7. Nova
7
nova
“Excuse me?!” I yelled, flinching at the pain that pierced my skull.
“You lost consciousness for at least fifteen minutes, and you’ve thrown up twice,” Dr. Gordon said, handing me a piece of paper that I just stared at because if I didn’t take it maybe I could forget this entire mess had happened. “You could have brain bleeding or swelling. Those can end up killing you.”
“Dr. Gordon.” My lip trembled. “I don’t have money for this.”
“Do you want Sol to grow up without a mom? I know being a single mom is hard, but so is being a parentless child,” he said, pulling out the big guns. “You have a laceration on your head, your shoulder was dislocated and you have a concussion. You need a CT scan.”
This asshole knew right where to hit me.
“We can call an ambulance to take you to Monroe?—”
“No!” I shouted again, making me flinch. “I can drive myself.”
“Nova, I can’t let you leave with a head injury to the hospital,” he scowled at me.
“I drove myself to the hospital when I was in labor,” I said, taking the damn paper from his hands. “This will probably be a piece of cake.”
I got off the table, my vision blurred as my stomach threatened to make me throw up again.
“Hey, I got you.” A strong arm held me up as a soft scent of citrus and something woodsy hit me.
The scent was comforting, the strong arms were a bonus, and I was just so fucking tired of life. I shamelessly pushed myself close to whoever was holding me, my eyes getting heavy. Fuck, a nap sounded wonderful. I needed to take a nap for a year and then I would be fine. I've been tired since I got pregnant with Sol and one tiny nap wouldn’t hurt, right?
“Hey, Nova.” The strong arms spoke to me as I felt movement.
“Yes,” I said, feeling cold for a moment before I was enveloped in a blanket.
“You have to stay awake for me and squeeze my hand if you need me to pull over so you can throw up.”
My eyes opened immediately. I was in a car, leaning against a pillow, covered by a blanket that smelled like strong arms. I glanced to my left to see Atlas driving, holding my hand. He looked more handsome since the last time I had seen him. His boyish features had turned into a man.
“You, ok? We can stop if you're getting too dizzy or if you're getting motion sickness,” he said, glancing over at me, his brows furrowed in concern.
I looked out the window as I tried to gather my bearings.
“We are on the way to Monroe’s hospital for a CT scan,” he said, squeezing my hand. “We've called ahead and I’m hoping we can get you in and out before Sol gets out of camp.”
“I need to call the camp and let them know?—”
“Doc did that for you and called the salon too,” he said, glancing at me. “The camp director said she would call you later on to check on you.”
Glancing at the clock I noticed it was almost ten am.
“We need to be back?—”
“By three-thirty,” he finished my sentence. “I have Colt on standby to pick her up if needed. Doc also said he could pick her up too.”
“Ok.” I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted.
“Rest,” he said softly. “I got you. We’ve got you.”
When I opened my eyes again, we were parking. The emergency room was quiet as Atlas checked in and in a matter of minutes I was getting rolled into one of the rooms. He helped me onto the bed as a nurse watched.
“Hey, how is it going? My name is Jane.” She smiled, looking at what I assumed was my chart. “How are you feeling, Nova?”
“Like garbage,” I murmured.
“Have you had any pain meds yet?” she asked, then put my chart down, and pulled a cart towards me.
I looked at Atlas.
“A dose of Tylenol five hundred at eight-thirty,” he said, confirming what I thought I remembered.
“I’m tired and I feel like I’m here, but not here,” I said, getting hit with exhaustion again.
“Ok, that's kind of typical from a concussion and it says here you fell off the roof?” she asked, as she attached the cuff to my arm, checking my blood pressure.
I nodded, too embarrassed to say yes.
“Ok, let me finish up your vitals, get you wheeled down to the CT scan, and then I will give you some pain meds.”
“Ok,” I said, feeling nervous that this was going to be worse than I had expected, like a stay in the hospital.
I looked over at Atlas, who seemed calm, looking over her work. I felt grateful he had come with me, and I didn’t have to drive. He glanced at me, his smile fading as he got up in concern. We locked eyes as we waited for Jane to finish up, he kept me grounded before a full-fledged panic attack hit me.
“Your vitals look good, how about your shoulder?” She asked me to take off the sling I had on.
“I think it's ok, it still hurts.” I sat up to give her a better angle to check out my shoulder.
“We might have to do an x-ray, but I’ll ask the doctor,” she said, pulling my arm up, causing me to flinch. “Movement is great, but I just want to give you a heads up.”
“Ok, what happens if it’s not put in properly.” I looked at Atlas.
“We dislocate it and try again,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder as I grimaced. “I don’t think that will happen, though, he did a good job of resetting it.”
