The bass of you

Chapter 48

At the hospital, I'm just coming out of one of the rooms in the minor injuries unit. Chase had been rushed out from the ambulance and taken straight into A&E. I was wheelchaired from that department to the minor injuries where, by the time we got to the hospital, I felt much better. I still felt quite light-headed and my arms felt tingly, but I was much better after going through those breathing exercises. I insisted on walking myself to the minor injuries unit, but I was still quite breathless and weak when I spoke to the ambulance guy, so I guess he didn't trust that I would get there safely. Instead I was wheelchaired down there by a nurse. The nurse was friendly, she was really talkative, but I'm glad she didn't ask questions about what happened.

The doctor checked me out : did the heart monitor, the finger-pulse thing, my blood pressure - all that stuff. It's been determined that I've had a panic attack - no surprise there. They're confident enough to let me go, and I'm confident enough too. But I have to see Chase. I have to know that Chase is okay. I'm worried that something bad is happening to him and I don't know about it.

What if he's dying? What if he's dead? What if he can't get resuscitated again?

Oh god.

In the A&E department, I go up to the reception desk straight away. My heart does a little jump as I approach the desk and expect the worst. I'm trying not to panic so much because I don't want another episode. I'm still pretty light-headed and my mind and body is so weak and tired. It's obvious I'm being nagged by my own body to rest, but I can't. Not now. My hands are still feeling the wall as I approach the reception desk and stand in front of it. My hands are now leaning on the counter, supporting all my weight. 

The reception lady looks at me with a smile at first, then her eyes go wide and her mouth opens, and she appears to be frozen like that for a moment. She appears to be thinking about whether she should ask me how she can help or if I need any help. She's quiet, waiting for me to speak first. I'm only now realising, trying to talk, that I'm still trying to catch my breath a bit. My lungs feel weak after all that panicking and I still feel a bit out of it.

"I'm...just...trying to...find out where...Chase Ryder... is," I say breathlessly and quietly, leaning to the glass screen that separates us, hoping nobody can hear me. "I came...with him in the...ambulance, but I needed to get checked...out first."

The reception lady smiles politely. "I'm sorry, bach, but I can't tell you that. It's patient confidentiality," she says innocently. Of course, she's not going to believe me if I claim to have come with Chase Ryder in the ambulance. Anybody could know he's in here and try to claim the same thing just to get in with him. The receptionist is being as nice as she can about it though, bless her.

"Monica?"

Turning to my side, I see Bill approaching from the corridor. His face is like stone, but he still manages to look concerned for my well-being. He's rushing over to me, doing a little jog. Bill slips an arm around my shoulder, his big hand grabbing my ribcage, supporting my weight, helping me because it must be so obvious that I'm struggling by myself.

"It's alright, she's with me," Bill says to the reception lady.

The reception lady nods and Bill starts to urge me away from the reception desk to walk with him. He walks with me, supporting my every step, until we get to double-doors. There, he pushes the buzzer on the side and three bright white lights appear above the button. Bill explains who he is and then the doors are opened electronically.

Inside, there are not many, but a few hospital beds with the curtains pulled around to give the patients privacy. All I can hear is nurses and doctors chattering, beeping of heart monitor machines, distressed moans of pain from patients. Bill takes me to the end bed, pulls the curtain back, and there he is. There's Chase. He's unconscious, or sleeping - I don't know. But I'm so glad to see him.

Bill takes me over to the high-back hospital chair that's beside Chase's bed and sits me down carefully and gently. I appreciate Bill recognising that I'm not in an exactly fit state and for helping me, but I feel so pathetic. It's just not acceptable for me to be in this sort-of state when Chase's condition is much worse. It's ridiculous that I'm getting any sort of attention at all.

The curtain gets pulled back and a nurse comes in. "Hiya, visiting hours are almost over. I'm sorry, but only one person is allowed to stay overnight," she says.

Bill doesn't even hesitate. He takes one look at me, then back to the nurse. "This is Monica, she's Chase's girlfriend. She'll be staying here overnight." Bill comes over to me and kneels down in front of me. "If anyone asks," he says quietly, "you're his girlfriend. Thank you for everything you have done for Chase, the ambulance crew told me everything." He winks at me, rubs my legs comfortingly, then gets back up, and walks over to the curtain. He turns to look at me. "I'll be back in the morning. Get some rest."

"Thank you," I manage with a weak smile.

Bill smiles, nods to me, nods to the nurse, looks at Chase one last time, then pulls the curtain back and disappears. The nurse comes over to the drip that Chase is hooked up on, checks it quickly, then smiles at me, and also leaves.

Chase has an oxygen mask on, he has a canular in his hand, he's hooked up on a drip, he's got all these wires coming out from him cause he's hooked up on all these different things - he just looks awful. I'm so glad I went to check up on him when I realised he had been gone a while, but I'm still devastated that I should have known better. This could have been avoided.

Leaning forward, I reach arm over and pull the blanket up his chest a bit, very gently, because I don't want to interfere with anything. He looks so peaceful. It's so wonderful to see him getting the help he needs and resting, but distressing to see him so pale and still looking lifeless. With my mind at ease, I curl up on the chair, pulling my legs up, and shutting my exhausted eyelids.