Intensive Care

Intensive Care

Author’s note: This story features some medical activity that may or may not be 100% accurate, so apologies for any factual errors to any British endocrinologists that might be reading this. This story has a longish fuse before the action explodes, but I think it’s worth the wait.

I don’t remember how I got in here, but I need to get out. All I need is something to eat for god’s sake! The room keeps spinning and I keep passing out. The wall clock seems to have stopped even though the hand is still moving. Nothing anyone is saying is making much sense. I’ve got things I need to do! Where is Logan? Why isn’t he telling them we need to go? He should know.

I’m in hospital, I get that, but I’m just hungry – is that so hard to understand? I’ve never felt so shaky. Now they want to hook me up to some drip or other. Why can’t I just go? Logan, do something!

Here comes that doctor again. Maybe she’ll make them see sense.

“Mrs Docherty – can you hear me?”

“I can hear you fine, but why aren’t you doing anything? I’m just so hungry. Don’t you have any food here?”

“Mrs Docherty, your blood sugar is very low. We need to connect you to a drip that will put sugar into your system. Are you able to stay still while we put the drip in your arm?”

“Can’t I just eat something? Won’t that fix it?”

“We will give you something, but we just need to stablise you first. This will help with that. You’ll feel better after we have this connected.”

“Where’s my husband – can’t you listen to him? He can tell you. I have things I have to do at work. I can’t stay in here. Logan, where are you?”

There he is – behind the curtain. Why is he hiding there?

“Mary, I’m here – it’s okay. Let them do this. It won’t be long before you feel better if they do, then we can worry about all the other things.”

“Logan, you need to stay here. Don’t go away again.”

“I’m here. I’m not going away. Just let the doctor do this then they’ll know better what to do next.”

“Okay, okay… just get on with it. I can’t stay here – you know that.”

“It’s okay Mary, just lie still and let them put this in. It’ll be better then.”

I must have fallen asleep. I’m still in the hospital, but at least it’s quiet. I don’t know where I am though. It’s dark. Where is everyone?

“Logan?!”

“Mary, it’s okay, I’m just here.”

“Where am I?”

“We’re in a room on the ward. You’re lucky – they thought you would cause too much trouble in one of the big rooms so you got one of your own.”

Fine, I suppose. At least the room has stopped spinning, no matter where I am.

“Logan come here.” I haven’t been so glad to see my husband’s face for a long time, but I’ve never seen him so worried. “What did they tell you about what happened?”

He sits on the edge of the bed so he can hold my hand. This doesn’t bode well.

“They haven’t told me anything specific yet. They need to do a lot of testing. What they do know is that your blood sugar levels keep dropping dangerously low for no obvious reason, so they are going to admit you for a few days until they get to the bottom of it.”

“I don’t remember much. How long have I been here?”

“Only a few hours, but it seems a lot longer. Once they put the drip in they were able to control your sugar level, but that means you can’t go far because you need to be hooked up to the machine.”

“What time is it now?”

“It’s about 9:00 at night. Now you’re awake I can get them to bring you something to eat. They kept something aside for you. The doctor said she wants to run two hourly blood sugar tests, so unfortunately they will be coming in and out all night.”

“What about you? Are you going to go home?”

“No, they said I can stay. This is the cancer ward, so they have family members in here a lot. They will put a reclining chair in for me to sleep on.”

“The cancer ward! Oh Logan, they don’t think it’s cancer do they?”

I feel him squeeze my hand reassuringly. “No, they aren’t jumping to conclusions. It’s just that the doctors on your case are based here, so it makes sense for you to be close by.”

That doesn’t reassure me at all. How did this suddenly come crashing in on our lives?

So I’ve had my lukewarm hospital meal, which was disgusting, and now we are trying to get some rest. Apparently they will be doing tests tomorrow, but Logan will have to leave during the day to go to work. No point him sitting here all day waiting for no reason. He has somehow managed to dose off in his big blue chair. Poor thing must be exhausted from dealing with it. He said my behaviour became very strange and unpredictable, and he actually thought I was losing my marbles at times. Just low blood sugar in the end – makes people act very strange it seems.

Now is a good time to give you a bit more information about us because sleep isn’t coming easily to me.

