21
JILLIE
Iwake up feeling weak and I’ve developed more of a cough.That can’t be good.
“Jillie,” Aunt Ruthie begins, “Let me get the nurse.” She pushes the button by the bed and within a minute, the nurse is there. I’ve got tubes and wires coming from everywhere.
“Jillian, I’m Samantha, your nurse. Let me get a message to the doctor quickly. He wanted to see you when you woke up.”
I nod, looking around.
“Where the hell am I?” I ask Aunt Ruthie.
“The hospital.”
“That much I know. But why?”
“You were admitted with a fever above 104 degrees after you passed out at school.”
I think back. “I remember not feeling well. I remember…” Ella. And Leo. The bet. “I was dizzy and then everything went dark.”
Aunt Ruthie nods. “You’ve got quite a gash on the side of your head to prove it. Staples and stitches. You don’t do anything half-way, do you, kiddo?”
I reach up and wince. “Apparently not. What’s with all the…” I wave a hand around at the machinery.
“You started out in a regular room but were transferred to ICU when they couldn’t get your fever down. You were vomiting and incoherent. Now, your cough has worsened, but the doctor will fill you in on that,” she informs me.
“Wow. How long have I been out?” I still feel like shit.
“Three days.”
“Three days?” I ask, then begin to cough. I sit up, trying to stop coughing and eventually I do. “My chest hurts.”
“It’s the pneumonia,” a man informs me when he enters my room. He’s in hospital scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, tall, short hair that’s salt-and-pepper in color. He’s very nice looking.
“Pneumonia,” I echo quietly.
“You’ve been very ill, Jillian,” he informs me. He doesn’t sound happy about it either. In fact, he sounds a bit put out.
“You don’t say,” I snark. If he wants to be an asshole, I can be a bitch. It’ll take all my energy to do it, but I can do it.
“With a fever as high as yours, you should have told someone.”
“Look, I didn’t know. I felt crappy, but I figured I was just rundown. I’ve had a few things on my mind such as my dad dying and my boyfriend fucking me for a bet,” I snap, “so, my feeling out of sorts, it goes with the program.”
“I imagine it does,” he replies.
I start coughing again, then pull off the oxygen thing stuck up my nose so I can catch my breath.
“Jillie,” Aunt Ruthie says, “You need to keep that on. It helps you breathe.”
When I stop coughing, I put it back on. “What can we do for me to get better? I’ll do anything because this really sucks.”
He nods. “We’ve got a medication regimen in place. We need to get you up and out of bed so the infiltrate doesn’t enlarge in your lungs.”
“Okay.”
“But most of all, you need to rest and avoid those stressors—if you can. If not, we can give you something to help with the anxiety. Our focus is on getting you better.”
