Adeyemi’s eyelids fluttered open and from the edge, he glimpsed a female vision in white. Eyes widened, he shifted his head for a better view.
Only her back was visible; he noted her slim and tall physique was unlike his previous nurses. The last one was an obnoxious, bossy woman with an infuriating attitude, who thought she knew what was good for him. He had enough pains and trauma to contend with and wouldn’t have to add the woman’s sour and superior manner to his list of problems and so asked for her to be replaced.
He assumed the vision in white was her replacement and studied her intently and wondered what she would be like; from her stature and posture, she appeared young, too young for the job. For her good, he hoped she would be competent and of good manners. He needed no girl to order him around; he would have to establish his authority with her right away.
Theresa felt eyes boring on her back and knew her patient was awake. For a nanosecond fear clutched her heart; private nursing was a new phase of her career and she had no experience to draw on. She came on the recommendation of Dr Akin Reuben, her mentor.
She started her career at his clinic as a ward maid and trainee nurse. He discovered she had a flair for the job and encouraged her to go to a nursing school and get a professional certificate.
She had obeyed and with his help and support, made it through nursing school and in gratitude went back to work for him. She had worked there two years until yesterday when Dr Reuben called her to his office and informed her of this new assignment.
Astounded, she listened in silence. As the youngest, in age and experience, she never expected to be sent out for such duty. She thought private nursing was for older nurses with lots of experience; she expressed her concern.
“Theresa, it’s because I have confidence in you and trust your sensibility, that’s why I’m sending you out for this job. They needed a trustworthy and efficient nurse. I know you’re young, but I know you’re committed and good at your job, that’s why I chose you.”
“Thank you, sir, for the trust and confidence. What do I need to do?” Her morals bolstered, her face radiated interest as she listened.
“Nothing more than what you do here. Be in the ward to monitor him, give him his drugs at the right time, then help with other personal needs.”
Her eyebrows flared fractionally. “Personal needs?”
The doctor smiled. “C’mon young lady; don’t get any funny ideas into your head. I only meant to say your duties would include doing little errands for him.”
"Okay, sir." A mischievous smile sneaked across her face. She would accept any duty from Dr Reuben. He had always treated her like the daughter he never had.
And so, today she had reported for duty here, determined to do her best. When she pulled open the door and saw her patient, and his plush surroundings, more of a hotel luxurious suite than a hospital ward, her heart had lurched and her elation sagged.
She had stared at him, and a shiver went through her body. Even in repose, the hard lines of his otherwise handsome face showed he wouldn’t be an easy person to deal with.
Studying his face; with its petulant full lips and the trappings of wealth surrounding him. She concluded she was here to play nanny to a rich, overgrown baby boy. She hoped changing adult nappies wouldn’t be part of her duties.
“God, give me the strength and the patience to deal with him,” she prayed. She knew his type, over-pampered, bossy, conceited and with an overstuffed ego.
Heaving an inaudible sigh, she turned, a florid smile pasted on her face. She took four strides and stood at his bedside.
“Hi, I thought you will not wake up so soon.” A forced cheerfulness clanged to her tone.
“Is it not all these damnable drugs they keep injecting inside me that makes me sleep like a baby every minute of the day?” His face darkened sourly.
“It is to ease your pains and make you heal quickly.”
“I don’t need my pains to be eased, I need my legs to heal normally, and I want to walk out of this hospital with my two legs and not in a wheelchair.” Suppressed rage clear in his voice.
His tensed body and the swollen muscles of his forearm were evidence she was on the wrong track.
“I am Theresa Okeke, your new nurse. And as I understood, I’m to be at your beck and call from morning to evening when my duties end. Right, sir?” She looked at him, her smile intact.
"For starter, I don't need to be addressed as sir. I don't want to be bossed around, I don't need pity, I don't want slothfulness, I don't want a chatterbox. I just want you to do your duties diligently." His eyes bored into hers.
“My, my, what a long list of don't ‘wants,’ so what do you want then.” She appeared unruffled with his tantrum, but the smile rolled off her face.
“That name Theresa is too archaic for my liking. Don’t you have any other name?”
A startled look jumped in her eyes. "Is my name also on your list of ‘don't wants’?"
“I think so.”
“Then call me nurse.”
“No, nurse, is not a name but a title and I forgot to add, you have to do away with your starchy white uniform. If you have to attend to me properly, you should be free and not encumbered by your white.”
"What else, sir?" the ‘sir' slipped out of her lips unaware. She was occupied with holding her indignation at bay.
“Cut that sir rubbish.” He snapped.
"Yes, si--" She stopped and with an effort, held her tongue-in-cheek.
“The name is Adeyemi, or you just make it, Yemi,” he said offhandedly.
“Yes Yemi, what else?” The only visible display of her anger was her pursed mouth.
“Your name.” He repeated impatiently.
Theresa took a deep, silent breath. It would not be to her advantage to start on the wrong foot with her new patient. "You can call me Tessy since you find Theresa archaic."
