Things We Lost In the Fire

Can't Give Up Now

March 17, 1999

Tired isn't even the word to describe how I feel. I don't think there is an adjective to describe my current physical and emotional status. With two back to back day shifts down and one more to go, I knew for sure I would never do this again.

Not only was it affecting me, but Noah didn't like it either because he had to stay with my parents for a couple nights. When I was leaving from there yesterday evening after my shift, Noah threw the biggest temper tantrum known to man because he couldn't leave with his mommy. At least when Keith was around, Noah just stayed home with him. I wish I could do that with P, but I don't want to burden him with that responsibility even though he's offered.

Not long after I closed my eyes and settled in bed last night, the shrill sound of my cellular device awoke me out of my light slumber. Unfortunately for whoever it was, my phone was resting on the desk on the other side of the room and I was not getting up to retrieve it.

After it stopped and rung two more times, I ruled out P as a suspect. After the second missed call, he would've just came over. Dare I call him my boyfriend? I mean it'll be a year in four days that we've been 'together'. It's been like four months since he's told me he loved me, about two and a half since I told him I loved him. I mean he loves to pop up at my house like he's my man, I should've never given him my gate code. If I don't watch my house keys, the sneaky little man might make a copy.

After a few minutes of silence, I almost jumped out of my skin when my landline rung next to my head. Groaning into the receiver, I could barely decipher what Morgan was saying through her muffled cries. When she finally calmed down, she said something along the lines of our grandma was having trouble breathing and was in and out of consciousness, she was rambling about how she didn't know how much longer she had, and that she was rushed to Abbott Northwestern Hospital.

That was ten hours ago.

I've been on pins and needles for the past ten hours. It's now 8:13am. An hour past the intended start time of my last shift for the week, I'm grateful that when I called out last minute they were able to switch me to come in tonight.

I had been nursing the same bland cup of drip coffee for who knows how long. Watching relatives pacing back and forth in the confines of this tiny ICU waiting room, I wanted to make my exit but my conscious weighed me down.

I find it funny how I work in a hospital, but when it comes to visiting a loved one I instantly hate it. I only mind visiting people when it's something joyous like the birth of a baby. Any other reason, my mind just travels to the worst possible outcome. The combination of my anxiety, this headache I've developed, and the sour scent of ammonia had my stomach doing flips.

Tossing me a honey bun and a ginger ale before chowing down on her cafeteria scrambled eggs, Morgan took in my drained appearance. "Sis, you look like shit."

I cut my eyes at her. "Says the person wearing her granny bonnet and a t-shirt thats two sizes two small. Don't hate on me because the bags under my eyes are designer."

"Ha ha ha, you're not funny. Seriously, I think you should go home and rest. You have to be at work in less than twelve hours. You can't possibly work another twelve hour shift on little to no sleep. Don't make me go get dad."

Nervously fiddling with the hoodie of my jacket I said, "I don't know, I want to leave but, I don't know. I just need a status update or—"

Before I could finish my sentence, my aunt Robin appeared from around the corner coming from the hospital room. Slowly walking towards us, instantaneously everyone jumped to their feet, bombarding her with questions. Stating that our grandma was stable and alert, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently the cause of her ailment was low blood pressure and slight malnutrition.