Mary shifted uncomfortably. Between the I.V. in her arm, the moans of the poor elderly woman on the other side of the semi-private room, and the constant beeps and whirs and alarms up and down the unit, it was impossible to get any rest. The one time she’d managed to drop off for a few minutes, the nurse woke her up to take her vitals.
They should have released her hours ago. She would be so much better off in her own bed, with her soft cotton sheets and her down pillow and nothing but Max’s rhythmic snoring to lull her into sleep. But hospital policy precluded them from releasing her until she could successfully hold down some fluids. That meant she’d had to call Andrew to go over and take care of Max. And boy, had he been pissed. Not because she’d asked him to doggie sit, but because she hadn’t told him why she’d taken the day off in the first place.
Well, she said to herself, abandoning all hope of sleep as she flicked the remote toward the small suspended television above her. Come tomorrow morning she was signing herself out no matter what.
––––––––
“Take this out or I’ll do it myself,” Mary said when the shift nurse came by the next morning. Mary knew she was being a total bitch, but she was beyond caring at that point. Undergoing surgery, throwing up for hours on end afterward, and not getting a wink of sleep tended to make her cranky. But being treated like a witless child had been the last straw.
“I can’t do that. The doctor will be making rounds soon,” the nurse told her stiffly.
“You’ve been saying that for hours. I’m not waiting any longer. I want to go home now.”
“That’s not possible,” the nurse said, lifting her nose slightly higher into the air. If it got much higher, Mary thought, she’d drown in a rainstorm. “You haven’t been discharged yet.”
“Don’t need a discharge order if I’m signing myself out, do I? So, is that a ‘no’ on the I.V.?”
The nurse pressed her already paper-thin lips together even harder. “Ms. O’Rourke, you cannot - ”
Mary was tired of listening. She pulled off the tape and then extracted the tiny catheter in one smooth move. She grabbed a tissue and pressed it against the small hole as the nurse gaped at her and rushed to turn off the I.V. pump that was now sounding a very unpleasant alarm.
“Is there a problem here, nurse?” said a deep, masculine voice.
The nurse’s eyes grew huge. “This patient just removed her own I.V., Doctor.”
Rather than seem upset, the gorgeous doc lifted a perfect brow and pinned Mary with a set of the most amazing blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Is that true, Mary?”
She didn’t have time to wonder how he knew her name. “Yes. I want to go home. You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“You see what I mean, Doctor? She refuses to listen to - ”
But Dr. Blue Eyes apparently didn’t care to listen to Nurse Arrogance. He held up his hand to stop the flow of information. Amazingly enough, it worked. “Thanks, Nancy. I’ll take it from here.”
Nurse Nancy (Arrogance was a lot more fitting, Mary thought) hesitated for a moment and looked as though she wanted to say something, but apparently decided it would not be in her best interest. Mary couldn’t blame her, really. Dr. Blue Eyes had some serious authority vibes going on there.
“Do I know you?” Mary asked suspiciously. “You look vaguely familiar.”
“I’m Michael Callaghan,” Blue Eyes said. “I’ve never had the pleasure, but I believe you met my brother Ian a few weeks ago.”
Ah, right. Come to think of it, he did have the same blue-black hair and chiseled features as Lexi’s husband.
“Of course. What are you doing here? Are you covering for Dr. Whitney this morning?”
“Not exactly.” Michael looked down at the chart he had in his hands, scanning each page in a matter of seconds. “I understand you had several small masses removed from your breasts yesterday. They kept you overnight because you had a bad reaction to the anesthesia. Is that correct?”
“Yes, but I’m fine now. I’m not staying here any longer.”
Michael’s eyes lit with amusement. “You and my wife would get along very well,” he said with the trace of a smile. “She hates anything to do with hospitals, too.”
“Sucks for you then, huh?”
Michael chuckled. “Fortunately for me, she made an exception in my case. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she lied.
“Were you able to hold down your breakfast this morning?”
Mary lied without batting an eyelash. “Yep.” In truth, she managed to trade her roommate’s empty tray for her own. The old lady didn’t notice; she was so confused she probably didn’t even realize she’d gotten two breakfasts.
“And how’s your pain level on a scale from one to ten?”
Nine, she thought. All but the shallowest breaths hurt like hell. “One,” she said defiantly.
Michael chuckled again. “You’re almost as bad at lying as my wife.”
“I just want to go home,” she said, her voice softer.
Michael studied at her for several long moments. “How about letting me give you a quick once over? If everything looks okay, I’ll wheel you down myself.”