Back at the hospital

After my two day break, the morning of my next shift finally arrived, and I could feel it in the way I moved.

As I prepared to go back to the clinic, I noticed my heart was beating a little faster than usual, a soft, steady thump that I could hear in my ears.

I tried to act normal and told myself it was just another day at work, just another list of tasks,

but deep down,

I knew I was thinking about one person, and I could not pretend otherwise.

The young patient in the recovery room.

During those two days away, I had thought about him many times, more times than I wanted to admit.

Sometimes, I even caught myself smiling for no reason when he came to my mind,

a quick smile I hid by looking down.

But at the same time, another thought kept worrying me, a quiet worry that stayed in the back of my head.

What if he had already been discharged? That question stayed in my mind as I walked into the clinic that morning, step after step.

The familiar smell of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and clean,

and nurses were already moving around preparing for the day, clipping charts, and checking trays.

I greeted a few colleagues and tried to focus on starting my duties,

lining up my pens and washing my hands, but my mind kept drifting back to the recovery room,

as if it knew where I wanted to be.

Finally, it was time for me to go there.

As I walked toward the room, I could feel a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness,

both at once.

My heart was beating faster with every step, and my hands felt a little warm.

When I pushed the door open and looked inside, the first thing my eyes searched for was his bed, before anything else.

And there he was. Lying there, looking much better than the first day I saw him, his face less pale and his breathing easier.

At that moment, I felt a quiet wave of happiness inside my chest, warm and light.

I didn’t say anything about it, not out loud, but I was really glad he was still there, right where I hoped he would be.

I walked closer to his bed, trying to behave professionally like I normally did with other patients, keeping my movements calm and my voice even. But being around him still made me shy,

and I could feel my cheeks getting warm.

“Good morning,”

I said softly while checking his chart, keeping my eyes on the numbers for a second longer than I needed to.

He looked at me and greeted me back, his voice low and a little tired. Even that small interaction made my heart feel strangely light,

like something lifted for a moment.

I continued with my routine, checking his vital signs and making sure everything was alright,

writing the numbers down and double-checking them.

I tried my best to focus on my work, but I could feel his eyes occasionally watching me, and that made me more careful with my hands.

Then suddenly he asked a simple question.

“Where is your phone?”

For a moment, I was surprised, and I blinked. I looked at him and replied that I hadn’t brought it with me, that I had left it in the locker.

But immediately, a thought crossed my mind, quick and bright. Wow, maybe he wanted to give me his number. The idea made my heart beat even faster, and I swallowed.

I tried not to show it on my face, keeping my expression plain, but inside, I was quietly excited, a small buzz under my skin.

I finished my work and left the room, closing the door gently,

but the thought stayed with me the whole time, following me from bed to bed.

If he really wanted to give me his number, then I had to be ready the next time I came back,

ready and not caught off guard.

As I continued with my duties that day, moving from one patient to the next, one decision slowly formed in my mind, clear and simple.

Next time I entered that room, I would make sure my phone was with me, in my pocket where I could reach it. Because this time i wouldn’t miss my chance.