Then there were the beds and the equipment.
My surprise must’ve been evident on my face because the doctor said, “Being a county hospital, and funding is hard to come by, we have a lot going on in a small space.”
“I can see that,” I mused as he walked right up to a long counter that spanned the back of the room and pulled some papers off the printer.
He handed them to me and said, “Pull your vehicle around and we’ll get her out to you.”
I was dismissed just like that, so I exited the ER, trying to make a wide berth around all the chaos as I headed outside to my truck.
I pulled my vehicle around just when she was wheeled out of the doors.
She shivered at the cold, and I cranked the heater up to high before I got out to help.
“Her jacket and things are in this bag,” the nurse said as she handed the large bag to me.
I opened the passenger door and shoved her things onto the floorboard before turning back to help her stand.
The nurse held on to the wheelchair as I helped Birdee to her feet and got her into the truck.
She didn’t complain once, even though I knew that the movement was jarring her head.
The grimace on her face was very apparent as I got her belted in.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
I didn’t reply, only closed the door as quietly as I could manage.
Which, admittedly, wasn’t all that soft.
I’d switched to my personal truck, and that wasn’t all that great.
When we’d moved to Montana, I’d found the first thing that looked solid.
It was a 1993 Ford with peeling paint and bucket seats that could probably use a little revamp.
But the engine was solid, the frame was great, and the tires were new.
“Thank you,” I said to the nurse.
She waved and hurried back inside.
It may not be snowing, but it was still cold as fuck out.
As I got to the driver’s side, I pulled off my jacket.
There was no way I could wear it in the cab and not suffocate with the heater on as high as it was.
I got into the truck and tossed my jacket over the center console.
She reached for it and covered herself with it, shivering slightly.
I didn’t comment as I drove out of the parking lot.
“You can just take me home and not worry about me,” she said. “I heard the doctor talking. I’m not going to make you stay.”
I looked over at her, her face glowing with each streetlight we passed.
“You hit your head really hard,” I said.
