“Well, maybe he’s up for yoga or some meditation,” she joked.
“And, if that doesn’t work,” he said, “a lot of the guys do well with the hot tub.”
“I don’t think he’s been cleared yet,” she said.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t get him cleared.”
She kept an eye on Lance for the rest of the day, just checking in on his schedule and then walking past when she knew he would be back in his room. Once when she came, she got no answer when she tapped on the door. The second time the door was open, but he was sound asleep on his bed. Then it was dinnertime, and she was already off shift. She went back to her room, quickly changed, and headed back up for dinner. She was going into town this evening with some friends, a group from the center who would catch a movie.
After she was done with dinner, they met out front and went together in the same vehicle. She thoroughly enjoyed herself. One of the nicest things about working at Hathaway was making friends with the patients, but it was also nice to leave them and to not feel guilty about getting away. As health care professionals, they all experienced the same thing because it was doubly a problem when you lived and worked in the same space. They tried not to talk shop when they were out, but sometimes it was inevitable too. By the time she got home, she quickly had a shower and fell into bed with a smile on her face.
She hoped that, over the next couple days, Lance would have an easier time of it. But chances were, he would be stubborn and would not get along with the prescription drug program as it was. It’s not that she was a huge proponent of drugs; she was a nurse after all, so she’d seen the benefits, but she also seen that some people didn’t do so well with them. Still, it was always about trying to find out what worked for the individual patient, and that was something she needed to find for him.
When she got up the next morning, while doing her rounds, she headed to his room, but his door was shut. She knocked gently, but there was no answer. She went past, finished her rounds, and came back. The door was still closed, and again there was no answer. Frowning, she made a notation, then went in and had her breakfast. When she came back out, she walked past his door again. This time when she knocked, there was a muffled voice. She opened the door ever-so-slightly and poked her head in.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said, studying him as he lay curled up on his side. He had a sheet up over his shoulders, but the blankets were on the ground. “Do you sleep so roughly all the time?” she asked, walking in and picking up the blanket.
“Only sometimes,” he said, but his voice was groggy and his eyes only half awake.
“Breakfast is over, and you still have maybe half an hour before you start your schedule today,” she said with concern. “I’m not sure who your first appointment is with.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll make it for food though.”
“Tell me what you want,” she said, “and I’ll go get you something before it’s too late.”
He looked briefly interested in that and then sagged back and said, “I don’t know. Whatever you think is fine.”
She frowned at him and said, “You need to wake up and to get up,” she said.
“I will,” he said, “otherwise Shane will come in here and chase me out.”
She laughed. “So, get yourself awake, and I’ll go get you some food and some coffee.” Not giving him a chance to argue, she headed to the kitchen. When she explained to Dennis what she was after, he gave her a plate of potatoes, with scrambled eggs and sausages. She placed everything on the tray, added some juice and coffee, then slowly made her way back to his room. He was at least awake when she got back.
He looked at her and the food with surprise. “I thought I had dreamed you talking to me,” he said.
“Well, if I would be in your dreams,” she said, “I’d like to think it’s doing something better than delivering food.” He flushed at that, but she just smiled, teasing him. “We were talking about you not having enough time before your appointment with Shane.”
“I won’t have time to eat all this either,” he said, but he picked up a whole sausage on his fork and started munching. She turned and walked away. As she left, he called out, “Thanks.”
She lifted a hand in recognition and laughed. But she was happy that at least he was eating. Now, if only she could understand what was going on with his sleeping problem.
Lance watched as Jessica left, quite surprised that she had gone over and above for his comfort yet again. But then what he’d found was that she was one of those special few who seemed to really care about her patients. He was lucky that way. When he only had five minutes to go, he still had half a plate of food left. He pushed back his tray, got up, and got dressed awkwardly. Then he sat back down on the bed, had a few more bites of sausage and eggs. With a sigh, he realized he was good to go, plopped himself in the wheelchair, and slowly moved out. He heard another voice in the back of his head, saying, Keep an eye on yourself over the next few days. See if you’re self-sabotaging.
He was sure he was doing this one thing: keeping an eye on himself. Yet he didn’t know how to determine if he was self-sabotaging or not. Or was it he was afraid to hope? To hope for
