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Friday morning, Matt woke up with a headache and a chill in his bones. It was quickly disregarded as he chugged his caffeine-free tea and packed his bag, running to catch the bus.
He was always told to work through pain and sickness. Most of the time, he was told that his pain and sickness wasn't real and was ordered to the yard to rake or weed or muck out the pens and stables.
After he left Montana and started nursing school, one of the most uncomfortable things Matt had to face was the amount of danger he'd been in while at home. His family's health practices were practically non-existant, he realized, and it was truly a God-given miracle that him and his loved ones were as alive and well as they were. So, he was especially thankful for his education and the opportunity to inform his family that maybe they should not literally rub some dirt on it.
But his father had told him over the phone that antibiotics "put the devil in ya," and his mother had laughed when he told them about stem cell treatments.
When he was seventeen, having his brother pull a chunk of the rusted, metal panel of a silo out of his shoulder and then have him stitch it up was 100% normal. He used to be proud of that.
But Matt wasn't thinking about that on the bus. He wasn't thinking about his health at all. He was thinking about Serena, Bruce, Alex, all of his friends at the hospital. They were smart. They always knew what to do, and he got to be part of that.
Matt thanked God for that.
—
Saturday was slightly worse. He didn't really have an appetite for breakfast and couldn't quite finish his tea. His shoulders were sore and his feet felt heavy on the sidewalk. The cold air seemed to seep through his clothes and skin more than usual.
At work, when no one was looking, Matt laid his head down on the counter of the nurse station. It was nice and cool against his warm forehead.
"You good, kid?"
Val's voice scared the crap out of him, and he quickly straightened, clearing his throat. "Yes, yup, all good. Just... admiring the, um..." He gripped the edge of the countertop, craning his head to inspect it. "Handiwork."
—
He didn't need to come in on Sunday.
That morning Matt snoozed his alarm and accidentally slept in until noon. He still felt exhausted when he woke up. Sweat poured from his brow and soaked his pillow, and his whole body ached. He figured a shower might help. He could get over this.
Standing for such a long time was hard.
That night was full of feverish twists and turns, blankets screwed on and off again as hot flashes and chills ebbed and flowed. When Matt finally slept, he had nightmares.
—
Monday morning slept on top of Matt, holding him down in his bed, adding 200 extra pounds of weight as he sat up, feeling his heartbeat in his temples and a terrible dread in his blood.
His uncle cut his own finger off when he got frostbite. Matt would be alright going to work.
The bus driver gave him a weird, concerned look as he climbed on, slumping in his usual seat. It was humiliating, feeling so weak and being unable to hide it in his movements. Then again, he wasn't really paying attention to how he was being percieved with the terrible heat spread through his body. There was a growing pain on the right side of his body now, too.
Before Matt could start diagnosing himself, the bus stopped at the hospital. He greeted Val as usual, but didn't look at her before hurrying to put his stuff away.
Just take it one patient at a time, he told himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. They were freezing. He put a shirt on under his scrubs.
Fifteen minutes later he had to take it off. He was sweating like a pig and had to pause whatever he was doing every so often to brace himself on a counter or bedrail, just to catch his breath. The rooms all looked the same and it was making him dizzy. Of course, he waited until he was alone. Bruce had slapped him on the back that morning, and when Matt stumbled farther than usual, he was concerned.
"Hey, Matty, you okay?" Bruce tried to step forward and set a hand on his shoulder, but Matt ducked away.
"I'm great, Bruce. Awesome, in fact. I," he started proudly. "Have an abcess to drain."
Bruce made a face. Matt made one at himself, too. But he turned on his heel, waving, and tried not to hold onto the wall as he walked away.
All this time in Oregon had made his body more fragile, he thought. Matt had always been the smallest of his household, but he could hold his own. Now he couldn't even handle a simple fever. He found some respite in a call room, where he leaned against the cool wall and closed his eyes.
The pain in his side was nagging, but it wasn't as insistet as the pain in his head and the lust for sleep in his soul. Just as he had relaxed a bit, the distinctive sound of a code came from a nearby room. Sure enough, the shouting soon followed, shocked Matt back into the cold air of the hallway and into the patient room.
Alex was squirting gel into a defibrillator and shouting "Clear!" as a doctor shocked the woman on the bed. Matt stood nearby, ready to help. They shocked her twice more before the heart monitor showed asystole.
"Shit, Matt, get in here. Do compressions."
Compressions, yeah. He was good at those. He saved that guy's life... that one time.
