Eyes staying on my bandage, I nod. “Yeah. I thought maybe it would stop on its own, but it’s practically soaking now.”
“And that will only make you dizzier if it keeps going. Come on.” He steps away from the counter,abandoning everything he was doing before to take me by the arm and lead me to his exam room.
I sit on the edge of the table, wiggling my bare toes in nothing but a gown and underwear.
“How’s the head?” he asks, shining light in my eyes while running a warm towel over my skin.
“Not too bad. A little throbby, but I’m also tired.”
“I’ll be quick. I just want to take proper precautions. Now’s the best time to retake that temperature too. Lean over the table and lift your gown.”
I do it without questioning him, stretching my arms out. He tugs down my underwear, and I flinch at the cold lube he spreads around my rim. The thermometer slowly goes in, and heteases my sensitive areas with it before holding it still. It’s the longest minute of my life. A loud beep sounds around us and he pulls away, coming back to wipe my hole clean, reaching every crevice with slow strokes.
My temperature is normal and he puts a new bandage on my head, handing me two ibuprofen before we leave the room. We stick to the usual schedule that I’ve become accustomed to, eating dinner together, showering separately, and him tucking me into bed.
“Need anything else before I go?” He stands in the doorway and his hand hovers over the light switch.
“A glass of water.”
He nods. “I can get that for you. Don’t drink too much, though. Or you’ll be up all night peeing.”
“Doctor knows best,” I muse, giving him a salute.
He winks. “And it’s good that you keep remembering that.” Disappearing into the main part of the basement, he leaves the light on. I’m tempted to follow him to see if the door opens behind him. Does he lock it? My skin itches and I peer through the doorway as if I’d be able to see the door to the kitchen from here. Laughing at myself, I shake my head. I fluff my pillow behind my head and slide the blanket up before pulling it down again.
Floorboards creek and Doc is back, holding a cup in his hand with his lips pressed into a thin line. He sets the water on the nightstand, and I notice he’s only filled the glass halfway as it swooshes from side to side.
“Is your pain still okay?” His forehead lifts and I touch my head.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“We should give you something so it stays that way. It’s good to stay ahead of it.”
“More ibuprofen?”
His lips curl in the corners. “Yeah . . . that.” He pats his pocket. “Luckily I brought some with me just in case.”
“You really are staying ahead of everything.”
“Yeah. Doctor knows best, remember?”
I swallow hard as he grabs at my arm to help me sit up. He hands me the pill from a small baggy and it’s larger than the last one. Ignoring the tiny detail, I place it on my tongue as he carefully watches me, and I chase it down with water until the chalky taste is gone.
“And this is why I didn’t bring you a whole glass. You need to learn to pace yourself more. When it comes to food too.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling small as his eyes lock onto mine. “I’ll try.”
“I know.” His smile lifts and he pats my head. “Now, back down in the bed you go. Don’t want to sleep too elevated or you’ll wake up with a crick in your neck.”
Or do I? I might spend all tomorrow rubbing my back and popping it, but at least it’ll give him something else to treat. It could mean more time here. No. No, I want to leave, remember? Yes, this bed is comfortable, and it’s been a long while since I haven’t had to skip a meal, but I need to get home. I need to handle things with the assholes who put me in this situation.
“You listening, or are you falling asleep with your eyes open?”
“I . . . I’m falling asleep, I guess.” I blink my eyes and sink down until my head is in the center of the pillow.
He gives a nod of approval, and some weird zingy sensation climbs up my spine, only growing more electric when he lifts the covers to my chin. He presses the sides around me, humming a tune I don’t recognize while occasionally looking up at me to offer me a soft smile. “All snug as a bug.”
“Feels good,” I say.
