Blame It On The Pain Episode 59
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🧏 Blame It On The Pain FIFTY NINE:
I hear shouting somewhere in the distance but I'm unable to move.
“Did she have anything to drink?” I hear Jackson's voice growl.
There's mumbling in the distance.
“No, I'm not talking about alcohol, Momma,” Jackson says. “She doesn't drink alcohol. I'm talking about a regular drink. Water? Juice?”
“I think she had some water,” Ricardo says. “I'm not sure, though. We were all paying attention to Momma.”
“Well did she leave her cup anywhere? Fk, maybe someone slipped something into her drink,” Jackson barks.
I hear some shuffling before I have the feeling of being lifted in the air.
Which only does wonders for the feeling of floating that I have. The chills are getting worse and my body is breaking out in a sweat.
My eyes flutter open, but the weight on my chest feels like it's made out of bricks.
“I swear to god. If any of you slipped anything in my girls drink,” Jackson shouts, addressing the entire bar. “I will find you and you'll need a good plastic surgeon by the time I'm through with you.”
“We need to get her to the hospital, Jackson,” Momma shouts. “She's shaking like a leaf. I think she's sick!”
“What do you mean sick? She was fine this morning and five minutes ago. She's not sick. Someone shithead did something to her,” Jackson roars.
“Wait a minute, Jackson. Think about it, she did run to our apartment last night in the pouring ice cold rain, wearing nothing but a pair of pajamas. It's still winter outside, she must have been freezing,” Tyrone says, worry in his tone.
“Sht. That's right. I should've been paying better attention to her and warmed her up sooner.”
I soon feel a wet cloth on my head courtesy of Momma. “Yeah, she's burning up. She feels feverish.
I don't think no one slipped anything in her drink, Jackson. But we better take her to the hospital just to be sure.”
She runs her hand through my hair. “It's alright, Alyssa. Momma's not gonna leave your side. I'm right here, sugar.”
I want to speak, tell her how thankful I am for her, but this feeling is only getting worse. The chills are so bad I feel like I'm going to drop right out of Jackson's arms.
Jackson peers down at me. “Rest if you need to. I've got you. Everything will be okay, baby.”
BLAME IT ON THE PAIN : EPISODE 51 – 60
Two hours later, the doctors eyes appraise me over a pair of glasses. He flips open his tablet and scans the rest of the small hospital room, his eyes fall on the three huge men taking up most of the space.
In other words, Jackson, Tyrone, and Ricardo. In addition to Momma, who hasn't stopped holding my hand the entire time.
He clears his throat. “Are all these people members of your immediate family, young lady?” Before I can open my mouth, Momma and Jackson shout, “Yes! Now tell us what's wrong.”
The doctor's lips twitch. “I see,” he says before focusing back on his tablet. “Well, my dear, it seems that you have a touch of bronchitis, a touch of an ear infection, and the beginning stages of what looks to be walking pneumonia.”
“Jesus,” Jackson says while sitting up in his chair. “Is she going to be okay?”
The doctor waves his hand. “She'll be fine. She collapsed because the ear infection threw off her equilibrium, her chest hurts because of the bronchitis, and she has chills because of the pneumonia.
Luckily, we caught the pneumonia in the beginning stages. A course of antibiotics will clear everything up.”
The doctor pauses and fixes his eyes on me again. “Young lady, might I suggest that you don't go for a jog again in the middle of the night wearing nothing but pajamas while there is ice and rain falling from the sky during the first week of March.”
“Thanks, Tyrone,” I mutter.
He holds up his hands. “Don't ‘thanks Tyrone' me. If you don't tell the doctor everything, how is he supposed to be able to diagnose and treat you properly?”
I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to the doctor. “So can I go home?”
He shakes his head. “Yes, but not right now. I want to get some fluids in you first. The nurse should be in soon to start an IV. You can go home in the next couple of hours.” He looks at Momma. “But I do want to ensure that she has someone to take care of her for the next few days.
I don't want her collapsing again.” He looks back at his tablet and makes a face. “I see that your address is the same address as the bar called “Finnley's'.”
I wonder how he knows that my apartment is at a bar, but before I can ask he says, “My son's a musician who frequents the bar. He's also dating the owner, Shane. Nice guy.”
I give him a smile. “That he is.”
Momma stands up. “Don't worry, Doctor. I will see to it that she gets the very best care.”
She turns to Jackson. “And she won't be staying at no bar. She'll be coming back to the apartment with us.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Jackson cuts me off by saying, “Yes, of course. And you won't be the one taking care of her, Momma. I will.”
Momma smiles and says, “Well, I'm helping. No one makes soup for the soul like I do.”
“It's true,” Tyrone says. “Momma makes the best chicken soup in the world.”
With that, the doctor nods. “ Looks like you'll be in good hands. Here's your prescription.
But the nurse will be here in a few moments. She'll give you your first dose of antibiotics and she'll start your IV. After that, you're free to go. Take care.”
I take my prescription and thank him.
TO Be Continued