Nine ~ Evelyn

I throw the Clinell wipe into the clinical waste.

Having scrubbed the entirety of myself and my uniform, I slumped into the passenger seat of the cab.

There was no physical marks but I felt dirty.

Our last call had been a much deserving welfare check. A gentleman hadn't been responding to his mental health team for the last week so they escalated it to the nines.

The police had arrived first, ushering us in after gaining entry.

The sight was unthinkable.

My heart lurched as I looked over the patient.

So malnourished, his skin had regressed between and under his ribs. The only article of clothing scarcely covering him was a soiled dressing gown.

It appeared that he hadn't moved for several days, if not weeks.

His skin was caked in a thick layer of faeces.

The patient was barely conscious and not coherent.

Once safely at the hospital and handed over, I started to clean him with the special wipes used for personal hygiene.

The resus nurses were all too busy with their critically unwell patients to be able to do it immediately. And due to the urgency of the job, we didn't delay conveyance to complete paperwork. So, Sharon is currently tackling that.

I saw no reason why I shouldn't use the spare time to lend a hand. I began carefully wiping his face before moving onto his hands.

Sometime later, a healthcare assistant took over.

And now I'm sitting here.

Hoping the next job will be less emotionally demanding.

It's heavy jobs like this that make it difficult to walk into the next one with a smile. But, people need us and the cycle continues.

"Hey, did you hear about what happened to Claire?" Rob breaks the silence.

"No, what?" Sharon's attention shifts completely to Rob.

"She's being reprimanded for posting a video online whilst in uniform. Apparently it's pretty bad."

"She should've known better." Sharon show's no attempt to hide her disapproval.

I wonder what would happen if people found out about Adrian. I've only told Heidi and I trust Ade's promise not to tell but…I can't fully shake the worry from my mind.

The middle console dings to life and we drive to the next job.

Unfortunately, the rest of the night is just as relentless.

Doctors and nurses cram into every inch of the resus bay.

The patient is apnoeic, so all hands are on deck.

I force myself to walk out.

As I pass reception, I let them know two men are expected. The patient's grandchildren.

They had been woken up by her distress and immediately called an ambulance.

All of the stroke tests were positive but not severely so. She managed to walk out to the truck with minimal assistance.

With this in mind, the grandsons decided to drive up separately.

But, it all changed towards the end of the journey.

She started seizing and her oxygen saturation levels dropped.

We tried to insert an airway to make ventilations more effective but her jaw froze.

We wheeled her into resus with apparent haste.

The nurse retorted with snide remarks, telling us to calm down. Then she saw the patient and quickly shut up.

The anaesthetist immediately took over the airway.

The seizure self resolved, but she stopped breathing.

My eyes were trained on her chest. Looking for any sign of spontaneous movement.

Her respiratory rate eventually returned with my own.

For the next ten minutes, she periodically stopped breathing. Maybe it went on for longer, but I had to leave. I couldn't risk the heartache.

The adrenaline rush carries you through the job. You have to get it done because no one else will.

But when it leaves your system…

I often become a jittery shell. Nausea spiralling in my stomach whilst my head sways.

There's no quick fix for that feeling.

Tonight it follows me home. I shuffle through my front door at just after four am.

Pealing off my uniform, I head to the shower.

Turning on the water I climb in, hands splayed against the tiles.

They cannot offer me support either.

I slide down until I'm sitting in the bath, water pounding against my shoulders.

My hair remains in a bun. Damp tendrils stick to my face. But, I can't will my arms to brush them away.

So I sit there. Empty. Wishing the water would wash my memories away with it.

Sunlight floods through the curtains when I eventually clamber into bed.

Sleep takes me instantly.

The blaring crash bell has me fumbling around.

Why am I just sitting here? Do something idiot.

But what do I do?

Why am I not getting up to help?

Ugh! My head pounds as violently as my frustration beats me.

I look around, focusing on the details of my surroundings. Slowly, I realise I'm in my bedroom.

But my anxiety doesn't subside until the crash bell fades out and it registers that I was just dreaming.

Recovering from the disorientating sensation, I reach for my phone.

It tells me I was disturbed only three hours into my sleep.

My reoccurring dreams that extend beyond unconsciousness are one of the main reasons I still sleep with the light on at twenty one.

Sighing, I sink back into the pillow, trying to clutch at the remaining shreds of sleepiness.

Failing, I bring to mind the most comforting image I can think of.

I lean against a muscled chest, leisurely breathing in lavender and oak. Warmth radiates from his body, encircling me almost as tightly as his arms.

I melt into his embrace as it soothes me back to sleep.

Bring, bring, bring!

I smack my phone back to silence, before grasping at it.

Good morn-afternoon Evelyn, we've made it to Friday!

I open my text chain with Adrian, checking I sent him the correct time and address before firing off a text.

["Hey, just a reminder, no suits allowed!"]

["I'm pretty sure you think that's all I own and just want to see me naked ;)"]

["Eeeewe! What an awful sight that would be."]

["A true horror indeed, I guess I'll go buy some clothes then."]

And I need to stop picturing him naked.