So he found himself on top of the woman, pressing into her chest. Her skin was hot and burned from the defibrillator pads. Each compression he gave earned him a beep on the heart monitor, but when they did a rhythm check it was still asystole. So he kept going.
They did eventually get her back, when Matt felt his lungs, arms, and abs burning, but they got her back. He got her back.
"Alright Matt, you can go take a break. Good job." Alex nodded towards the hall. Matt nodded back, exiting and turning the corner, but then the world folded in half. His heart was thudding in his ears and he couldn't see, and then he was falling. He felt himself reach out and grab something, but it tipped over with him and crashed to the ground. It sounded like a lot of small stuff. Probably important stuff. Idiot. Someone would have to clean that up.
—
Serena jumped at the clatter. She heard an "Oh my God!" and an "Is he okay?" and rushed over, hoping it was Ron or Bruce who'd tripped. When she saw Matt on the ground surrounded by syringes, clamps, and emisis basins, she was horrified.
"Jesus christ, Matt, what happened?" There were people in her way. She couldn't get to him. She had to get to him.
He was moving. He managed to get into a kneel, but he didn't get up. He stayed there, kneeling with his head resting on the ground and his arms cradling it. There was a soft moan, and then his shoulders started shaking.
Serena shoved people aside to crouch beside him, trying to look at his face.
He was crying.
"Matt, what happened?" She asked softly. The sight made her heart ache. He was so gaunt and shaken.
"I fell." He turned his head away again and Serena could hear him trying to take deep breaths.
"Did you hit your head?"
Matt shook his head, still focused on the ground.
A shout came from behind. "Everyone out! You're blocking the hallway, and you have patients to attend to." Alex pointed everyone away and stood over Matt.
"Matt, honey, we gotta stand you up."
—
They dragged him into a curtained off cubicle and had him lay down in the bed.
Matt felt so terrible he couldn't even protest. Not only had his symptoms worsened tenfold in the past twelve hours, now he had a gripping guilt choking his heart. He just wanted to go home and sleep all this away. All he could do in the moment was wipe his wet eyes, embarassed.
"104.4," Alex read off the thermometer that she'd pressed against his forehead. "Christ, Matt, what are you doing here? Didn't you feel sick this morning?"
He wanted to scold her for saying the Lord's name in vain, but all he could mumble was, "Since Friday."
Serena's jaw fell open. Suddenly, Matt felt ashamed. "I'm sorry... I compromised patients." He shook his head, pressing his palms to his eyes.
"Yeah, but you also compromised yourself." Alex put her hands on her hips. "What if you'd hit your head?"
"It'd probably sound hollow."
Serena spoke up. "Oh, he's cracking jokes now." The words were lighthearted but her tone wasn't. "You're a good nurse, Matt. You're good at taking care of people. How could you have forgotten to take care of yourself?"
Well, that made him want to cry all over again. He didn't, though, rubbing his hands together instead. He was cold again. "I-I didn't think I was sick enough, I guess. It didn't seem that bad." Goosebumps plagued his skin.
Alex peeked her head out of the curtain for a moment, saying, "Can we get a blanket in here, Dakota?"
Matt hated that. "Sorry."
Serena wasn't having it. "It didn't seem that bad? Matt, viruses aren't things you can just will away, nor should you be expected to." She sighed, looking down for a moment. "What symptoms are you experiencing?"
Dakota came in with a blanket. She stared a bit too long at the group. Alex glared at her and she quicky left.
"Fever, headache, dizziness, blurred vision, fatigue," Matt listed. "And, um, a minor pain in my right side."
"Yeah, okay, we've gotta get Ron in here." Serena stood.
"What? Why? I'm fine! I'll just go home and sleep it off," he said, knowing that there was no way he'd even make it home. But Serena had already left to go get Ron, and Alex sat down next to Matt with her kind, motherly expression. Gosh darn it.
The silence was thick in the cubicle. Matt pulled the blanket tightly around him, trying not to spill his guts, but he hadn't even made it five minutes after taking a second cookie from Nurse Marie's baby shower. He'd apologized and stuck and extra twenty dollars in the card he'd gotten for her. So yes, Matt told Alex about his family's lack of medicinal practices and how he was still getting used to allowing himself to be ill or injured.
He told her how he'd only taken a pain killer for the first time when he was twenty-two, and how he'd had to get a dozen vaccines in a week before he could start his internship at St. Charles. He told her how he didn't know people actually cried when they were in pain, like he saw on TV.
