Two Different Worlds (ManxMan)

Chapter 4 - Who The Heck Is Catherine Pittsfield? -1

Chapter 4

Who The Heck Is Catherine Pittsfield? - Part One

The ride to St. Luc hospital through the streets of Montreal was a rough one for me since all the holes and the bumps sent me to experience pain in all its forms. At least, the paramedics had let Valerie sit beside my stretcher in the back of the ambulance since I had insisted on letting her ride with me. On the whole way to the hospital, she held my hand in hers, responding to every surge of pain I was experiencing by squeezing my hand. Although this trip was less than comfortable, there was nothing I could say against the paramedics' competences. I always felt vulnerable lying on a stretcher in an ambulance. There was nothing I could really complain about since they did their job and did it well, chatting with me and giving me reassuring glances all through the trip.

Even though one of them was constantly beside me, I didn't feel as if my privacy was invaded as he remained very professional, letting me have a little space since my life was not threatened. I hated being treated as some child and that was not the case. We talked about the weather and the awful delay in cleaning up the streets and sidewalks due to the unexpected snow fall the previous week, and soon enough, we were parked in the reserved driveway to the emergency ward of the hospital. I was extracted from the ambulance and shipped through the doors so quickly I didn't have time to feel the cold outside.

The tension was so thick in the emergency ward as doctors and nurses seemed to run in every directions. My cardiac rhythm increased in that uncomfortable situation and I could feel my heart trying its way out of my ribcage. They had sent Valerie to the waiting area as soon as I was out of the ambulance and I felt as though I needed her to come back and hold my hand again. The transfer from the paramedic stretcher to the hospital one was not that painful as it was done very professionally.

There were so many stretcher in the corridors I thought I would be forgotten there for weeks and then some but as soon as the paramedics found a spot out of the way, a woman with a stethoscope around her neck almost fled to retrieve information about my case from one of them. She then thanked the paramedics and dismissed them. When she looked my way, I could tell she was tired. She had dark circles around blue eyes that had lost their shine and the traits of her face were drawn. I was afraid she would fall to the ground any minute. She looked worse than I did.

"I'm Dr. Werner. How is it going here?" she asked in a perfect pronunciation of each word. "Does it hurt now?"

"By intermittences... It's not so bad now though since I'm not moving."

"Okay..." she sighed, putting round glasses to her nose. "We will need your medic card for registering you. Do you have it with you?"

"Yeah..." I answered, trying to shift so I could retrieve my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans. I winced as a shooting pain went through the base of my back as a long and sharpening knife.

"Do you need any help?" she asked, concern in her voice.

I felt embarrassed so I didn't answer and kept on trying, feeling the pain increase in my lower back and finally could grab a hold on the wallet and pull. Everything that was in that pocket came falling off of it, including the stack of money that went flying everywhere. Instinctively, I tried to reach for it by sitting down on the stretcher and felt a terrible pain and cold sweats going down my spine. I fell back on the stretcher, eyes shut tight, fists clenched and hissing cusses through short breaths. The doctor didn't seem bothered by my bad language. She must have heard worse before. She laid a hand on my chest to steady me before she proceeded to retrieve the wallet from my hand.

"Money..." I groaned through hissing sounds.

"I'll get it." I heard a masculine voice say.

"I'll do it!" the doctor hastily said. "Register him! I need to be in measure to give him pain killers now!" There were a couple of minutes of silence while I could sufficiently calm down and open my eyes, the rhythm of the shooting pains subsiding almost completely but still there, following the rhythm of my heart. "There," she said, handing me my wallet. "I've put your money inside."