Dakota looked up only to have Valerie place a hand to her head and push it back down. “Humor me.”
Dakota rolled her eyes and lifted her left arm. What blood pressure and nosebleeds had in common was beyond her.
The cuff on her arm pumped up, started to loosen, then pumped up again. “Ouch.”
“Hold still.”
The death grip of the cuff finally gave way with an error message on the monitor.
Valerie moved away, saying she’d be back.
If not for the feeling of her nosebleed continuing, Dakota would have slithered out of the department. So long as she didn’t need to see Walt, she’d stay put.
Valerie returned with a manual blood pressure pump and replaced the automatic one.
After encouraging Dakota to spread out on the gurney, with her head down, Valerie took her pressure again. On the second attempt, Dakota started to worry. “Is there a problem?”
Valerie removed the stethoscope from her ears and attempted a smile. “Do you have high blood pressure?”
Dakota shrugged. “No. Not that I know of . . . why?”
“Your pressure is high, which might be why your nose sprung a leak.”
“What does blood pressure and nosebleeds have in common?”
“Quite a bit, actually.”
Not convinced, Dakota swung her feet off the gurney. With the movement, the bleeding worsened. “Make it stop, Valerie.”
“Keep the pressure and your head down. I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared again, when she returned Walt was with her, his face stone white.
Here she’d taken so much time to make herself sex in high heels and now she was lying on a gurney with a perfectly brilliant sweater ruined and ready for burial, dried blood down her arm. So much for her plan.
“Hey, hon.”
“Don’t!”
He took her warning and passed a look to Valerie, who looked away.
“Your blood pressure is probably driving this nosebleed. We bring one down, the other will slow. In the meantime we need to stop up this bleed.”
As much as she wanted to tell Walt to go to hell, she couldn’t. “What do we need to do?”
“I’m more than willing to take care of you without paperwork, but the hospital needs to start a chart.”
Dakota closed her eyes, not willing to look at him any longer. She forced a slow, deep breath between her lips and blew it out. “Fine.”
Blood pressure was about emotions . . . right? She was young, not a chance it was about her crazy diet . . . which if anyone asked was damn good.
Valerie rolled over a portable computer and typed in a few facts while Walt rolled in a cart. Another nurse Dakota didn’t know stepped in and started hooking her up to the cardiac monitor.
“Isn’t this overkill?” she asked.
Walt pulled on a pair of gloves. “Your blood pressure is 210 over 120.”
She zeroed her gaze on him. “I’ve been a little stressed, Doctor.”
He swallowed, sat in a rolling stool, and pushed close. “Try and relax.”
Valerie interrupted them and sent a menacing look to Walt. “Dakota, are you allergic to anything . . . medications?”
“No.”
“Health problems? High blood pressure in the family?”
“I’m fine. As for my family, we’re from the South. We don’t know a damn thing about our parents until they reach seventy and then we know everything. Hard to tell what’s truth and what’s contrived.” While Dakota was talking, she lifted her head and more bleeding made itself known.
Walt stood, pushed his hand over hers, and pressed hard.
“That hurts.”
“Direct pressure stops bleeding.”
“I’ve been adding direct pressure for a while, Doc. It’s not stopping!”
Instead of commenting, Walt looked at the second nurse in the room. “Pull out a nasal tampon.”
“A what?” Dakota pulled away.
“Damn it, Dakota. Hold still.”
Valerie placed a hand on her arm and directed her attention away. “Do you take any medication?”
She started to shake her head, and then said, “Birth control.”
“Last period?”
Last what? Walt was pinching so hard she couldn’t concentrate on what Valerie was asking her. “Three weeks, give or take. Ouch!”
“Hold this,” the second nurse handed her a blush-colored bowl and placed it under her chin. “Spit out any blood going down the back of your throat.”
“Spit?”
“Yes.”
“Southern women don’t spit.”
Walt wasn’t amused. “Blood in your stomach will make you vomit. Do Southern women puke, Dakota?”
Curse him! He was really starting to piss her off.
If she wasn’t already feeling the overkill of unwelcome fluid in her stomach, she’d argue. Instead, when the need came over her, she lifted a hand to help shield the need to spit.
Disgusting!
“I need to pack your nose.”
“What?”
Didn’t matter what Walt said, Dakota didn’t hear him. Valerie caught her attention, explained what they needed to do.
Instead of arguing, Dakota sat back and closed her eyes.
The pressure and pain of the packing made her want to fight. She didn’t. When they were done, the blood flowing down her throat stopped and she was able to relax. As undignified as it was sitting with her nose stuffed full and a sweater full of blood, she at least felt a little better.
Dakota opened her eyes to find the second nurse gone and Valerie walking out of the room.
Walt sat beside her. “How long have you had the nosebleeds, Dakota?”
“A week, two. I’ve been a little on edge.”
She blew out a sigh.
“A little stress doesn’t do this.” He was pale, not a hint of a smile on his face.
She wasn’t sure what this was, but she knew her blood pressure wasn’t going down with him by her side. “I’m not her, Walt. I’m not dying. It’s a nosebleed.”
His jaw visibly tightened.
Instead of commenting on his emotions, she asked, “How long does this need to stay in?”
“We’ll give it a while, bring your blood pressure down, and see if we can cauterize the bleed.”
“Burn it?”
“Kind of.”
“Great!”
He laid a hand to her side and she pulled away. “I’m trying real hard to calm down here, Doc. The timing of this couldn’t suck more. So give a girl a break and back off.”