"Wait, what?" Alex waved her hands for him to stop. "You didn't think people cried when they were in pain?"
Matt shrugged. "I mean, no. I was always told that I had to be strong when God tested me and my body. I only found out when we were taught about bedside manner in school."
Alex tilted her head. "What happened when you did cry? When you were a kid, at home."
Matt didn't want to answer that.
But he told her everything else he was afraid and ashamed of regarding his health.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm not qualified to do this job. O-or even, like, participate in society. I feel so useless. Especially because you're right, you know? I can't even take care of myself..."
She put a hand on his knee, reassuring him. "Sweetie, you're not useless. You are a very important cog that keeps this rusty machine of a hospital running. You have a bit more learning to do, but that's not a bad thing."
Matt sighed. It was nice to talk about these things with someone.
"Learning is one of the best parts about this job. Don't ever forget that, okay? Don't feel bad for trying to be better. Because I know that after this..." Alex smiled, playfulness in her eyes. "You'll try harder to not push yourself so much?"
He nodded, feeling lighter. Still, the conversation was exhausting. That same weight held him down in the bed now, his limbs made of aching lead, but he didn't fight it.
—
Stupid fucking Matt. Stupid boy. Always walking into things or accidentally stabbing himself or otherwise risking his stupid life.
Serena printed out a chart and scribbled on it angrily, pissed that her friend's name was at the top of it. Her chest felt tight. Why hadn't she noticed this?
Ron came up to her. Perfect. Literally just who she was looking for.
"Oh, hey, I was actually going to come find you. Did you see what, uh, what happened?" She gestured to the hall where Matt had fallen.
He nodded. "Yeah, everyone's chattering about it. People these days just don't get spacial awareness-"
"Matt's sick. Really sick." She hadn't meant to sound so defensive, so angry, but she supposed she was.
Ron's eyes widened. "Wh- Is he okay?"
"He's fine. I mean, the fall didn't hurt him. But I need you to check him out."
The doctor sighed, nodding. There was a long silence as Serena returned to the chart, penning the last details she could remember. Matt had no patient information in the hospital's system. Or anywhere, she suspected.
"You really care about him." Ron's voice pierced through her thoughts.
Serena didn't appreciate the statement. Of course she cared. She cared about all her friends. She hated seeing them hurt or stressed or even just too stupid to take care of themselves. Stupid Matt.
"Obviously," was all she said out loud.
Ron shook his head. "I have a feeling you want to know him more." He poked Serena in the arm. "And I bet he wants to let you."
—
At some point he'd dozed off, waking up twenty or so minutes later in an empty cubicle, sweating. His mouth was dry. Right at that moment, Serena yanked the curtain open, prompting Matt to yelp loudly.
"Cheese balls, Serena!"
Ron was behind her, rolling his eyes. They both stepped inside. Matt repeated his symptoms to the man, who confirmed that they'd need to do some tests and stepped out to allow Serena to take blood and set up an IV. She had a hard time making eye contact. Still, the touch on the crook of his arm was gentle.
He wondered if she noticed how clammy he was. His side twinged.
Usually Matt would freak out at the idea of a needle in his arm and seeing his own blood come out, but he was so exhausted that he just looked away and dug his fingers into the mattress. It really was just a pinch, after all. He wished Serena would say something. She looked upset. Upset with him. He didn't know if he could handle that.
She was the only person in the world he felt could understand him. She tried to, at least. All his colleagues just dismissed him as weird and different, even if they liked him. If there was one person he actually wanted to talk to about the uncomfortable things from his old life, it'd be Serena.
Maybe God heard his wishes, because after she'd finished withdrawing blood and setting up the IV with a banana bag, she stopped before opening the curtain to leave.
Without turning around, she said, "You could have told me."
Matt didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," he said automatically.
"Don't-" She sighed, cutting herself off. Staring at the floor, Serena still couldn't fully turn and look at him. "Don't say that. Don't be sorry. I want to know why. Tell me why."
Suddenly Matt's throat felt full of sludge and the pain in his head gave a strong reminder of it's existence. "I didn't want to cause trouble. We're already shortstaffed as is, it'd have been awful to stay home knowing you guys would be suffering for it."
Serena faced him know, face full of confusion. "How can you be so incapable of selfishness?? You're so..." She made tight fists. "Frustrating. Now I'm going to constantly worry if you're secretly fighting some deadly disease and I'm just too stupid to even see it! Do you not feel like you can come to me? Just to tell me you feel like shit? Just to complain?" Her voice sounded strained and it'd gone up in pitch. "Please, Matt, please complain to me. I couldn't bear it if something else happened to you because you didn't want to bother us."