“Tessy.” He tested the name.” That’s good enough, but how come such a young girl like you is bearing such an outdated name?”
Theresa shrugged. “You have to ask my parents, I didn’t name myself.”
She had spent about ten minutes with him, and all her reservations had played out. The job wouldn’t be as simple as the doctor made her believe, but then she remembered the salary and was consoled.
She would take him as a challenge. Over the years, she has learned to face challenges and not run away from them. She grew up in a police barracks amidst a rough environment that had taught her to be battle-ready for any situation and circumstances, no matter how tough.
She smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you always this hostile?”
Adeyemi’s eyes narrowed. His intimidation tactics weren't effective if she could muster the guts to ask such a question.
"Try lying on your back all day and night long, with nothing to do but sleep, wake and stare at the ceiling board, and the fact I will spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. How about that for conviviality?” Bitterness laced his words.
The forlornness in his voice made her demeanour relax a little. “Being bitter will not help the situation. When you’re in such a helpless condition, you take it in your stride and depend on your inner strength and God to pull through and not on what the doctors said. They are not God. It is only God that has the final say.”
Adeyemi muttered a curse under his breath. He hoped they had not landed a religious zealot on him. If so; she would be out of the door faster than she came in.
"Are you one of these so-called born again people?" His voice was scornful.
“Theresa smiled. "I’m a Christian, a Catholic in fact.”
His relief was palpable; at least Catholics are not known for religious fanaticism.
“So, learn to be cheerful, it will boost your morale and speed up your healing process.” She touched the cast on his leg.
Adeyemi watched her. He had used bitterness and anger to conceal his fear of what the accident would cost him in life. He couldn't imagine living the rest of his life in a wheelchair; no clubbing, no fun driving, and no polo game; rather, he would be on the sideline and watch his friends have fun.
When he came out of a coma and saw his condition, he wasn't happy he survived. In anger, he alienated everyone, refused visits or calls from friends and extended family members; only his mother, sisters, and fiancée he allowed to see him.
His mother had screamed, cried and begged him to be grateful he was alive and hoped that his condition would change, but to no avail. He was rancorous and suicidal. Apprehension over his safety had prompted his family to hire a private nurse to monitor him since the private hospital they transferred him to agree to the arrangement.
"I have seen worst," Theresa told him.
“You mean my condition is inconsequential?” He glared at her.
“No, but I have seen people in a worst-case situation, still they make a perfect recovery. Trust me; I have been in this nursing business for years. Most people who made it through a hopeless situation were not because of any wonder drugs, it was their inner strength, faith in God and a determination to survive.”
Adeyemi’s annoyance deepened. Who was she to lecture him? What was she? A pseudo-psychologist who spoke Yiddish and expected him to swallow it. He was self-confident enough to know there was a conspiracy theory about his condition. That he wouldn’t walk again was a certainty. The rest was just tales to make him feel good.
“So they have sold the story to you already?”
Squinting her eyes, she asked, “What story?”
“The fiction story about me being able to walk with my legs someday.” His eyes bored into hers.
She hesitated. “Come on, Mr Yemi…”
“The name is Yemi; I don’t need that Mister stuff from you.”
“Okay, sir.”
“Don’t sir me again, or are you daft?” His voice was sharp and gruff.
"Sorry." Theresa flashed her brightest smile. "Okay Yemi, don't you want to walk again or do you want to be pushed around in a wheelchair like an old man for the rest of your life?" She stared down at him, hands akimbo.
Her smile and pose caught Adeyemi’s attention. He stared at her and noted that though not a raving beauty; she had breed and youth, a sharp wit, and most probably a sharp tongue, too.
She had a born-nurse figure, neat and trim; with a smooth ebony skin that actuated her white teeth when she smiles.
His eyes moved down to her chest, full but not busty, and she had good legs; he recalled, her legs were long, slender and smooth. In a mini skirt, they could stir commotion.
It surprised him how his mind could go in that direction. He tried to quell his thoughts about her body; she was his nurse and was here to care for him medically and not whet his carnal appetites.
He scowled at her. “Don’t make jest of my situation, or you will be out of this door on grounds of incompetence.”
If he had to admit it, he was afraid of being crippled and this fear had kept him on pins and needles that he nettled whosoever comes around him.
“Sorry, it seems I have overstepped my bounds.”
She went to the side table at the foot of the bed, picked up his chart, went to the only chair in the room, and sat down.
Adeyemi watched her silent form for a while and wondered if he had gone too far with his antagonism campaign. He knew it wasn’t fair to take out his frustration on her. She had only come to carry out her duties and was going about it the best way she could.
He shrugged his actions off. What could he do, it wasn’t fair either? Feeling like a man in fetters, he thought of his mates out there having fun, while he was here on his back and had been for two months now with only the ceiling board to stare at. His eyes moved away, but he added her to his list of things to stare at.
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