CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Next Arrangement.

I need to take a call," Harrison said.

Jasmine had already seen the name lit up on the screen, and she knew it was her cue to leave.

"My shift has already ended. Don't scare more nurses away for the next few hours," she said, picking up her things.

Harrison's eyes followed her until she was out of sight.

He swiped to answer, and Margaret's voice came through immediately.

"Son?"

"Mum."

"How are you doing? I heard about the emergency, and I've been working to cover your absence at the company."

"I didn't wish to be here," Harrison's voice came coldly from the other end.

"That's true, but we are requesting a discharge this week."

"I thought you would never request it."

"Son, you should be in touch with the board members so they know you're not a weakling."

Harrison knew from the moment he picked up the call that it wouldn't really be about his health. All his mother was after was protecting the family's and the company's image.

“Okay,Mum. A discharge it is then”

"Good." Margaret said, and the call ended immediately.

Still pondering how much what people said about the family mattered to his mother more than his health, Harrison scrolled through his phone for Ethan's number and sent him a text.

Schedule a meeting for next week. I will be there.

I need to take a call," Harrison said.

Jasmine had already seen the name light up on the screen, and she knew it was her cue to leave.

"My shift has already ended. Don't scare any more nurses away for the next few hours," she said, picking up her things.

Harrison's eyes followed her until she was out of sight.

He swiped to answer, and Margaret's voice came through immediately.

"Son?"

"Mum."

"How are you doing? I heard about the emergency, and I've been working to cover your absence at the company."

"I didn't wish to be here," Harrison's voice came coldly from the other end.

"That's true, but we are requesting a discharge this week."

"I thought you would never request it."

"Son, you should be in touch with the board members so they know you're not a weakling."

Harrison knew from the moment he picked up the call that it wouldn't really be about his health. All his mother was after was protecting the family's and the company's image.

“Okay,Mum. A discharge it is then”

"Good." Margaret said, and the call ended immediately.

Still pondering how much what people said about the family mattered to his mother more than his health, Harrison scrolled through his phone for Ethan's number and sent him a text.

Schedule a meeting for next week. I will be there.

After confirming the message was sent, he tossed his phone onto the table beside him and drifted off to sleep.

      

         The following morning, Harrison Cole woke to the sound of someone adjusting the blinds. He opened his eyes slowly. The room was quiet except for the faint beeping of the monitor and the soft movement of curtains. His body felt heavy and his throat dry. For a moment, he could not remember where he was. Then the memories returned.

The accident, the hospital, the sudden struggle to breathe and Jasmine Carter standing over him with that firm, emotionless expression as if his life had become another task on her schedule.

His jaw tightened.

“Good morning, Mr. Cole.”

He turned his head.

A nurse stood beside the bed with a medication tray but it wasn't Jasmine.

The nurse smiled politely. “How are you feeling sir?”

“Like I’m in a hospital. Who let you in?”

“That is understandable.  The men outside.”

“My shift isn't over yet,” the nurse added.

She checked his chart. “Any difficulty breathing?”

“No.”

“Chest pain?”

“No.”

“Dizziness?”

“Not unless you continue asking pointless questions.”

Her smile faded slightly.

Harrison closed his eyes. He did not want to speak to anyone. He wanted his clothes, his phone, his office, and the ability to stand without someone watching him like he might collapse. Most of all, he wanted to leave.

The nurse finished writing her reports.

“Your oxygen saturation is ninety-six percent on low-flow oxygen,” she said. “The doctor may not need to request you be on oxygen today if your breathing remains stable.”

“Are you done? Leave!”

"Yes sir," she said and hurriedly walked out.

Harrison stared at the ceiling. He had been in the hospital for just a week but it felt like months. Every hour had been filled with instructions, assessments, medications, questions, and people telling him what he could not do. He had built his entire life around control. Now, he could not even decide when to sit up.

The door opened again but this time, Jasmine entered. She carried a fresh chart and a cup of water. Her hair was neatly packed beneath her nurse’s cap, and her uniform looked as precise as it had the previous day. She did not greet him immediately, she checked the monitor first then kept what she was holding.

“Good morning, Mr Cole,” she said.

Harrison looked at her. “You’re late.”

Jasmine checked the time.

“I am not.”

“You were supposed to be here earlier.”

“My shift began at seven.”

“It is seven twelve.”

“Then I am twelve minutes into my shift.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Are you always this irritating before breakfast?”

“Only when patients start complaining before I finish my first assessment.”

She took his blood pressure and connected the oxygen at the prescribed flow rate.

Harrison watched her in silence.

The reading appeared on the machine.

“One hundred and twenty over seventy,” she said.

“Is that good?”

“It is better than yesterday”

Harrison noticed the way she moved around the room. She never rushed unnecessarily, but she never wasted time either. Every action had a purpose. Every item returned to its place.  He had seen her during the day, in the evening, and sometimes at the edge of exhaustion when she returned from dealing with another patient yet she never appeared careless or distracted and it annoyed him.

