional agreed. After seeing the recent news on head injuries, he wouldn’t allow Deja to play Russian roulette with her life.
“No. Not just yet. I paged the doc on call and he’s instructed us to have neuro come down for a consult.” The nurse patted Deja’s hand in comfort.
“I don’t need treatment. I just bumped my head a bit. How much will this cost me? I can’t afford tests to tell me there’s nothing wrong.”
Derek crossed over and sat on a stool next to Deja. “I want you to have the tests. We played things your way by not calling an ambulance. We just saved you a few hundred by bringing you in, have the tests done.”
“My insurance is already high. I can’t afford for the premium to rise. I’d rather outpatient it at my doctor’s office tomorrow.”
“Then let me pay for your care.” He put her palm to his hand and kissed her soft skin. “Before you say no, consider it a concession for the ass I was acting like bringing you in.”
“That’s a hefty fine to pay for being such an a—”
The registered nurse, Jenny smiled at them. “She’s ready for a room in the back. Radiology will come down for her to take her for a CT scan and we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you.” Derek helped Deja up. “I’m not budging on this.”
“It’ll cost you, in more than just money. This is a big deal.”
Don’t I know. Don’t I know.
In room two they waited for radiology to show. Since she wasn’t in critical condition other trauma patients came first. The wait was killing him though. Hard to believe hospitals still made him nervous after all this time. Luckily, caring for Deja kept his mind in the present, leaving his past dead and buried where it belonged.
Fifty minutes turned into an hour. In the background he heard sirens wailing. Some cop show played on the television above the bed. Derek stroked her hand when she’d nod off, to keep her awake. When she realized the serious nature of her injury, he could only hope she’d show more concern than she was letting on. “You want anything to drink?”
“No. I just want to sleep.”
“I know beautiful, but not yet. We got awhile yet till you can.” A tap on the door pulled his attention away. “Enter.”
“We’re here for Deja Crane.” The tech came in with a wheelchair and checked Deja’s hospital band with the paperwork. “Date of birth?”
“March 22 nd , 1986.”
“Want me to come with you?” Derek asked.
“Sir, I know you want to be there for her, but honestly you’d be better hanging out here. The waiting room upstairs is small. We’re just taking a picture and bringing her right back,” the technician explained as he helped Deja into the chair.
Time ticked by in slow painful increments. Restless energy coursed through him without his usual workload to take his mind off the present. Sitting in the hospital caused his gut to clench in remembrance of his past, although this time as a visitor and not an occupant. He sat on the stool watching a local television program without really absorbing it. His mind spun toward worry. Damn. She has to be all right.
Restlessly agitated, he moved from the stool, to pacing, to peeking out the curtained sliding glass door, hoping to see the nurse passing by. The beeps and sounds filling the silence didn’t distract him enough to bring a semblance of peace. His mind drifted back years to his hospital stay. He fought the resurfacing memories he’d yet to put behind him, the events cultivating him into the man he’d become.
“Where is she?”
The frantic voice saved him from his unwanted reminiscing. A distressed woman ran smack dab into him, bouncing off his chest. His quick reflexes saved her from careening into the floor. “Where’s who?”
“My sister Deja?”
Derek
“I’m fine, just ready to go home.” Deja yawned.
“Is she really fine? I doubt she’s ready to go home just yet.” He didn’t want to take her word for it, not unless a trained professional agreed. After seeing the recent news on head injuries, he wouldn’t allow Deja to play Russian roulette with her life.
“No. Not just yet. I paged the doc on call and he’s instructed us to have neuro come down for a consult.” The nurse patted Deja’s hand in comfort.
“I don’t need treatment. I just bumped my head a bit. How much will this cost me? I can’t afford tests to tell me there’s nothing wrong.”
Derek crossed over and sat on a stool next to Deja. “I want you to have the tests. We played things your way by not calling an ambulance. We just saved you a few hundred by bringing you in, have the tests done.”
“My insurance is already high. I can’t afford for the premium to rise. I’d rather outpatient it at my doctor’s office tomorrow.”
“Then let me pay for your care.” He put her palm to his hand and kissed her soft skin. “Before you say no, consider it a concession for the ass I was acting like bringing you in.”
“That’s a hefty fine to pay for being such an a—”
The registered nurse, Jenny smiled at them. “She’s ready for a room in the back. Radiology will come down for her to take her for a CT scan and we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you.” Derek helped Deja up. “I’m not budging on this.”
“It’ll cost you, in more than just money. This is a big deal.”
Don’t I know. Don’t I know.
In room two they waited for radiology to show. Since she wasn’t in critical condition other trauma patients came first. The wait was killing him though. Hard to believe hospitals still made him nervous after all this time. Luckily, caring for Deja kept his mind in the present, leaving his past dead and buried where it belonged.
Fifty minutes turned into an hour. In the background he heard sirens wailing. Some cop show played on the television above the bed. Derek stroked her hand when she’d nod off, to keep her awake. When she realized the serious nature of her injury, he could only hope she’d show more concern than she was letting on. “You want anything to drink?”
“No. I just want to sleep.”
“I know beautiful, but not yet. We got awhile yet till you can.” A tap on the door pulled his attention away. “Enter.”
“We’re here for Deja Crane.” The tech came in with a wheelchair and checked Deja’s hospital band with the paperwork. “Date of birth?”
“March 22 nd , 1986.”
“Want me to come with you?” Derek asked.
“Sir, I know you want to be there for her, but honestly you’d be better hanging out here. The waiting room upstairs is small. We’re just taking a picture and bringing her right back,” the technician explained as he helped Deja into the chair.
Time ticked by in slow painful increments. Restless energy coursed through him without his usual workload to take his mind off the present. Sitting in the hospital caused his gut to clench in remembrance of his past, although this time as a visitor and not an occupant. He sat on the stool watching a local television program without really absorbing it. His mind spun toward worry. Damn. She has to be all right.
Restlessly agitated, he moved from the stool, to pacing, to peeking out the curtained sliding glass door, hoping to see the nurse passing by. The beeps and sounds filling the silence didn’t distract him enough to bring a semblance of peace. His mind drifted back years to his hospital stay. He fought the resurfacing memories he’d yet to put behind him, the events cultivating him into the man he’d become.
“Where is she?”
The frantic voice saved him from his unwanted reminiscing. A distressed woman ran smack dab into him, bouncing off his chest. His quick reflexes saved her from careening into the floor. “Where’s who?”
“My sister Deja?”
Derek
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