A Thousand Ways To Say I Love You

CHAPTER II

Isabella stood at the hospital window, the hum of machines and distant chatter of nurses forming a soft background to her thoughts. It had been a long day, filled with patients, emergencies, and the relentless pace of her work as a doctor.

She had just come from surgery, still feeling the tension in her hands. The delicate balance between life and death was something she dealt with every day.

—was it regret? Or a challenge?

In that moment, Isabella realized just how deep her struggle would be.

The hospital, for Isabella, became a battlefield. Not of physical injuries and trauma, but of emotions. She was torn between her duty as a healer and her desire to protect her heart.

Her contrasts with her calm, focused demeanor. She's wearing her scrubs, her hair pulled back in a practical but neat style, and her face is a mixture of compassion and determination.

A Big Sigh......
"Let's do this Isabella Grace"

She moves with a calm yet focused demeanor, her white coat neatly draped over her shoulders. Her patient, an elderly woman, looks up at her with gratitude as Isabella checks her vitals. She listens carefully to the woman’s concerns, offering comforting words in a soothing tone. Isabella's eyes reflect empathy, and despite her personal struggles, she manages to create an environment of safety and care for those around her. It’s moments like these that show her true strength and dedication to her profession.

---Evening---

The emergency room is a whirlwind of motion and urgency as Isabella rushes to the patient’s side. The elderly woman, who had been stable just moments before, is now in critical condition after suffering a heart attack. The heart monitor beeps erratically, and Isabella’s face tightens with focus.

“Call for the crash cart!” she orders, her voice firm yet calm. The nurses around scrambles and confused about what to do but listen, Isabella remains collected, taking charge of the situation. She begins chest compressions, her hands moving rhythmically with precision. The room fills with the sounds of beeping monitors, rushing footsteps, and quick commands, but Isabella’s focus is only on her patient.

After a few tense moments, the crash cart arrives, and she preps the defibrillator “Clear!” she shouts, delivering a shock in an attempt to restart the patient’s heart. Her eyes never leave the monitor, waiting for the rhythm to stabilize.

The rhythmic beeping of machines and the frantic shuffling of feet filled the air.

Isabella: (calm but urgent) "We need nitroglycerin, stat. Monitor her vitals and prepare for defibrillation if necessary."

The medical team moved in sync, following Isabella’s lead. The woman’s frail frame shook slightly on the hospital bed as they administered medication. Isabella held her hand briefly, offering a comforting look before refocusing on the task at hand.

The woman’s pulse weakened, the monitors beeping in alarm.

Nurse: (concerned) "She's crashing, doctor."

Isabella felt the familiar pull of fear but pushed it down. No. Not tonight.

Isabella: (firmly) "Charge to 200. Clear!"

The electric shock jolted the woman’s body. Time seemed to slow. The flatline on the monitor echoed like thunder in Isabella’s mind.

Suddenly, the beeping resumed—steady, persistent.

A sigh of relief swept through the room, though Isabella barely allowed herself to feel it. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to the nurse.

Isabella: (calmly) "Get her to the ICU for observation. She's stable for now, but we’ll need to keep an eye on her."

As they wheeled the woman away, Isabella stood for a moment, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Her mind drifted momentarily—back to her own mother. She shook her head, clearing the thought.

-- Isabella’s Apartment – Late Night

The soft sound of rain pattered against the windows, a calm contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside Isabella. She had just brought her mother home after weeks of intensive treatment for stomach cancer. Her mother’s frail form rested in the bed Isabella had prepared by the window, where the light filtered in gently through the curtains.

Isabella: (gently) “How are you feeling, Mama? Do you need more pillows?”

Her mother smiled weakly, her voice a soft rasp.

Isabella's Mother: “I’m fine, Bella. You’ve done more than enough. Just having you here is all I need.”

But Isabella wasn’t convinced. She could see the toll the illness had taken—how it had drained the vitality from her mother’s once strong and vibrant frame. As a doctor, she knew the signs of recovery, but as a daughter, the worry gnawed at her relentlessly.

Isabella set down a tray of herbal tea and the medication her mother needed, sitting by the bedside with a practiced air of calm. She measured out the doses carefully, her movements deliberate, masking the deep fear she carried.

Isabella: (softly) “Remember to take these with your tea, Mama. It'll help with the pain and nausea.”

Her mother’s hand, wrinkled but warm, reached out to cover Isabella’s.

Isabella's Mother: “You’re always taking care of me, Bella. You need to rest too. How’s work? The hospital must be keeping you busy.”

Isabella smiled but avoided the full weight of the question. How could she explain the long nights and stressful days without worrying her mother more? How could she tell her that every time she saved a life, she wished she could do more for her own?

Isabella: (forcing a light tone) “Work is work. Just the usual. You know how it is. But right now, you’re my priority.”

Isabella's Mother: "Now go and rest you must be tired"

Isabella smile as she look at her mother

Isabella: "I'll rest here in the couch, rest well Mama I'll be here if you need anything"

Isabella's Mother: "Go to your room I'll be alright, Bella"

Isabella looking at her mother with her big eyes as if giving her warning that I'll be here no matter what you say, her mother understood and give a light smile

Isabella's Mother: "fine then"

Her mother’s eyes softened, seeing through the façade, but she said nothing more. They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the past few weeks settling into the quiet of their home.