She smiled at Atlas. A big wave of jealousy hit me. I wanted to tell her not to look at him like that… that he was mine? Atlas looked at me concerned, and I turned away quickly, my cheeks growing red.
Jane smirked at me with a knowing look. “Ok, let me talk with the doctor and I’ll be back. Do you need anything? Food, water?”
“No, thank you,” I said, leaning back in the bed feeling the nausea climb my throat again.
I took a deep breath, slowing my exhale, hoping to curb my need to throw up. Atlas got up immediately, helping me to the bed.
“Don’t fight it, just let it come out.” He rubbed my back. “Maybe we can ask for some ginger ale or something fizzy?”
“Is that medical advice?” I asked.
He chuckled, “Nah, that is personal advice. I got a bad concussion in high school. I was at the hospital and the only thing that felt like it would ease my stomach was ginger ale or Sprite.”
“Am I going to have to stay here?” I asked, but really didn’t want to hear the answer.
“I don’t know, your symptoms are concerning and even though the town has a doctor, if you get worse, we need a hospital,” he said, studying me. “I'd rather be safe than sorry where you’re concerned, Nova, especially since you have Sol.”
I nodded, hating the logic even though it was right. We spent the next two hours waiting for a CT scan and an X-ray. I fell asleep a few times in between and when I was given another dose of pain meds, I was starting to feel better. As we waited for the doctor's results, I constantly checked the clock. I was anxious to leave to go pick up Sol. I felt unsettled at having someone else pick her up and making her worry more.
The doctor pulled the curtain open as he looked at my chart. His expression concerned me as he looked more and more worried. He flipped a couple of pages as Atlas and I stared at him.
“Your CT scan looks pretty normal, but I am a little concerned about the lesion you have,” he said, looking up at us. “I think I would like to?—”
“Is it life or death?” I asked before he could tell me he wanted me to stay here.
“It could be, and I would like to proceed with caution.” The doctor put my file down, pulling out his flashlight from his pocket, flashing it in my eyes and I flinched. “Let me see the cut.”
I leaned my head down as he touched around the cut. He leaned back, touching my neck and then my hands and fingers.
“May I ask what her GSC score was?” Atlas asked.
The doctor narrowed his eyes at him.
“Her Glasgow Coma Scale was a nine,” the doctor said reluctantly. “Her scan looked ok, but her symptoms have me worried and the amount of time she was unconscious.”
“I’m a single mom; I can’t stay here tonight.” My voice was high-pitched as my nerves settled in. “She has nowhere to stay, and I can’t afford a hospital stay and and…”
I flinched from moving my arm too quickly.
“Stay with us,” Atlas said, turning to look at me. “I can keep an eye on you, and we can help you with Sol.”
“No,” I said immediately.
“Then admit her, Doc,” he said, staring at me. “If you won’t accept help, then you should stay here, where someone can watch your symptoms.”
I glared at Atlas.
“I don’t appreciate being manipulated to do what you want,” I snapped, my visions getting a little blurry.
“I’m not manipulating you. I just know you are stubborn enough to say you are fine, pushing your discomforts aside to take care of Sol.” Atlas raised a brow, daring me to disagree. “You need to be monitored, and these are your two options. Do you also want to put poor Sol in the position where she needs to go running to us? What if it happens at night?”
I scowled, grimacing in pain again.
“What if?—”
“Ok, fine I will stay with you if it means I don’t have to stay the night here,” I relented.
Atlas didn’t immediately look happy. He studied me as if he knew I would bullshit my way out of this, but he was right, I couldn’t put Sol through that.
“I can’t do that to her again,” I said softly.
He nodded as we turned to the doctor.
“Ok, well I’ll get discharge papers, and I’ll have Jane come give you paperwork,” he said looking between Atlas and I curiously before leaving.
Jane came in fifteen minutes later explaining what to look for and what to do about cleaning my cut and also the care for my shoulder. I would need to wear a sling for at least four weeks and probably do some physical therapy. No work till I was cleared for my concussion and then my shoulder.
Atlas gingerly helped me into the car, mindful of my injuries. Exhaustion was too hard to fight as my eyes fluttered closed. I leaned my head against the door attempting to stay calm. Crying was all I wanted to do, even though it seemed like it would make my symptoms worse. A panic attack was just below the surface, attempting to pull me down. I needed a break to catch my breath, to rest before the weight of life got heavier and heavier, threatening to pull me under. Sol had no one else but me, and as much as I wanted to give up, she needed me.
Atlas held my hand as he drove us home. He squeezed my hand comforting me and in this moment, he was the only thing keeping me from drowning and giving up.