We have been married for four years. We met at a sci-fi convention (yes, we are a bit tokat escort nerdy) and it developed from there. It’s easy to date someone that’s into the same things you are. After a fairly short romance we got engaged then married soon after. Logan’s life in the real world involves designing web services for corporations or something. Sounds nerdy again and it probably is. I don’t fully understand it but it pays well. At least his appearance isn’t overly nerdy. He just needs glasses for reading but most times his nice blue eyes are fully visible under his mop of curly strawberry blonde hair. He loves his football and still plays socially, even though we are both now career folk in our early thirties.

As for me, I’m employed by a trust that looks after some of Scotland’s historic places. I’m involved in managing visitor experience, so those feedback forms you fill out come through to me. When I’m not doing that I’m reading books and watching movies. The gym is as close as I get to a sports field. What’s funny about our shared interest in sci-fi is that I am a dead ringer for Jenny Agutter – the actress that starred in the classic 70s movie ‘Logan’s Run’. It’s one of those funny co-incidences that makes for fun at parties – we never have to think too hard about our costumes, although her’s were fairly skimpy in that movie so I have to wear a body stocking underneath. Logan doesn’t mind – he thinks my body is like Jenny’s as well and he probably has a point, although my skin and hair are a bit lighter. I sometimes wonder if that’s why he was attracted to me in the first place, but probably not. He is more of a Star Wars geek, so I imagine Natalie Portman is more his ideal. You know what men are like with a pretty face.

We live in Dundee, about an hour or so from Edinburgh. It’s a bit of a rough town in places, but thanks to Logan’s salary we have a nice apartment in the older part of the city. No kids yet, so luckily we don’t have to worry about school drop offs or anything while I’m lying here. When he said I was in the cancer ward I got that horrible cold feeling in my stomach. I’m too young for that surely? Not easy sleeping when you are in a ward full of patients facing that. Thank god they got me a room on my own.

Morning has broken, as the song goes, and Logan has left me for the rest of the day. He’s off to find breakfast, then he’ll go to work and come back in time for dinner. So now I just get to lie here. I’ve got my phone, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate and my eyesight is a bit blurry. Breakfast consisted of cereal with warmish milk and cold toast with a small bit of jam. Lovely. The highlight of the morning so far has been a trip to the loo with the help of one of the nurses. Oh yeah, and the all too frequent blood tests. At least they have put a canula in my arm so they just have to tap into that rather than making a fresh hole each time.

There’s the sound of wheels coming my way up the corridor – hopefully someone is coming to tell me what’s going on.

“Good morning Mrs Docherty, how are you feeling?” says a woman’s voice from behind the curtain that shields me from the corridor. She pulls is back and pushes in a small medical device on wheels. I remember her – she was one of the crowd of doctors and nurses that were here last night.

“I’m not sure,” I reply honestly.

“That’s understandable. You were a bit disorientated when you arrived yesterday. Do you remember much from last night?”

“Not a lot. My husband said you had to put me in here to keep me away from the other patients.”

She gives a short laugh. “Not quite like that, but let’s just say some of the things you were saying had us scratching our heads. And you took a lot of persuading to stay put.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s fine – it was funny at times.”

“Glad I could entertain you.”

“You take what you can get in here. This isn’t the happiest place in the hospital it has to be said.”

I take her in as she talks. She is wearing a white medical coat with a plain white shirt and black trousers underneath. Her name tag says Dr Prabhakar and she is an Indian lady of about medium height with a bob of dark brown hair and large brown eyes. Her lashes are long but don’t seem to be fake. Her skin is a latte brown colour, and she could almost pass for Arabic if her features weren’t so soft – her nose is round and her cheeks smooth. She is a similar age to me, maybe a couple of years younger.

“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to the device on wheels.

“This is an ultrasound. I’m going to do a scan of your liver to see what we can find. My name is Dr Prabhakar, but you can call me Priya if you like. I don’t believe in formalities on the ward.”

“Okay, Priya. Thanks for that. Can you tell me what you think is wrong, and why I’m in a cancer ward?”

“Hmm, straight to the point. That’s good, I can be honest with you. I don’t know, but I have a couple of ideas, neither of which are cancer, so please be assured of that.”

That’s yozgat escort a relief. My expression must show.

