Chapter 3
The box was white with a blue stripe and a little yellow corner on the label. I hadn't seen it before because the taller doctor had been holding it against his coat, but now he shifted it forward and his knuckles went white around the edges. That was when I knew it was for me.
My throat felt dry under the cannula and the blanket was too warm on my legs. I kept my right hand up. Two fingers. I didn't put them down even when my arm started to shake. The nurse still had my left hand in her gloved one, and I could feel her thumb pressed light against my wristband.
"Hey," she said, quiet, not to the doctors. To me. "Hey, sweetheart, I'm right here."
She glanced down at my wristband and turned it just enough to check the numbers. Her stethoscope swung forward a little and then settled again against her navy scrubs. She didn't let go of me.
The doctor on the right cleared his throat. "We need to proceed," he said. "She's had a reaction. This will stabilize her."
He lifted the box an inch higher, like he wanted the nurse to see it better. His grip tightened again. The cardboard bent a little under his fingers. I stared at that blue stripe and tried not to cry. I didn't know what was inside but I knew the way he held it meant he was about to open it.
The nurse looked at the box, then back at me. Her eyes were still wide but her voice stayed steady.
"Can you tell me what 313 is?" she asked me. She kept her words slow. "Is it a room? Is it a person? Is it a time?"
I tried to swallow. The cannula tugged at my nose. I wanted to answer with my mouth but my voice wouldn't come out right, so I used my hand. I moved my one finger — the pointer on my left hand that she was holding — and tilted it just a little past her shoulder, toward the glass doors where the red EMERGENCY sign glowed. Toward where the Navy man stood.
He hadn't moved at all. His arms were at his sides and his camouflage made him look darker against the bright hallway light. I didn't point straight at him. I couldn't. I just angled my finger that way and then brought it back and held up one again, hoping she'd understand it wasn't the medicine I needed.
The nurse followed my finger. I saw her eyes flick to the doors, to him, and then back to me. She frowned a little, just between her brows.
"Him?" she whispered, so low I almost didn't hear it over the beep of the monitor. "Are you trying to tell us about him?"
I blinked hard. Yes. I tried to squeeze her hand.
Before she could say anything else, the second doctor stepped closer on my other side. He didn't look at me. He looked at the nurse's hand holding mine.
"You're encouraging this," he said. His voice was tight. "She's agitated, you're escalating her. Let go of her arm so we can administer."
He reached forward like he was going to lift my left hand away from her. His fingers hovered over my wrist, just above where her white glove held me. I felt the metal rail of the bed cold against my elbow and I pulled back without meaning to. The blanket slipped a little.
The nurse didn't let go. She shifted her body an inch to block him, keeping my hand covered completely with hers.
"Give her thirty seconds," she said. She wasn't loud. She said it like she was trying to keep the whole room calm. "She's not agitated. She's communicating. If we push that med without knowing what she's allergic to, we could make it worse."
The doctor with the box exhaled sharply through his nose. "We don't have thirty seconds. Her rash is spreading. The order is already in."
I looked again at that box. The blue and yellow label swam a little because my eyes were watering. I kept my two fingers up on my right hand until my knuckles ached. My other hand stayed in the nurse's. The second doctor's hand was still there, waiting to take it.
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My chest rose and fell fast under the thin gown. I could hear my own breathing through the cannula, and the nurse's breathing too, and the soft squeak of her glove as she held on tighter.
"Don't give it to me yet," I wanted to say, but nothing came out except air. So I looked straight at her and lifted my one finger again, pointing toward the doors where 313 waited, and hoped she'd keep holding on long enough for someone to check.
