“Are you doing ACNP or FNP?”
“Dr. Tomblin wanted me to have the FNP for the position in the ER.”
“That’s right—Wes told me they made a position for you. So, Tomblin wants FNP because it focuses on care for all age ranges?” Haley nodded. “Makes sense.” I took her laptop from her. “Well, if you want, I can run through some of these practiceexams, and if there’s anything you’re not sure about or have questions about…”
“Yeah, that’ll work.” She shifted on the sofa, turning to face me as she sat crossed-legged. “Hit me.”
I spent two hours with Haley that night, quizzing her and helping her study. And it wasn’t weird at all. If anything, it took my mind off of everything else that usually filled my head.
I went back on Tuesday for another couple of hours, and we exchanged numbers at the end of the night so I could let her know about the next couple of days.
On Wednesday, I had to work, and instead of going to her place after my shift, she met me at mine. We didn’t get too much studying done that night, however, because Maverick decided he wanted all of the attention, and she seemed happy to indulge him.
On Thursday, I got stuck working late, but I told her I could come to her place on Friday.
I had therapy on Friday afternoon, and when I left there, I was a little on edge. I talked to Nate about how I’d been thinking of Noah a lot more than usual, and not just Noah, but Melanie and the twins, wondering how they were doing. He suggested that I finally consider visiting them. He said talking to her was part of my “healing journey” because of the guilt I carried.
I told him no.
I didn’t know if Melanie knew the details of what happened that day, if she’d heard them from someone else in my unit, possibly Colonel Lawson. If she did, she probably hated me, and I wouldn’t blame her. Not one bit. And if she didn’t know and asked me, I didn’t think I could tell her.
It’d been nearly ten months since the deployment, and I stillhadn’t talked toanyoneabout what happened—not my family, not my friends. I told Nate the bare minimum of what happened for the sake of my therapy, but even then, I didn’t go into too much detail, only explaining in a way that would make him see that I was right in placing blame on myself. He pieced everything else together over time.
I knew I’d eventually have to face her, but I just wasn’t ready. Not yet.
After the session, I almost messaged Haley to tell her I couldn’t make it, but I didn’t want to go back on my word to help her. So, that night, I was back in her living room, quizzing her from the practice exams we didn’t get to before.
I didn’t know what it was about being at her place, but while earlier I’d been tense and on edge, now I felt calmer, and a sense of distraction settled over me as I focused on being there with her. The tension from therapy faded somewhat, and I realized just how much these evenings with her pulled my attention away from what usually weighed me down.
“Okay, next one…” I scrolled through a few of the questions. “Alright,a fifty-five-year-old man with type two diabetes mellitus presents with severe right foot pain that started suddenly in the middle of the night after he had a steak for dinner with friends. Physical examination shows swelling and tenderness of the first metatarsophalangeal joint. Joint aspiration is performed, and microscopic findings from the synovial fluid reveal the presence of monosodium urate crystals. Which of the following is the best initial treatment?A, Allopurinol. B, Non-steroidal antiinflammatory drugs. C, Presnidone. Or D, Probenecid.”
“NSAIDs,” she answered quickly. “B.”
“Why?”
Her brow furrowed. “They don’t ask why.”
“ButI’masking why,” I countered. “Why do you say NSAIDs are the best choice?”
“Wait, did I get it wrong?”
I could see the confusion and worry in her eyes, and I chuckled. “Just answer the damn question.”
“Because…” She trailed off, looking at me. “Because NSAIDs are a first-line treatment for most patients with acutegoutyarthritis—the swelling and tenderness of the first metatarsophalangeal joint paired with the urate crystals present in the synovial fluid isgout.”
I held her stare for a moment before nodding. “Good.”
She let out an amused scoff. “You made me think I got it wrong!”
“I didn’tmakeyou think you got it wrong,” I argued. “Youmadeyourselfthink you got it wrong becauseIthrew you off by asking for an explanation. You answered that question without hesitation, Haley, just like all of the others. So, the lesson here? Don’t second-guess yourself just because someone questions you.”
She let out a chuckle just as a knock came on the door. “Saved by the knock. Pizza is here.”
When she stood to answer the door, I leaned forward to set her laptop on the table just as her phone chimed and lit up with an incoming message. My eyes dropped down to the screen.
Ryan
I know it’s been a couple of weeks, but I’m sorry about the wedding.
