I went about my shift feeling like I was in a puddle of batter being mixed by a giant angry chef who had gone nuts with his pancake spoon.
WTF is wrong with me? I wondered, as I accidentally maxed out Mr. Dayland's morphine drip, my latexed hands shaking. "That's it, keep it coming – you know exaaactly what I need" the white-sideburned old hippie said as he turned on his side.
"Oops, sorry Mr. D" I said, I've got to turn that down. "Why man, keep it coming" he grinned – a big grin, way too big. "Okay, okay, I'll just turn it down a little". I turned the dial and wheeled around to leave, or at least tried to, but the pancake batter caught me, mixing me up and turning me sideways until I whacked into the door jamb awkwardly on the way out, just glimpsing his mildly quizzical look on my way out. "Dammit Annie, why did you wear heels today" I thought angrily to myself as I plunked myself down on the bench in the hospital corridor.
A lovely smell assailed my nostrils and temporarily distracted me – antiseptic mixed with soap with... something else that was just delicious goodness. I looked to my left and the Chief of Staff was just sitting down with a file and a stressed out look, white coattails settling down around him like a cloud. We'd exchanged maybe seven words since I started a month ago, but I was always hyper-aware when he was near, but then again, so was every other woman who was sentient (and conscious) on the entire floor. He was just that, well... that. I couldn't deny the appeal of 'that'.
I was trying to figure out what to say when the pancake batter giant nailed me with giant smack of his spatula, sending me spinning and flaking sideways off the bench. In a flash, the Chief's arms were around me, holding me tightly so I didn't completely topple off onto the floor. Despite my awkward position, all I could react to was how good his collar smelled, and how his soft dark hair, barely flecked with grey curled gently down on it. Well, that and after a second, all I could see was Mr. D from the other room craning his neck and leering at us saying "you go baby, you go!". Why the f*ck was he getting so personal anyway? He didn't know me, and was like, ancient, well over 60, probably almost 70.
I pulled back reluctantly saying "I'm okay" and accidentally smacked my head into the hard cement wall behind while I was saying it. "Jesus 'f*cking Christ" I said loudly. Too loudly. Way too loudly. The Chief (Eric) pulled back in surprise. "Are you okay" he asked? A look of professional concern took over his previously surprised look.
'Yeah, I'm fine, I've just been a bit dizzy" I said, trying to downplay the imaginary pancake giant's hand in the whole thing. "What's your name?" he asked. A little affronted that he didn't remember, I answered "Annie'. He nodded, and said "Annie was my aunt's name... but wait, we'd better get you to the doctor's room so you can rest. I nodded weakly.
He supported me, tottering in my heels, (they were sensible heels, but I tottered all the same) all the way to the doctor's room. On the way, I caught a strange glimpse in the mirror. There was an older woman with greying hair, swept high off her forehead walking with us – a wise looking old doctor, the kind you'd see teaching or directing others. Kind of elegant looking actually. But when I looked around, I couldn't see anyone. I shrugged it off, assuming she'd ducked down a corridor and focused on trying to keep my balance with the peripheral benefit of Eric's warm hand at my waist.
He sat me down on a cot amidst other sleeping doctors when we got to the doctor's room. Whispering, he sat down next to me. "I'll come and check on you later, okay? I've got to do my rounds, and you should rest". We'll run some tests and see what's going on. His warmth and presence gone, I slumped into the bed, but quickly realized I had to go to the bathroom. Mustering all the strength I had left I swung my legs over the side of the cot and made my way to the bathroom.
The light was dim in there, greenish, I pulled my scrubs down and looked at my legs. They looked... odd. Was I seeing things? They looked familiar, but at the same time like they belonged to someone else. I did my business, pulled them up and stood up and looked in the mirror. An elegant greying-haired stranger with her hair swept back off her forehead stared back at me.
I yanked my gloves off, and so did she. I stared in the mirror, and so did she. I spoke half in terror, half in disbelief "Who the f*ck are you" and she mouthed the words back to me. I gave her the finger and backed towards the toilet, stumbling over it and hitting my shin. She mirrored my look of terror and grabbed her shin as I did.
I went up close, looked in her eyes, looked at my ungloved hands, and saw that she was me.
