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Nick is back in the hospital, and this is where he’ll stay for the rest of his
life. It seems that we were too quick to decide that he was capable of staying
at home. We weren’t back in the apartment for more than a few hours before he
started having some real problems. His temperature was going up each time I
checked it, eventually reaching a full fever. Soon after that, he started
coughing, and feeling dizzy even though he was just lying in bed. The nurse
had already left for the evening, but I called her back, and she agreed that
he couldn’t stay there untreated anymore. For a normal healthy individual,
these symptoms could be treated on their own using over-the-counter remedies,
but Nick is in a really vulnerable position. He requires round-the-clock care,
and the kind that I’m not qualified to provide. They conducted rapid blood
tests, and confirmed that it’s a virus. Again, a normal person might be able
to fight it off on their own, or get some medication after a quick doctor’s
visit, but that’s not enough for him. He’s hooked up to machines, which are
monitoring him for a team of top-notch medical professionals. But where does
that leave me? I know that, when you add it all up, I’ve not known him for
very long, but we’ve grown pretty close in that time. I’ve seen sides of him
that no one else has. So I can’t just leave, even though he has more advanced
care now. There’s a protocol for this situation. It’s called a “hand-off”. And
I’ve officially done that, though I am still here, just now as a
friend, which is what our relationship was when we were co-workers. He doesn’t
have any real family in this world, so I’m going to do what I can to make him
feel safe and comfortable, even though it’s not my job anymore.
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