I have three nights off in a row after my four-night stretch and Marcus is never far from my thoughts. This obsession I have with my latest patient is making me crazy. Thanks a lot, Courtney.
I trudge through my days with the constant sensation that I should be somewhere else. It’s all I can do not to stop at the hospital and check on him. I called a few co-workers and used lame excuses to try and find out if Marcus had regained consciousness but he hasn’t.
I did learn, however, that his sister arrived and she has been sitting with him every day. Knowing he isn’t alone helps ease the unexplainable tension in my chest that I’ve had since my last night of work.
Three days later, when I’m a mile from the hospital, a sense of calm takes ahold and I let my foot off the gas and relax. When I’m back on my unit, I head straight to the charting station outside Marcus’s room. When I see him still lying in his bed, I breathe a sigh of relief.
A beautiful woman, who I assume is his sister, is at his bedside holding one of his large hands and reading from an iPad.
She has a glow about her, a pure angelic aura that is the opposite of her brother’s dark troubled one. Her long silky dark brown hair is gathered in a low ponytail that hangs to her waist, and she’s dressed in jeans and a cream-colored cashmere sweater that shrugs off one shoulder.
When I walk past the open door to his room, I glance inside. Her long legs are crossed, and one foot is swaying back and forth as she flips electronic pages with her thumb.
I have been gone for three nights. This woman could very well be his wife or his girlfriend, although I can’t imagine a wife or girlfriend taking so long to show up. My friend and co-worker, Monica, told me when I called being nosy that it took her two days to arrive.
No, his information said he had no other family, and they look too much alike not to be blood-related. They share the same beautiful bronze skin, dark hair, and long legs.
I turn and make my way to the locker room to change into scrubs and lock up my purse. As I undress, I chastise myself for caring about who is or isn’t sitting with Mr. Castillo. It’s none of my business. I’m here to make sure he recovers from a car accident, not monitor his visitors or worry about his personal life.
When I’m dressed, I swipe my badge through the time clock and find the day nurse to take report from. She speeds through the information as nothing much has changed. Some of the swelling has gone down in his brain, he’s still in traction, and, of course, he is still Roman Gladiator gorgeous.
I introduce myself to his sister while ticking things off of my assessment list in my head.
“Hi, I’m Imani. I’ll be taking care of, your… brother, is it?” I ask, praying that she answers yes. She lays her iPad down on Marcus’s bed and extends her hand with a smile.
“Yes, yes, I’m Elena, nice to meet you,” I shake her hand. Up close I see just how much she looks like Marcus. It’s uncanny how much a woman and a man can resemble each other. Marcus and Elena have got to be twins.
“Nice to meet you, Elena. How’s he doing today?”
“The same, I suppose; he’s so still. I’ve never seen him like this. Marcus is usually in perpetual motion; he always has been. We’re twins. We haven’t been close the past few years, though,” she says. Her words are laden with sadness, and I sense pain in her voice. After being with him for one shift, I can imagine how difficult it is for her to be separated from him long-term.
“Twins. I was just thinking how much you look alike; it makes sense now. I hear you don’t live in Seattle, where are you from?”
“Maine. About as far away as we can get from each other and still live in the States.”
I move to the bedside and listen to his lungs while we continue to get to know each other.
The distance between them seems to make her melancholy. I wonder why but I don’t want to be nosy, so I keep still about it.
It must be something serious to keep twins so far apart.
She slides her hand back into his and relaxes back into her chair, and I find myself wishing it were my hand on his instead of hers.
“It’s just the two of us, our parents aren’t alive,” she says.
“I’m glad he has someone here with him,” I say smiling. “He might be able to hear you when you talk to him. I always encourage family members to speak to their loved ones. You never know, it could help.”
“I’ve heard of that, but I wasn’t sure if it was true. I’ll start talking to him. What about reading?”
“Sure, anything that stimulates his brain can be helpful.”
“Okay. A part of me wishes he would show some kind of response, but, I mean, oh, I don’t know.” She shakes her head, and her voice trails off.
She’s uneasy, but I can’t tell if she’s worried that he won’t regain consciousness or that he will.
“You don’t want him to wake up?” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them. I can’t believe I asked that question out loud. What is the matter with me?
“Well, Marcus is… difficult. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything in front of him if he can hear me?”
“Oh, sure, if you want to talk about it I’m always just outside the room on the other side of the window, charting.” I point toward the window.
“Thank you.” Her eyes dart from my face to Marcus, and I swear relief spreads through her body when she sees that he is still unconscious.
At my charting station outside Marcus’s room, the bustling of the ICU continues around me, but the only thing I can think about is Elena’s remark that Marcus is difficult.
What did she mean by that? And why don’t they keep in touch? They’re twins, I find that strange.
When my charting is caught up, I consider Googling him or looking through his chart to see what kind of work he does. It’s not a breach of HIPPA, I am his nurse after all. Knowing his profession could help me care for him better, right? I continue justifying reasons to look him up because I do not snoop through my patient’s lives.
But, then again, I’ve never had a patient that made me feel the way Marcus does.
I flip to the first page of his chart where his admitting information is located and find Dominus in the box titled place of employment.
Dominus? What kind of place is that? It sounds like dominatrix; I wonder if it’s one of those kinky clubs that are popping up everywhere lately.
Google it.
No, it’s none of my business. My God, why can’t I just take care of the guy and leave his personal life alone?
Elena steps out of his room snapping me from my thoughts. She’s wearing a long camel-colored coat drawn tight around her waist with a wide belt. I can’t help but admire her soft Italian leather boots. She pulls off a casual exotic look with ease.
“Good night, Imani, please take good care of my brother. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Of course. Do we have a number where we can reach you at if he comes around?”
“Yes, I gave it to the day nurse. Please call me right away if his condition changes in any way, I’ll come day or night.”
“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
She turns on her four-inch heels and clicks across the tile floor to the elevator.
I want to be alone with Marcus. It’s wrong to be happy that his only family member has gone home, but I am.