“You were admitted here because of the staff that need to see you, me included. No other reason. I’m the registrar here. Most of the time I’m situated at the desk just outside the door there, so you don’t have far to go to see me.”

“Okay. You may live to regret that though.”

She lets out another little laugh. “You are very funny Mrs Docherty.”

“Please, call me Mary. Especially if I’m on first name terms with you.”

She nods slightly and starts undoing wires and god knows what associated with the ultrasound. Before long she’s ready.

“Can I ask you to roll on your side and face the window please?”

I do, and wait as she pulls up my gown to reach my side. Fortunately I have my underwear on. She pulls up the sheet to cover my lower half and keep me warm.

“I need to warn you in advance that this is going to be cold and slimy, but there’s no other way of doing it.”

She isn’t wrong. After applying a liberal amount of freezing clear gel to my side she proceeds to run the equally cold plastic device up and down and all around my liver area before getting me to roll on my back so she can repeat the performance from the front. It’s one of those situations where you don’t really know where to look or what to say so I just shut my eyes and wait patiently until it’s over.

“All done, Mary. You can pull the covers up and warm up now. I’ll get a nurse to come around and give you a bed bath soon to wash off the goo.”

“Thanks. When will you know what’s wrong?”

“This is just part of it. We need to keep up the regular blood tests and might do a starvation diet as well. It’s going to be a day or two before we know for sure.”

“So I’ll be hooked up to this for the whole time?” I ask, gesturing at the drip in my arm.

“Unfortunately, yes. If you don’t have a steady supply of sugar you might go hypoglycemic again, and your sugar levels were dangerously low when you came in. Really quite serious.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. I’m amazed you were still conscious.”

I’m getting the idea that I need to take this quite seriously, but the doctor is doing a good job of treating it as business as usual. It probably is for her. After thanking me, she packs up her gear and disappears. It takes a while for the nurse to arrive but the sponge bath is very welcome.

Lunch come and goes – it’s a moderate improvement on breakfast, but everything people say about hospital food is true, unless you can afford a private hospital. The NHS is your budget service for everything. All I have to ‘look forward to’ is the two hourly blood test until Logan arrives at dinner time. I bring him up to date with the little I know, then we have an interesting hour or so while we go back and forth about when he should go.

One thing I need to tell you is that, although we are self-confessed sci-fi nerds, we are also still very horny for each other. Sci-fi nerds like sex too, folks! We usually have daily sex, so the fact that I’m now in here has him in a bind. To get around it he teases me with lots of kisses and sneaky strokes under the sheets, while I suggest he cools off and save it for when I get home. The fact that I have a room to myself gives him the opportunity to push his luck and I finally give in and let him rub my clit while I reach inside his pants and rub his straining cock. I find it hard to reach a climax given how edgy it is, but he eventually unloads inside his pants and sits back happy.

“You are the end,” I tell him. “Saves you doing it by yourself later though.”

“As if I would.”

“Of course you would. I didn’t come down in the last shower,” I mock scold him. I’m going to miss out, which doesn’t make me happy, but I keep my attitude bright. It’s the only entertainment I’m going to get in here.

Expecting him to sleep in that chair again is unfair, so I have to say goodbye so he can go home and get some rest. I sext him a couple of times when he gets home, telling him how much I miss him, then I try and get some sleep myself.

The next day is tedious. They put me on a starvation diet, which at least spares me the hospital food, but I’m ravenous when they are finished just before dinner time and I polish off my evening meal regardless of the quality. The only staff I see during the day are nurses following the test schedule, but Dr Priya put her head in the door to say hi as she was passing through on her rounds. She seems nice, and not at all doctor-like. Sort of cynical in a positive way, if that makes sense. A bit like me I suppose.

During the day I had a visit from my Mum, who had driven up from Stirling for the day. She wanted to get a hotel room, but I told her it isn’t that serious. I don’t want to be a burden on people. Then some friends called in with gifts of food, which didn’t help my starving stomach. I had circular conversations with all of them. It isn’t easy being zonguldak escort a patient I discovered. You feel like some kind of party host, worrying about their comfort, even though they are the ones who are supposed to be making you feel better. I was exhausted by the time visiting time was over.

Logan visited again after dinner and we had another session of sneaky intimacy before he slunk off home alone.

