Living in San Francisco is so different than the small Minnesota town I grew up in. It took a little getting used to, but I’ve grown to love it here. Well, I guess I should say I’ve grown to love the hospital. Outside of here, I don’t have much of a life, just my one friend, and my one hobby. That’s enough for me.
As I listen to Kyle’s heartbeat, I look up into his eyes. They’re slightly glazed over. He’s tired, too tired for a kid who should be running around in the park, playing soccer, and developing his first crush.
A nurse comes in with his daily meds, so I rough his hair around and say goodbye. We exchange our secret handshake; one we developed together a few weeks ago when he wouldn’t even let me examine him.
Sometimes, the sickest ones become the weariest. It took a little while to earn his trust, let him know I wasn’t here to just stick a needle in his arm and turn him into a lab rat.
I care. Maybe I care too much. Who knows.
I write down my notes regarding Kyle’s near-collapse to his checkup and leave it at the nurse’s station. Looking at the large clock on the wall, I see my shift is over. I should get some sleep, but I opt to do one more round and say goodnight to the kids.
My life is great except for the one thing missing. I glance at the inside of my wrist and the reminder of what was once mine.
