“Your place is…” I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence when my mind has turned to mush. “Fancy.”
He chuckles a little, and when I turn back to catch his gaze, his smile starts to fall from his face. “Are you going to be okay?”
His sentiment warms me, and I nod. “I will be, really. I’ve only had it get this bad once or twice before, but I felt normal within a few days.”
He nods while fiddling with the corner of one of the glass food prep dishes in front of him. His handsome face is pinched together, and I know he’s holding back a slew of questions.
“You can ask, you know.”
I turn in my stool to face him as I tuck my hands in my lap for warmth. The clammy sweat from earlier has dried, leaving my skin tight and itchy. But with my blood sugar climbing from the glucagon, I feel my body on the verge of another sweaty breakout.
He exhales sharply. “I don’t even know where to start, Annaliese.”
“Just pick an easy one.”
His lips purse together slightly as he thinks. “First, I guess, why didn’t you tell me you’re a diabetic? Or why the hell didn’t your dad say anything?”
I shrug. “Most of my life my dad has acted like I’m dramatic when I have an episode similar to today. It’s always been a sensitive subject between the two of us.” Sorry I was born with a shitty pancreas, Dad.
Colt immediately winces at that as he sets the container with ravioli on the counter and turns to put the other two back into the refrigerator.
He goes over to a tall cabinet, pulling out a crystal glass before opening an opposite drawer, which looks like it holds ice. Just ice. Various shapes and sizes, because who doesn’t need more than one type of ice? With silver tongs he picks up two golf ball-sized, crystal clear orbs and places them in a glass before filling it to the brim with water. He sets it in front of me, and I nod an appreciative thanks. “As for me, I don’t like to tell people unless it’s an emergency.”
He huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Wasn’t today an emergency?”
I shrug. “Yeah, but I thought I had it handled. I don’t want to sound like the world's biggest asshole as I say this, but up until recently, you haven’t exactly welcomed me here, Colt.”
I understand his frustration, and some of the fear he felt today. But he’d be foolish if he thought our relationship was the kindred type. I’ve tried to get to know him and maybe have him warm up to me as something other than a resident forced upon him by my dad. We’re good at teasing one another, and while there have been some lingering looks and touches that leave me questioning what’s going on, truthfully all I’ve ever felt in return is that he saw me as an annoying task to be dealt with.
“I still wish you would have told me.”
“Okay,” I counter. “So if that first week we met, I told you that sometimes I need an extra break to have a snack, or to drink water and take a walk. Or that sometimes my insulin pump runs out and I need to run to the locker room, what would you have done? Would you have happily delayed a case so I could switch out my malfunctioning sensor?” I keep my eyes locked on his, waiting to see if he dares to lie to me. We both know he would have been cruel and run back to my dad to glorify the first sign of trouble.
He nods, leaning forward to stretch his arms out along the counter in front of him. He moves forward so far his forehead rests on the marble slab, and I can see the strain in the thick muscles along his back. “So today,” he says with his voice muffled by the countertop. “You were running low enough that you were about to pass out, needed time to take care of yourself, but didn’t feel like you could come to me and tell me that?”
I nod, and after realizing he can’t see it, I clear my throat. “I gave myself an extra dose of insulin earlier, thinking I’d have that forty minute break between cases to grab lunch. It was philly cheesesteak day in the cafeteria, and you’d be surprised how good they are.” I planned to grab one and scarf it down within five minutes, and I knew I’d need that extra dose to prevent my blood sugar from spiking during the long transplant case.
“Except I pulled you away from that to run piddly errands.”
“Yes,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper. Each time I thought I’d have a moment to sit today, Colt would find something else for me to do. Consult on a case with him, triage in the ER with another resident, edit my dictated notes from earlier.
He stands with a groan, his face flushed from the crunched over position. The bags under his eyes are more prominent now, and I can see the true self-hatred he holds against himself. “Fuck.” He scrubs his hands over his face, dropping them so they slap against the counter before raising them to cross over his strong chest. “I felt like Ihadto run you ragged, like you had toearnthat case today. That’s so fucked.”
“I really wanted that transplant case. I would have done anything you asked. I keep a few small snacks stashed on me, and that’s what I was doing when I passed out in the lounge.” I managed to eat one of my fruit leathers, but my sugar was so low and the bolus was too much that it didn’t prevent the inevitable.
“I’m sorry, Annaliese. I’msosorry.”
I push back from the stool and march over to him on wobbly legs.
He stands tall with his arms crossed over his burly chest, looking past the chair I was seated in and through the far windows. The moon is overhead, and we’re up high enough that the stars are visible above the city lights.
When I approach him, I reach a hand up and curl my palm over his forearm, ushering for him to look at me. “Hey.”
His nostrils flare, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to break down. “Look at me, Colt.”
He doesn’t adjust his body so I tighten my grip on his forearm and wiggle a little to get his attention. He turns his head to look down at me, his eyes dark with regret.
“I made the choice not to tell you I’m a diabetic. I also made the choice to bolus in preparation of a high-carb meal, which is always risky to do without a backup. Ibeggedyou for the case with Dr. Anderson and for everything else you’ve thrown at me because I wanted to do it. So don’t beat yourself up by thinking that you nearly killed me today.”
