So what the hell was wrong with me?
Chapter Three
Birdie
I had the answer.
It wasn’t a good one.
My pager vibrated, and I pulled out my phone. “Layla?” I called.
“You’re needed in three-thirteen. The patient is having severe head pain, and he says his vision is blurry.”
“I’m on my way.” I ended the call and shoved my phone into my pocket.
All symptoms of a brain tumor.
We had no idea if it was cancerous or benign, but it was obviously causing problems for Easy.
Five minutes later, I pushed open Easy’s door and moved to the head of the bed. His mom and dad were in the room with Layla and Bailey.
“What the hell is going on?” Gambler shouted. “He was fine, and suddenly, he can’t fucking see.”
I glanced at Layla and nodded.
“His vitals are okay, except his blood pressure is elevated. One sixty-two over one oh two.” Layla moved to the side of the bed where Gwen and Gambler were hovering.
“What are you feeling right now?” I asked Easy.
He opened his eyes and stared up at me. “My head hurts, and I can’t see your face.”
I grabbed my flashlight and shined it in his eyes. “Can you see my light?”
He wrinkled his nose and nodded. “I can see it, but it’s not very bright.”
“Do you want me to up his pain meds?” Bailey questioned.
“When was the last time he had some?” I asked.
She was seated at the computer and scrolled. “Two hours ago. Eight milligrams of morphine.”
“Give him another two milligrams and then ten again in four hours if the headache is still there.” I turned off my flashlight and checked the monitor for his vitals. “We’re gonna try to stay ahead of the pain, okay, Grant?”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Easy,” he whispered.
“Well, it should be easy, but it’s going to take a little bit to find that magic spot.”
He shook his head and groaned.
“He’s telling you his name is Easy,” his mom explained. “He only lets me call him Grant.”
My cheeks heated, and I nervously straightened my stethoscope around my neck. “Sorry. Easy.”
“What the hell is going on with him?” his dad demanded. “Where the hell are the results of the tests? DO YOU’RE JOB!” he roared.
“Sir,” Layla scolded, “if you can’t control yourself, you’re going to have to leave the room.”
I glanced at Gambler, who held up his hands and shook his head.