Groundhog Day has dawned. Day three of boredom and inconvenience. I hate having to be helped to visit the bathroom. I feel like an old age pensioner. Nothing much happened in the morning apart from that, then at lunchtime I got a visit from Priya. She seemed a bit flustered.

“Gosh, I’ve been busy this morning. People seem to get admitted at the worst time, so I’m behind on my rounds. I was going to call in earlier, sorry.”

“That’s okay. You can share my lunch if you like.”

She looks at it and wrinkles her nose. “I’m fine thanks, I have my own. If you don’t mind, can I eat it in here with you?”

That’s unusual, but sure, why not. “Yes, no problem, have a seat.”

She goes back to her station and returns with a pre-packed sandwich. Sitting down, she flicks her hair back and smiles. “I’ve got the results of the tests and I’ve got to say, I think I’m lucky to have you, Mary.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it looks like you have an insulinoma. It’s incredibly rare. Most doctors can go their whole career without ever seeing one.”

“And that makes you lucky?”

“Well, yes. Doctors are like stamp collectors. We love the rare cases. Gives us bragging rights at conferences and the like.”

“Not sure I should say you’re welcome, but there you go.”

She smiles again. It’s an interesting smile she has. Sort of introverted, but I can tell she isn’t a shy person. Maybe it’s just her intellect keeping any extrovert behaviour in check.

She hasn’t told me the whole story yet, so I prompt her. “So what can you do to fix it?”

She has taken a bite of her sandwich so I wait till she can speak again. “Hmmm? Oh. Well, it’s a tiny growth on your liver that leads to an over production of insulin. You know about diabeties?”

“Yes, sort of.”

“Well, diabetics have trouble producing insulin so their level of blood sugar rises too high. You have the opposite problem. The little growth I’m talking about triggers too much insulin in your blood so you end up burning up the sugar as fast as you consume it. The easiest way to correct it is to cut it out.”

“Surgery? Won’t that take ages to do?”

“Do you mean you’ll end up sitting on a wait list?”

“Yes – you hear about people waiting years for surgery.”

“In some cases that’s true, but I’ve made the case that this is an emergency so you are actually having it tomorrow.”

“What? Really?”

“Hmm-hmm. The alternative is you walk around with a drip in your arm 24/7.”

“Oh. Okay, when you put it like that.”

“You’ll go down for an MRI in the morning and we’ll do the operation in the afternoon. It’s a simple procedure actually. Just keyhole surgery. We can do it in the day clinic. You’ll lose a small percentage of liver, but you won’t even notice that. Have you had an MRI before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You would know if you had. We feed you into a tube that makes a horrendous noise for about ten minutes and we get a 3-D image of the part we need to remove to hand to the surgeon.”

“Can I get a copy of the picture to hang up?”

She laughs out loud. “Of course. I’ll see about getting it framed if you like!”

We laugh together for a bit. For a doctor she is very easy to talk to. To lighten the subject I ask a more personal question about her. It opens up a very interesting line of conversation.

“So how long have you been in the UK?”

She pauses, as if considering how to answer. “Only a few months. I needed to leave India, and the NHS will take doctors from anywhere at the moment, so I just walked into a job here.”

“Why did you have to leave India?”

She pauses for thought again and looks slightly troubled. Oops, maybe that’s a bit too personal. I’m expecting her to say she left because she supported the wrong political party or something, but the answer is more complicated.

“I had to leave to get away from my family.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s good to talk about it actually. I basically left to avoid being married to the man of my nightmares.”

“Mr Wrong was it?”

“You have no idea. My family picked him for me years ago. That’s the way it goes in traditional arrangements. But he grew into a cruel, arrogant bugger that would have treated me badly and ruined my life. So I ran away.”

The pained look she holds back tells me there’s more, but I’m reluctant to ask. If she hated him she would be happier to have run. She can see my curiosity.

“I can tell you aren’t stupid Mary, and yes that isn’t all. You see, I had also fallen in love with someone else. Someone my family would never approve of.”

“Sounds like a Bollywood movie plot. What was the other guy like?”

“Yes, it is almost. They have done 100s of movies like that, but not exactly like my story.” She gives me a searching look. “Can I be honest with you Mary?”