“Where is the other nurse?” he asked.

“Which other nurse?”

“The one from last night.”

“Sarah?”

“whatever her name is”

“She is finishing her night shift report.”

"She should be removed from my care if she can't keep her smile to herself," Harrison said and looked away.

Jasmine shook her head as she picked up the medication tray. The day was just starting and she wasn't about to begin an argument with him.

“You have a medication that is due.”

“I took it yesterday.”

“You are also required to take it today.”

“I feel fine.”

“That does not mean you should stop prescribed treatment.”

He looked at the tablets.

“What are they?”

Jasmine explained each medication, its purpose, and the prescribed schedule. Harrison listened without appearing interested, but he did not interrupt.

When she finished, he swallowed the medication with water. She watched to ensure he had taken it properly before placing the cup aside.

“Breakfast will arrive soon,” she said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You ate half a bowl of soup yesterday.”

“And survived.”

“That is not the standard we are aiming for.”

“What standard are you aiming for?”

“Recovery.”

He looked at her.

The word seemed to irritate him, Jasmine noticed and turned toward the chart.

“Dr. Lawson will review you during rounds today.”

“Tell him I want to leave.”

“You can tell him yourself.”

“I’m telling you.”

“And I am informing you that discharge is a medical decision.”

“I have people who can make decisions.”

“Not about your body.”

His expression hardened.

Before he could answer, the door opened.

Dr. Lawson entered with another physician and a respiratory therapist. Emily followed behind them, carrying the chart.

Harrison immediately sat a little straighter.

“I want to be discharged.”

Dr. Lawson glanced at the monitor.

“Good morning to you too.”

“I said I want to leave.”

“I heard you.”

“Then make it happen.”

Dr. Lawson approached the bed.

“How was your breathing overnight?”

The night nurse handed over her report. Jasmine said stretching her hand to pick it up from where she kept it.

“No further respiratory distress. Oxygen saturation remained between ninety-four and ninety-six percent on low-flow oxygen. No chest pain. Patient slept intermittently and requested discharge twice.” She added.

Harrison frowned.

“I requested it once.”

“Twice,” Jasmine corrected.

He looked at her.

“You were not here.”

“It was documented.”

Dr. Lawson examined him, looked at the monitor and asked several questions. Harrison answered impatiently, but he answered.

The respiratory therapist checked his oxygen requirement and adjusted the flow.

“Let’s see how he responds with reduced oxygen,” the therapist said.

The oxygen was lowered and Harrison immediately felt the difference. Just the uncomfortable awareness of his own breathing.

Jasmine stood near the monitor. His saturation dropped slightly before stabilizing and Dr. Lawson noticed.

“Keep him in the current setting for now.”

Harrison’s face darkened.

“You said I was improving.”

“You are.”

“Then why can’t I leave?”

“Because improvement does not equal complete recovery.”

“I have a company to run.”

“Your company survived before you woke up this morning.”

The room became still.

Harrison stared at him.

Dr. Lawson continued, “You experienced a serious accident, required emergency respiratory support, and remain at risk of further complications. We need to observe your progress before discussing discharge.”

“How long?”

“That depends on your condition.”

“Give me a date.”

“I will give you a plan.”

Dr. Lawson turned to Jasmine.

“Continue monitoring respiratory status. Encourage deep breathing exercises as tolerated. Assist with gradual mobilization. He should sit out of bed today if his observations remain stable.”

Harrison immediately objected.

“I don’t need assistance.”

“You do,” Jasmine said.

“I can sit in a chair.”

“Then you should have no problem allowing someone to ensure you do it safely.”

Dr. Lawson looked at the chart.

“If his condition continues improving, we may begin discharge planning.”

Harrison’s attention sharpened.

“Discharge planning?”

“Yes.”

“Today?”

“Not discharge today. Planning.”

“What does that involve?”

“Medication review, mobility assessment, follow-up appointments, adherence to treatment,home support, and confirmation that the receiving environment is suitable.”

“My home is suitable.”

“Your home is large,” Dr. Lawson replied. “That is not the same thing.”

Harrison’s eyes narrowed.

“I have staff.”

“Staff are not medical professionals.”

“I have security.”

“Security cannot manage respiratory complications.”

“I have a doctor.”

“Your doctor does not live inside your bedroom.”

Harrison said nothing.

Dr. Lawson closed the chart.

“We will review you again later.”

As the team prepared to leave, Margaret Cole entered. She wore a cream-colored suit, dark sunglasses, and an expression that suggested the hospital had already disappointed her before breakfast.

“Good morning Mrs. Cole,” Dr. Lawson said, signalling others to leave.

“Richard,” she said, acknowledging Dr. Lawson with a brief nod. “I was told Harrison might be discharged soon.”

“Discharge is being considered, not confirmed Ma.”

Margaret looked at her son.

