Monica’s urges bubbles over when a hunky prisoner is admitted into her care
One night, I was on shift in the A+E department.
A hulking mountain of muscle was wheeled in, accompanied by two police officers and a paramedic.
“What’s the situation?” the doctor on duty asked.
The paramedic explained that the prisoner was in an accident. He was on a manufacturing line, and the machine malfunctioned. Piece of steel rod exploded. He pushed another inmate out of the way and he caught him it in the abdomen.
He was bleeding pretty badly, and I had to admit, I assumed that he was stabbed in a gang fight or something.
We immediately got to work stabilizing him. I was in awe at how muscular he was. Even the largest gown we had available struggled to contain him. My husband was reed-thin compared to this patient.
The doctor patched him up as best he could. Luckily, the rod didn’t hit a major artery or anything, but he needed to be hospitalised for a few weeks. The police officer accompanying him wasn’t too worried, either. Quinn- that was his name- was a model prisoner, apparently. I figured if he saved another man, he couldn’t have been that bad. I was definitely curious.
“So you know, I guess Bill doesn’t have time for me now?” Carly said as she hooked up the IV drip. “Friday is my day off and he told me he already promised the lads that he’ll go watch the Liverpool match with them.”
I looked through Quinn’s notes to make sure there weren’t any changes we needed to be aware of since the last shift. “Men are like that. They’re always going off doing their own thing. I’m lucky if I see Harold some days. I’m usually left to tidy up the house after he and our two boys mess the place up.”
“Do you… you know?”
“Do what?”
“You know… Spend quality time together.”
“Oh!” I chuckled. “Absolutely not. This job is killing me. And when you’re my age and living with two rowdy teenagers, you’ll be lucky if you find time to sort yourself out.”
I gasped at myself. It wasn’t normal for a woman in her early fifties to be sharing so much intimate information. But I…
