Page 35 of Blinded By Love

“Yea.”

Another nurse, a guy, rolls a nursing bed next to us. “Okay lay her on there and he will check her in with you while getting her a room.” The nurse behind the desk says.

The nurse takes the nursing bed and starts rolling. “What is her full name?”

“Jaclyn King.”

“Age?”

“Nineteen I think.”

“And you said she had drinks tonight? What drinks?”

“I saw her take a few shots of Fireball and then some lemonade mixed with vodka.”

“Okay and has she had anything to eat?”

“Yea.”

I answer all of his basic questions easily, like I know all of the basic information about her by heart which I don’t. I just pay attention to her.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Does she have any medical conditions?”

My thoughts go back to the patch on her arm. “I don’t know but she has this patch on her arm.”

The nurse furrows his eyebrows. “Patch?”

“Yea, she has it on all the time.”

I see realization take over his face slowly and she looks at my sweater on her. “I need you to take off her sweatshirt.”

Blood in my veins boils because I don’t want anyone seeing her in the clothes she’s wearing. “Why?’

“I need to see the patch.”

I don’t take off her sweater, instead I roll a sleeve up her arm, revealing the patch. His eyes go to the patch on her arm and his eyebrows furrow. “We need to get a blood sugar check,” he mutters which makes me even more confused.

“What’s that? Why does she need that?”

“Do you know if she has type 1 or type 2 diabetes?”

Diabetes?

Even more confusion.

What?

What the fuck is he talking about?

Is that why she is throwing up? Does that have to do with that patch on her fucking arm?

“I don’t know. I didn’t know she even had that.”

He looks at my hands and sees that I have nothing. “Where is her bag? Her insulin? Ketones?”

My heart races again as he asks me all of these questions about her diabetes which I know shit about.

---