Constantly.
My cautious nod is enough for her to take note of that too. "What else? What other symptoms do you have? Nosebleeds? Shortness of breath?" I can see how much it tortures her not being able to make a diagnosis.
I have to tell her. She should know that I'm often so exhausted in the morning that it's hard for me to get out of bed. "Fatigue." I clear my throat because it wouldn't be fair to withhold the whole truth from her now. "A paralyzing, heavy fatigue. Most of the time, I'm drained. I feel like I can barely cope with my daily life."
She notes that down on the paper, which by now looks like a mad professor has had his way with it. "How's your sleep?"
"Perfect," I quickly answer as I had already thought. "I fall asleep easily, and uninterrupted sleep is not a problem. The alarm clock wakes me up directly from deep sleep in the morning."
She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "Fatigue despite sufficient sleep..." she murmurs, pursing her lips. Then she scratches her head before her flat hand lands energetically on the documents. "I don't understand," she finally admits in frustration. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I would like to help her, but I wouldn't know how.By now, I've told her everything; there's nothing more. With an apologetic expression, I row toward the waterfall while she frantically flips through the documents again.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her expression has an unnaturally harsh quality. "I have to figure this out. I have to!"
Earlier, it was nice that she fought so fiercely for me, but now her fervor is becoming frightening. "It's okay, Elina," I say soothingly.
"No, that's not true," she exclaims, looking up at me in a burst of anger. The paper between her fingers tears. "I'm a good doctor, no, a very good doctor," she adds as if she has to defend herself.
I stare at her in disbelief. "No one doubts that." I feel the urge to reassure her, and suddenly it becomes clear why.
Her fatal mistake in her previous job is wearing her down. She thinks she can undo it by dedicating herself even more to her patients. But no one can change the past. Not even her.
"No." She presses her lips together and exhales forcefully. "Everyone doubts it."
I can't help it anymore. I release the paddles, kneel, and move toward her. When I reach her, I feel the urge to hold her hands. Only at the last moment can I restrain myself. "Don't listen to others," I plead with her, and in that instant, I realize how absurd this statement sounds coming from my mouth.
She lowers her gaze. "I can't," she whispers.
I would like to wipe away the tear crawling down her cheek, but instead, I say, "When it comes to your own happiness, no one is wiser than you." I don't knowwhere these words come from, but I know they are true.
Slowly, she opens her eyes, and as soon as she looks at me, I feel like I could drown in the blue of her eyes. Her mouth twitches. "Happiness? What is that?"
I don't know either. "Hanna would say happiness is like a mountain lake. The deceptive shimmer on the surface is only there when the sun is shining on the outside. But to find the true treasure, you have to dive to the depths."
Suddenly, she reaches for my hand. Earlier, my willpower was enough to hold back, but now I can't resist her touch. Her fingers caress mine. Warm and gentle, her thumb glides over the back of my hand. "What do you think she means by that?"
"Whenever we base our glitter on the opinions of others, we let them determine our happiness even though we already carry true happiness within us," I reply softly, never taking my eyes off her. "We allow them to decide our happiness even though we already possess it."
Nostalgia spreads within me because I should internalize this wisdom first before proclaiming it. I'm nothing but a hypocrite. But if my words can bring her comfort, then I'm willing to accept it.
Indeed, I see a smile on her lips. "I will think about it."
"That's all I ask."
"Thank you." Moved, she pulls me into her arms. Her scent and warmth envelop me.
I should flee. I should break free from her embrace right now. Yet we sway tightly intertwined in the boat on the water. For seconds or minutes, I don't know. AllI know is that this woman does something to me that I can't describe.
It's comforting and frightening at the same time.
"Wait a moment," Elina suddenly says, her fingers tapping anxiously on my back. "There are several sleep disorders that patients are not aware of. Yet they exist and lead to pronounced daytime fatigue."
I sleep excellently. But the joy in her voice and the newfound courage that wells up in her make it impossible for me to tell her that.
She pushes away from me, beaming at me with rosy cheeks. "Let me examine your sleep," she implores.
No one could refuse her this request, so I nod. "But only if the analysis ends for today."
She raises her hand with a playfully serious expression. "Promise."
Inevitably, I can't help but grin. "Then let's go to the waterfall," I say and start paddling again.
