bed. It exhausts me, but I feel much better, and the sharp stabbing pain through my head is now a bearable dull ache. The reduced pain might be due to the painkillers they have given me, but it’s doing the job so I don’t care. Denham spends the time that I’m in the bathroom, making calls and sorting out The Kingdom and although I feel bad that I’m taking up his time like this, I can’t help but feel pleased that he doesn’t want to leave my side. I’ve never had someone be so protective over me, not in a possessive way, just because he wants to make sure I’m okay.
We eat, watch TV and Denham lies on the bed with me, curling me into him and we spend the night cuddled up together. We haven’t spent a night apart since Sunday, and I know I’m being spoiled by having him to myself. There will come an evening when I will have to be on my own but I don’t think I want to. That thought in itself is unusual for me, but I really enjoy having him near and the short time we have known each other seems irrelevant. We are grown adults with our own minds so it’s no harm to anyone.
When the morning comes, I feel so much better than I did yesterday, I’m not nearly as shaky on my legs and when I insist on visiting the bathroom without the aid of a nurse, Denham gives in on the condition that I allow him to walk me to the bathroom door. He holds my hands like a father teaching his child to walk, and reluctantly lets me close the door, insisting that I do not lock it. When I get done in the bathroom after freshening up and brushing my teeth, I open the door to Denham giving me a look of relief. He kisses my cheek before letting me link my arm in his for stability and leading me back to the bed. I stop at the bottom of the bed to look at the chart. I’ve always been curious about what they write on these things, and although I’m sure I won’t understand the medical lingo, they are writing information about me so I want to see. On the front page are my basic details. Name, age, height, weight etc. I didn’t realize I had lost so much weight and make a note to myself to rectify that in the coming weeks. When I flip over to the next piece of paper I gasp.
“You did this!” I say, half laughing, half shocked.
Denham looks at me sheepishly and lets out a small shrug before opening his mouth to speak then closing it again, not knowing what to say.
“I …”
In big bold red letters are the words NO MALE NURSES.
“Denham,” I scold “You do know you can’t do that …”
“Who says?” he says petulantly.
I can’t pretend to be mad at him. It makes me laugh to think he can choose who delivers my medical care. I’m pretty sure you can’t pick and choose what doctors you have.
“You’re so cute,” I say, laughing.
“Am not.” He pretends to sulk and I hold out my arm for him to help me.
“Come here,” I say.
He steps into me and he crouches so he can nuzzle into the crook of my neck.
“I’m not having another man put his hands on you when you’re vulnerable, unless you’re in danger and I’m not here.”
“But you weren’t here when the male nurse stopped me from falling.”
He frowns and looks troubled. “No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Ari, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me. I promised you I would be, and I’m going to make damn sure it won’t happen again.”
“Denham, I was kidding. You can’t be with me all the time. As much as I want you to, it’s just not possible.”
He stays silent for a minute, hugging me as tight as my bruised ribs will allow.
“Can we call the nurse and see if I’m allowed to leave today? Please?”
Denham levels my eyes with his and searches for something, a deep concentrated look that speaks to my heart. He moves closer to me, very slowly. His lips brush mine, back then forth and he presses a meaningful kiss on my lips. So tenderly, it makes me sigh.
“Let’s see if we can get you home,” he
We eat, watch TV and Denham lies on the bed with me, curling me into him and we spend the night cuddled up together. We haven’t spent a night apart since Sunday, and I know I’m being spoiled by having him to myself. There will come an evening when I will have to be on my own but I don’t think I want to. That thought in itself is unusual for me, but I really enjoy having him near and the short time we have known each other seems irrelevant. We are grown adults with our own minds so it’s no harm to anyone.
When the morning comes, I feel so much better than I did yesterday, I’m not nearly as shaky on my legs and when I insist on visiting the bathroom without the aid of a nurse, Denham gives in on the condition that I allow him to walk me to the bathroom door. He holds my hands like a father teaching his child to walk, and reluctantly lets me close the door, insisting that I do not lock it. When I get done in the bathroom after freshening up and brushing my teeth, I open the door to Denham giving me a look of relief. He kisses my cheek before letting me link my arm in his for stability and leading me back to the bed. I stop at the bottom of the bed to look at the chart. I’ve always been curious about what they write on these things, and although I’m sure I won’t understand the medical lingo, they are writing information about me so I want to see. On the front page are my basic details. Name, age, height, weight etc. I didn’t realize I had lost so much weight and make a note to myself to rectify that in the coming weeks. When I flip over to the next piece of paper I gasp.
“You did this!” I say, half laughing, half shocked.
Denham looks at me sheepishly and lets out a small shrug before opening his mouth to speak then closing it again, not knowing what to say.
“I …”
In big bold red letters are the words NO MALE NURSES.
“Denham,” I scold “You do know you can’t do that …”
“Who says?” he says petulantly.
I can’t pretend to be mad at him. It makes me laugh to think he can choose who delivers my medical care. I’m pretty sure you can’t pick and choose what doctors you have.
“You’re so cute,” I say, laughing.
“Am not.” He pretends to sulk and I hold out my arm for him to help me.
“Come here,” I say.
He steps into me and he crouches so he can nuzzle into the crook of my neck.
“I’m not having another man put his hands on you when you’re vulnerable, unless you’re in danger and I’m not here.”
“But you weren’t here when the male nurse stopped me from falling.”
He frowns and looks troubled. “No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Ari, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me. I promised you I would be, and I’m going to make damn sure it won’t happen again.”
“Denham, I was kidding. You can’t be with me all the time. As much as I want you to, it’s just not possible.”
He stays silent for a minute, hugging me as tight as my bruised ribs will allow.
“Can we call the nurse and see if I’m allowed to leave today? Please?”
Denham levels my eyes with his and searches for something, a deep concentrated look that speaks to my heart. He moves closer to me, very slowly. His lips brush mine, back then forth and he presses a meaningful kiss on my lips. So tenderly, it makes me sigh.
“Let’s see if we can get you home,” he
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