“He cannot remain here indefinitely.”

“He will remain here for as long as medically necessary.”

“Harrison has responsibilities.”

“So does his body.”

Her lips tightened.

“Surely there are arrangements that can be made.”

“There are. That is what discharge planning is for.”

Margaret glanced toward Jasmine.

“Will she be involved?”

Jasmine continued writing.

Dr. Lawson answered before she could.

“She is assigned to Harrison’s care during the day and evening shifts.”

Margaret’s expression changed.

“Still?”

“Still.”

Harrison looked from his mother to Jasmine.

Margaret turned back to the doctor.

“Once he leaves, I assume the hospital will provide someone suitable for his private care.”

“That will be discussed before discharge.”

“I have already contacted a private nursing agency.”

Jasmine’s pen paused for half a second. Harrison noticed.

Margaret continued, “They can provide experienced nurses, preferably someone accustomed to wealthy and demanding patients.”

Harrison gave a cold laugh.

“Then they should send someone with patience.”

Margaret ignored him.

“Someone discreet,” she added. “Someone who understands privacy and will not discuss family matters.”

Jasmine looked up.

“Private nursing arrangements should also be based on clinical competence and the patient’s needs Ma.”

Margaret’s eyes moved toward her.

“You don't talk when I'm talking”

“I'm sorry ma'am”

Dr. Lawson looked at Harrison.

“Before discharge, we will assess whether he requires continuous private nursing support, specific shift coverage, or home health services.”

“I don’t need someone following me around,” Harrison said.

“You may need assistance temporarily.”

“I can manage myself.”

“You could not manage your breathing yesterday.”

The reminder silenced him.

Margaret’s face became tense.

Dr. Lawson gathered his papers.

“We will return after the next assessment" He said before he opened the door and walked away.

Margaret walked closer to the bed.

“You need to cooperate,” she told Harrison.

“I am cooperating.”

“You are fighting every instruction.”

“Because everyone is treating me like an invalid.”

“You nearly died.”

His eyes sharpened. “Not here.”

Margaret lowered her voice.

“Your board members are waiting. The company needs reassurance. You cannot return looking helpless.”

Jasmine kept her eyes on the chart, but she heard every word.

Harrison’s expression turned cold.

“I don’t care what I look like.”

“You should.”

“I said I don’t.”

Margaret glanced at Jasmine again.

“Can we speak privately?”

Jasmine stepped toward the door.

“I will remain nearby.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed.

“I meant with my son.”

“ You can speak with him while I continue my duties Ma,” Jasmine said and hurriedly left.

Harrison looked at Jasmine. For a second, something like approval crossed his face but it vanished quickly.

Margaret leaned toward him.

“We will discuss the private nurse later.”

“I don’t want one.”

“You will need one when you leave.”

“I said no.”

“You may not have a choice.”

Harrison’s eyes hardened.

“I always have a choice.”

Margaret straightened.

“Then choose carefully. Later son,” She stood up and left the room.

Jasmine came back into the room a few minutes later. She rechecked his monitor and adjusted the blanket over his legs.

Harrison watched the door. “Everyone seems to have decided what happens to me.”

“That is common when patients are unable to manage everything alone.”

“I am not unable.”

“You are recovering.”

“Stop using that word.”

Jasmine brought the chair closer to the bed.

“After breakfast, I will help you sit out of bed.”

“I will do it on my own”

“You will do it with my help.”

“Are you threatening me again?”

“No. I am preparing you for the possibility of going home.”

Harrison glanced at her.

“Home?”

“If your condition continues improving.”

“And the private nurse?”

“That decision will be made before discharge.”

“By who?”

“By whoever is authorized to make the arrangement.”

“I will choose.”

Jasmine looked at him.

“Then choose someone who will do more than agreeing with you.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You think you know what I need?”

“No, I don't.”

“Then don’t advise me.”

“I am not advising you. I am reminding you that private care is very important.”

Harrison remained silent. Outside, a trolley rolled past the door. Somewhere down the corridor, a patient called for assistance. The hospital continued its endless rhythm.

Jasmine checked the clock.

“Breakfast should arrive soon.”

“I’m not eating.”

“You will.”

“I said…”

“You can argue after you finish eating half the tray”

“Half.”

“At least,” Jasmine replied

He sighed sharply.

“Fine.”

Jasmine returned to the chart.

Harrison thought wasn't only on how and when he would be discharged, it was on what came after.

A private nurse. In his home. In his space. Watching him at his most vulnerable moment and seeing the weakness he had spent years hiding from the world.

He needed someone who knew how to stay in her lane. Someone who was competent and discreet. Not someone who was just there for the paycheck, or worse, for proximity to his name.

He hadn't chosen anyone yet, but he already knew he would not let the hospital choose for him. If he had to be watched, he would decide who got to watch.

His eyes drifted toward Jasmine. She was still writing, her head bent over her notes, unaware of the decision forming in his mind.