“We’ll give you privacy,” Julien said as he stood, “if you need anything, just call.”
“Or text,” Karim added.
“Okay, I will. Thank you,” Luis said.
The two left, closing the door behind them. Then Luis was alone.
It should be a relief, but his eyes went to the kit and his heart thumped hard. He didn’t want to do this.
He dragged the kit closer and unzipped it.
Inside, as always, were a selection of sealed needles, collection containers, sterile wipes, tourniquets, bandages, and a mini sharps disposal box. There was also his hemocrit tester.
Luis closed his eyes and took a breath. His hands were shaky as he pulled out the rapid tester. Maybe–maybe he didn’t need to do the treatment just yet. Maybe his counts weren’t that high.
He pricked his finger, put a drop of blood on the strip, and waited with dread for the results.
Breathe, breathe, it’s not that bad.
But what if it was? If the number was too high, he’d have to go to the hospital regardless. It’d be too dangerous. He shuddered.
Thirty seconds later, the tester gave his number.
High, he required treatment, but not catastrophic. He wasn’t likely to drop dead, at least not at his young age.
Hands sweaty, Luis pulled the test strip free and dumped that and the lancet into his disposal container.
Okay, so he had to do the next part.
You can do it;he coached himself as he reached for an alcohol swab and the tourniquet from the kit.You’ve done this dozens of times before.
But it didn’t matter, it never got easier. If anything, over time Luis only seemed to dread it more. The smell of an alcohol wipe now was enough to turn his stomach. The prick of a needle always made him want to rip the thing back out and run. It was self-torture, but someone else doing it was worse.
Luis tore open the alcohol swab and held his breath as he wiped it over the crook of his left arm. He’d done the right arm last time, today was left.
This or the hospital. This or the hospital.
His eyes burned with unshed tears, and Luis blinked rapidly to make them go away. This had to be done, and it had to be done now. He needed to stop being such a baby.
Awkwardly, Luis managed a weak tie of the tourniquet around his upper arm before another sweep of nausea hit him and he had to stop.
He couldn’t do this.
His whole body was trembling in a cold sweat. God, fuck, why was he so pathetic? Luis rubbed a hand over his face, sucking in a thin breath of air. If he couldn’t do this, he was in trouble and his options to fix it were few.
Hospital. Call his mother. Ask for help from Julien or Karim.
All bad options. All with consequences he couldn’t fully know in this moment.
But some choices were worse than others.
If he asked, Julien and Karim would help him. Probably. They’d at least try, and wouldn’t be mean about it.
Still, it took a long time to reach for his phone and text Julien.
“You need help?” Julien asked thirty seconds later, peeking his head in cautiously. Luis watched his eyes go to the medical kit, then to the array of items on the bed.
Luis swallowed the lump in his throat.
