Page 21 of On the Edge

“Thank you, Nurse.” Mrs. Egret called after me as I almost collided with my friend Judy, another NP, in the hall.

“Wow, that was an incredibly diplomatic handling of those parents,Nurse.” Despite the late hour, Judy was in a merry mood, with her long gray braid swishing across her broad shoulders as we walked toward the locker room.

“Hush, Judy,” I scolded while chuckling. “How was your shift?”

“The usual cough-and-cold winter mix. Gotta love January. But I did get a set of triplets with Hand, Foot, and Mouth.”

“Those poor parents.” I shuddered as we entered the locker room, and I went straight to my locker, more than ready to head out. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might be getting too old for swing shifts.”

“Me too.” Judy grinned as she retrieved a thick wool coat. “I can’t wait until the new urgent care place opens.”

“You took the job?” My shoulders slumped. Another work friend down. Working in emergency medicine was hard on the body and soul, and turnover was a real issue for my role as supervisorandfor work friendships.

“I was ready.” Judy shrugged, but her face stayed kind with sympathetic eyes. “Better pay, better hours, better patient experience. I can’t wait. And you really need to listen to the offer from the family practice group again.”

A local family practice had tried to recruit me to a full-time NP job a couple of times, and while I was tempted toget back to regular patient care and establish long-term patient relationships, I always ended up deciding to stay.

“I’m needed here.” I gave my stock answer.

“And you do love to be needed.” Judy sighed and patted me on the shoulder on her way out. After she was gone, I made quick work of exchanging my scrubs for street clothes of jeans and a long-sleeve thermal shirt.

I thought about Judy’s words my whole drive home. Was it so bad to want to be needed? It gave my life meaning and purpose. Sure, sometimes I put my own desires last, but I managed.

As I entered the house, I resolved to put my need for sleep above my urge to check on Declan, but then I noticed his door was open with a low light on. Oz lay sprawled on the foot of the bed while Declan reclined against the pillows, damp towel over his face, covers half off.

Uh-oh.So much for sleep.

“You okay?” I asked from the doorway as if it wasn’t already clear he wasn’t.

“Not really.” Declan released a groan. He had a bare chest again, but mercifully, he appeared to have on gray sweatpants. “Sick headache that won’t quit. Oz seems to think he’s my nurse.”

“He’s good at that.” I strode over to the bed. “Tell me about the headache.”

“You’re coming off a long shift.” Declan pulled the towel off his face and struggled to sit up. “You don’t need my complaints.”

I helped him sit up, arranging the pillows behind him.

“I’m still in nurse practitioner mode.” I tried to sound a little less worn out than I felt. “And you’re a heck of a lot less trouble than the parade of second-guessing parents I dealt with tonight. God save me from patients who love amateur medical research.”

“Helicopter parents are the worst.” Declan made a sour face. “I thought about calling my dad after I puked the second time, but I didn’t want the lecture.”

“You threw up?” I bent to examine him more closely. His skin was pastier than usual, a more sickly shade of pale.

“From the headache pain, yeah.” He gave a weak wave of a hand. “And it’s the usual headache stuff, just a bad one. Light sensitivity, upset stomach, throbbing pain. I’m exhausted, yet I can’t seem to sleep. The meds aren’t helping, and yes, I took them for once.”

“Hmm.” I made a thoughtful noise. If Declan had taken medication, he had to be really hurting. I pulled out my pen light and slowly moved it in front of his face.

“Ow.” He tried to bat my hand away. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your pupils,” I said patiently. “Trying to evaluate if this is concerning enough to take you in to rule out another hemorrhage.”

“It’s not.” Declan sounded like an authority, but I wasn’t so sure. “It’s a migraine. I know them by now.”

“I trust you to know your own body?—”

“Thank you.” He cut me off with a tight smile.

“But I think you should call your neurologist in the morning.”

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