Her eyes were glistening with tears but she dried them with her sleeve. Matt's eyes burned as well. But he'd already cried. That was already too much.
There was a long silence where Matt just tried to keep his breathing soft and even. He felt like he was suffocating.
"You know my family doesn't believe in medicine," he said softly. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, but he wanted to say something.
Serena nodded.
Matt continued. "It's been very... difficult to get those ideas out of my head. I've tried, over the years, because I want to help people. I always knew my parents were wrong about some things, but it's hard to just-" He had to force the words out. "Just purge everything I've known. It's like I'm betraying them."
A tear fell down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, looking up at the ceiling to prevent any more from following. "I have to hold on to something. I have to be able to prove to myself, to my parents, that I'm still part of their family, and that my faith is strong. We always believed that if you sacrificed enough for God, He'd help you through any hardship.
"I don't mean to make myself suffer for that cause. It just feels like I have to."
Serena kept nodding, sitting in a chair next to the bed. She didn't look angry or confused anymore. In fact, she looked like she understood how he was feeling more than he did.
She folding her hands, leaning forward. "You told me about your cousin, Wyatt."
That was one of the last gatherings they'd held at the commune before Matt left. Wyatt's funeral. It was also what solidified Matt's decision to leave for med school.
His cousin was a good man. He was young, with two beautiful baby daughters and a loving partner.
Matt felt like he was going insane hearing his family try to justify his death with scripture.
Matt felt like he did go insane trying to convince himself that there was nothing else that could've been done. Because there was. Wyatt had symptoms for weeks before he died. All he needed was a doctor's appointment, a perscription for antibiotics. But Matt's mother insisted that if prayers and mint oil didn't work, nothing would have.
"Did Wyatt need to suffer for his faith?" Serena asked.
Matt immediately shook his head. No, Wyatt was a God-fearing man through and through. That wasn't more or less true because he didn't seek medical attention.
These memories were bringing up horrible feelings in Matt, blame he'd placed on his family, that he'd shoved down years ago. They tasted like bile in his throat.
"So why should you?"
Matt broke down crying again. Serena was right. He felt horrible. He felt like shit inside and out and he didn't want to feel like that anymore, and years of medical school told him that he needed to see a doctor, so he would see a damn doctor. God would understand. He had to. Otherwise, how good could he be?
He felt arms around his shoulders, cradling him as he sobbed into his hands. Serena rested her chin on his head.
"I'm sorry..." Matt sniffed.
Serena shook her head. "You're not allowed to say that anymore."
—
Matt slept for three more hours despite the incessant grating noises of the ER. He was startled awake by Ron tearing the curtain open with his test results.
How on earth did he get mono?
"The virus likely caused your spleen to swell, which explains the pain in your side. It also explains your fever and fatigue," Ron explained.
"But my throat is fine." Matt reached up and felt his lymph nodes. They were a little swollen, he supposed.
"There are many different presentations of the virus. You still have it."
Matt studied the stripes of the thin blanket he was given. It was probably the cup of ginger ale he'd accidentally drank from at Chaplain Steve's birthday party the week before. It had only been the one sip, since Matt would never drink carbonated drinks, but it was the most likely cause.
He was pretty sure the drink had been Keith's, too. Freaking Keith.
"Anyway, you need to go home and rest for at least two weeks. The worst thing you can do is exert yourself right now, Matt. You should rupture your spleen if the virus worsens. I will tattle to Joyce if you try to come in."
Matt chuckled, nodding. He thought of spending two weeks alone in his apartment and suddenly felt dejected.
Ron must have noticed his change in mood and patted his knee. "I heard Serena is setting up a roster for people to come visit you and bring you soup," he said, offering a smile.
Of course she was. That's exactly what Serena does, Matt thought. She takes care of people, and then punches them in the arm. Really hard. She'd probably bring him MacDonald's fries on her turn, for goodness's sake, but he'd love it all the same.
He loved her.
Yeah, yeah. That was right.
She came in to check on him a while later. Matt still felt like crap, but it was miles better than how he felt running around with a 104 degree fever. He kept dozing off, though, and had sweat through his scrubs hours ago.
Serena wiped his forehead with a damp towel. That was something they'd been allowed to do at the commune. He touched her arm.
"Serena, I'm sorry."
She threw out the towel and took his hand, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand. "Go to sleep, stupid."