Sixty Eight

Nate had insisted I went to see the nurse this morning, after experiencing continuous dizzy spells and waves of nausea since yesterday evening.

I repeatedly told him I’d more than likely eaten something funny, but he wouldn’t settle with that reason. So after a huff and a puff, I stripped off my stubborn boots and finally agreed to see the nurse. Frankly, I think he needed the distraction anyway.

So as Nate paced around the nurse’s office anxiously awaiting my blood results, I laid awkwardly on the hospital bed twiddling my fingers, trying not to bring the new hit of nausea I was suffering from to his attention.

As the brunette nurse, I now knew was named Mary, reentered her office Nate threw his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. “Finally!” He muttered, as he took his place back by my side.

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, choosing to ignore his impatience, even though we’d only be waiting approximately 6 minutes. I’d learnt to pick my battles with Nate, some comments j