Nursing The Doctor by Bobby Hutchinson Page B

regardless of how agonizing it was, and the cleaning staff had come by and fussed around with his bedside table and jarred his bed back and forth until he’d given them a blistering tirade.
    Half the population of the bloody city had observed, poked, prodded and annoyed him, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
    “Dr. Brulotte, my name is Wade Keenan.” The guy was tall, with broad shoulders and the toned look of an athlete, although he walked with a cane and a distinct limp. Greg waited impatiently to hear what his excuse was for being there.
    “I’m a counselor for patients with spinal injuries. John Bellamy asked me to drop by and see you.”
    “Bellamy’s got one hell of a nerve,” Greg growled through gritted teeth. “He’s also got the wrong diagnosis, but that’s nothing unusual around here. Two so-called experts think all I’ve got is some bruising and a bit of swelling. Only one hotshot thinks I have a spinal injury.”
    “Yeah, John told me that. The reason he sent me was because he figures you’re reacting to your accident much the way I did to mine, and he thought maybe if I told you what happened to me, it would make it easier for you in here.”
    “Yeah? Well, I doubt that. I’m not really into group therapy. What would make it easier on me would be if I could get a couple of hours of peace and quiet. And a private room. That would help one hell of a lot.”
    Greg ignored the fact that the old man in the other bed was listening. Well, the guy had to be stone deaf anyway not to know how Greg felt about sharing this room. He’d given both Ben and his doctor an ultimatum that morning. He didn’t give a damn what it took, he wanted a private before the day was out.
    “I know what you mean,” Wade agreed cheerfully. “The place is a zoo. When I was in I had them put a sign on my door saying absolutely no visitors.”
    “I intend to do the same.” Keenan didn’t take the hint, so Greg added pointedly, “I’d like to try to sleep now.”
    Wade grinned. “Sure. I’ll drop by another time. I’m here a lot, which is weird. See, I swore once I got out of here, I’d never set foot in the damned place again.”
    Greg didn’t answer. He had no intentions of encouraging this self-styled knight to try to be his buddy.
    “See you again soon, Doctor.”
    Greg fervently hoped not, but as Wade limped away, Greg wondered for a moment what particular calamity had befallen him, not that he was curious enough to ask.
    He closed his eyes and wondered how long it would be before his next meds came.
     
     
    Tuesday and Wednesday, Lily checked the computer at work, looking for the results of Nefstead’s blood tests.
    On Thursday morning, her last shift in that set, she flipped the computer screen down and there they were.
    “Nefstead, Victor M.” Her eyes roved quickly over the series of numerical findings down to the notation at the bottom.
    “Hepatitis C, positive.”
    She stared at the notation, reading it again, and then once again.
    “Hepatitis C, positive.”
    Hepatitis C, the trained medical part of her brain recounted with textbook accuracy. A viral infection of the liver that can cause severe liver dysfunction and is potentially fatal. Transmitted predominately through direct contact with the blood of an infected person.
    Direct contact, as in a transfusion, or a needle stick.
    Her throat closed and she gulped. All of a sudden she felt icy cold and nauseated. Her heart began to pound, and for a long moment the world spun around her in crazy circles, and she thought that for the first time in her life she was about to faint.
     
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
    “Hey, Lily, you okay? You’re as white as a sheet. You’re not getting that flu that’s going around, are you?”
    Lily looked up at the concerned face of the clerk and realized he must have been standing beside her for several minutes.
    “If you’re all done here...”
    She was belatedly aware that she was using his computer terminal. She