Page 38 of The Heat of Us

Mine were getting increasingly desperate when they realised I had moved, going from denial (“When will you be back from your holiday?”) before oscillating wildly between bargaining (“We can explain everything, just come back and see us”) and depression with a heavy dose of guilt tripping (“I cooked the black bean dish you liked tonight but you weren’t here to eat it”).

Acceptance was clearly nowhere on the horizon.

I had been on my way to catch up with my sister and her pack when I found out Hazel liked true crime documentaries the hard way, completely ruining my appetite.

Hazel

How long does it take to dissolve a dead body in acid? Does the composition of the acid matter? Surely it would.

what the fuck

I would google it but I don’t want to end up on some sort of list

And you want me to instead?

If you wouldn’t mind. Doctor patient confidentiality right?

Who is the patient? The dissolving body??

But no matter what, she was always the best fucking part of my day.

I think the barista gave me regular milk.

It tastes too good.

Hazel

RIP your bum

As far as getting a handle on my alpha, throwing myself into my residency was probably the best thing for me. I spent those first few weeks too busy trying to navigate a new hospital, a new system and a whole bunch of new faces to think too hard about whether my funny, charming, effervescent scent matched omega lived near me.

Scent sympathetic! corrected the chirpy Juno-sounding voice in my head.

Mine, retorted the barbaric chest-beating alpha.

“Ben,” prompted my consultant, Dr. Mitch Anderson.

Oh shit. Rounds.

“Would you like to present the case?”

I glanced at the patient we were huddled next to and then down at the workstation.

“Mr. Nguyen, a 55 year old male was admitted with left-sided weakness, acute dysphasia and confusion. He has a past history of type two diabetes. Scans show a small infarction in his brain.”

Wow, I sounded like I knew what I was doing. I may have been the worst brother ever but I would probably make a fairly passable doctor.

“What are your thoughts on Mr. Nguyen’s condition?" Mitch prompted.

“Based on the CT scan results, I’m thinking of ruling out any other contributing factors.” I gave Mr. Nguyen what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “How are you feeling?”

Mr. Nguyen poked at his food tray and made a disgruntled noise.

He’s confused and his speech is impaired. What else did you expect?

“Well…ok then.” I cleared my throat, glancing at the screen as I tried to get my bearings. “I’ve requested for the nurses to do an ECG as well as further bloods, to get a wider picture.”

Mitch nodded. “Good. Keep an eye on those results. Anyone else have thoughts on Mr. Nguyen?”

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