- 01 Feb 2019, 22:58
By the time the man had opened the door, her father was waiting there, arms barricaded over his chest, a bottle of water in his hand. He stood as a sentry, leaving the two men at an impasse until he finally shifted a shoulder behind him, allowing the doctor through. By the time he reached her bed to hand her the bottle of water, her heart was pummeling her rib cage.
Just like that, he was gone.
But she wasn't focused on that departure, just the way her dad stared at the threshold of the door, tension propping his frame.
All she could do then was tentatively reach over and squeeze his hand, calming him. It took a few moments, but he settled back into himself, his attention on her, as it always was, as it always would be.
The next few hours blurred in to one another after that. It took a while, but the nurse eventually came to take her blood. The usual. Which arm do you prefer? Offering her left arm. Tourniquet. The same warnings. The needle going in; a good nature laugh. You have good veins. One vial. Two vials. A bandage. Dry, well meaning compliments. Assurances that it wouldn't be long until she'd be seen again.
In the end, after another hour's wait, and long after another nurse had come to hook her nose up to oxygen, they were informed that she'd have to stay the night, there was no one really available to read her results until tomorrow. It was better to keep her under watch, anyway, they reasoned, what with her difficulty breathing.
In the very least, her father waited until the woman was gone to vehemently rant about the lack of professionalism. What kind of racket are they running here?
And Elise, shoulders shaking with subdued coughs, did her best to listen. She listened a great deal until it was time for him to leave. Her eyes remained affixed to the wall when he approached and pressed a long kiss against her temple, promising that he'd come back the minute visiting hours started.
It didn't matter much to her. She just knew she hated this part about hospital stays. In the end, you'd always end up alone. Diagnostic and monitoring equipment was seldom good company.
She milked what little she could from the nurses that came to check on her. Martha, the nice one from before, had been the most talkative, though eventually she always had to go check on someone else. She was given dinner that she barely touched on account of the nausea, and played what little she could on her phone until it couldn't hold her interest.
It wasn't as if this infection made it any easier. Her symptoms, on top of everything else, made it difficult not to be miserable. There were moments, especially now, when she was laid back, staring at the hands she'd propped up against her bent knees, when she very much wanted to cry, but did everything in her power not to.
She wasn't going to be a big fucking pathetic baby.
Her fingers curled around the blanket that covered her lower half, and she frowned, forcing herself to lay back against the pillows and drown out the fit she had by listening to the drone of the medical equipment.
Played By: Clytemnestra