Insomniacs (#1)

74. anders

No perspective.

"How's he doing?" One of the nurses tenderly ask Dr Anders as he snaps off his gloves, tossing them in the trash. He crashes onto the bench after the surgery, staring off at a point onto the wall.

"He's stable. We wait for him to wake up."

Anybody can hear the deep sadness in Ander's voice, underlying and raw. He has just gone through the greatest loss of his life and yet here he is, working, saving lives. Saving this boy's life after he-

The nurse tenderly holds his shoulder, a silent assurance. Anders is numb as he stares off in the quiet prep room and the nurse, Olivia, decides it's best to give him space.

She steps out and greets the hurdle of nurses and doctors restlessly waiting on the news of Ezekiel Luca Hernandez, the boy that was dead for thirty one minutes. He'd become the talk of the hospital that night, everybody holding hope that he would be okay. Olivia couldn't catch a break without one of them asking how the miracle kid was doing.

Olivia smiles, "The transplant went well. He's okay for now."

Smiles split the staff's faces, even some of the patients who had heard about Ezekiel, the miracle of how he'd woken up with a gasp. Like he was yanked back to life. The news of his surgery spreads through the quaint hospital community and it lights a little hope, in such a place.

Olivia drifts from the gathered crowd and takes a breath, pulling off her own gloves and tossing them. Nobody knows what Ander had just gone through. Nobody asides from him and her, what he just sacrificed. The pain he must be dealing with, in this moment.

Olivia couldn't bear to imagine so she made a vow to herself, to ensure his sacrifice would be worth it. She wouldn't let Ezekiel slip away. Not now, not letting that heart go to waste.

***

Like clockwork, for six days, Olivia was the nurse that tended to Ezekiel. She'd never been more involved with a patient. In the morning, she'd check his SATS, ensure he's stable. At night, she'd do the same after doing so a few times throughout the day. The spare chances she got between her work and patients, she'd spend besides Ezekiel's bed. Or watching him from the window.

He did not awake but he did not worsen either. He was unconscious, day and night, with not so much as a fluttering of his eyes. A tube gave him nutrients, an IV guaranteed his fluids. Nurses would tend to his surgery scars when need be.

Nights would pass. Days would elapse. Ezekiel did not awake.

He was a part of Olivia's routine. It felt like he was a part of the hospital from how much people wished him well. Doctor Anders, the lead doctor that night, did not visit him once and had given over the case to another trusted doctor.

Yet, she would uphold her vow to herself and nurse him until he was better. For him, for her. So day and night as they waited for some semblance of life from him, she did.

It had been a tiring day and near the end of what was beginning to feel like an endless shift.

But like her routine, she turned down the hall and into Ezekiel's room. She yawned as she picked up the clipboard hanging from the edge of his bed and walked over to his bedside. He looked the same as he had for the past several days, skin pale, eyes shut and a breathing tube.

They'd managed to get a hold of his medical records and were able to take the needed action after learning of his ARVD. His heart and its muscle had deteriorated entirely. On the brink of death, in the literal sense. Over the days they'd tried locating family but he had no contacts written down, no phone on hand.