“You don’t know what?” I asked. I looked at his hand because I didn’t want to look at his face blindfolded by bandages.
Isaac bit his nails, and I could see some blood on the corners of a couple of his cuticles.
“She hasn’t even visited,” he said. “I mean, we were together fourteen months.
Fourteen months is a long time. God, that hurts.”
Isaac let go of my hand to fumble for his pain pump, which you hit to give yourself a wave of narcotics.
The nurse, having finished the bandage change, stepped back. “It’s only been a day, Isaac,” she said, vaguely condescending.
“You’ve gotta give yourself time to heal. And fourteen months isn’t that long, not in the scheme of things.
You’re just getting started, buddy. You’ll see.” The nurse left.
“Is she gone?” I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me nod.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll see? Really? Did she seriously say that?”
Qualities of a Good Nurse: Go,” I said. “1. Doesn’t pun on your disability,” Isaac said.
“2. Gets blood on the first try,” I said. “Seriously, that is huge.
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