I know loads about 1950s/60s nursing training but nothing about modern training, and with all the other research I've got going on I hope you'll forgive me for inaccuracies in that.
This chapter is dedicated to Wheely_Jessi who's made a valiant effort at keeping me sane lately.
Also, it's the anniversary of my first ever post on here tomorrow! So thank you to all of you who have stuck with me in that time. I have many more stories to tell (ask Jess, she's seen the spreadsheet), so I hope you'll indulge me for a while longer.
Another rude and persistent buzzing punctured her oblivion, forcing her to surface from the depths of a blessedly dreamless sleep. Cracking open one crusty eye, Patsy felt around on her bedside table, her fingers shaking as she gripped her phone. The glare of the screen sent a bolt of pain along her optic nerve and into her brain. Nope. Phone was apparently still not an option. Although with sleep tugging insistently at her consciousness it wasn't really that big a problem. She remained aware long enough to note that her pyjamas were clinging to her skin, before oblivion pulled her back under.
Shakily balancing the over-laden tray on one arm, Delia tapped on the plain wooden door. She didn't really expect a response, but on the off-chance that Patsy was awake privacy had to be respected. Satisfied that there were no signs of life, she cracked open the door and peered into the darkness.
Patsy was sprawled on her front, twisted tightly in her duvet, but with one arm and one leg hanging off the bed.
The brunette winced at the pain evident in the redheads tight brow. Kneeling down and setting the tray aside, she stroked away sweaty strands of hair from what was becoming her favourite face. She winced at the heat that met her fingers.
"Pats?" she whispered.
The only response she got was something between a snuffle and a snort. Delia smiled indulgently, despite knowing Patsy would be mortified to find out she was making such undignified noises.
"Come on you poor poorly monkey."
This time she got a rumbling groan in reply.
"Not a monkey," Patsy mumbled.
"Sure you are," Delia declared, grabbing a flannel from the tray and dipping it in it's accompanying bowl of water. "You're a very naughty monkey. Chummy says you refused your painkillers at lunchtime."
"I don't need them," the redhead whined, pulling a pillow over her head. "I'm fiiiiiiine!"
"Mhmm." The welshwoman replaced the pillow with the cool damp flannel, pressing it to her friends overheating forehead.
The groan that escaped Patsy's throat made Delia's fingers weak and she nearly dropped the flannel, transfixed by the image of Patsy's face relaxing, the hint of a smile on her mouth.
Cool your jets Busby, she internally scolded. Perhaps it was time to practice that new nurses facade she'd been advised to generate? Keep it professional?
The welshwoman swallowed hard. "Does that feel nice cariad?" She was glad to hear her voice come out almost level. But cariad? Christ's sake.
"So nice," Patsy whimpered.
"You know if you'd just kept taking the paracetamol your fever might have broken by now." Delia could already feel the heat seeping through the flannel, so shook it out and re-dipped it.
"Please don't lecture me Deels," the redhead rasped. "I've survived years without mothering, I don't need it now."
"I'm not trying to mother you." Delia swept the hair away from Patsy's neck and deposited the refreshed flannel on the flushed skin.
"You are!" Patsy whined. "You're bossing me around, I can make my own decisions I can look after myself!"
Delia felt her own eyes sting watching frustrated tears roll down her friend's face. "Patsy, I'm not questioning your agency, if you genuinely want me to go away I will." She wiped the woman's tears away, allowing her thumb to remain and stroke along a well-defined cheekbone. "But surely you know you'll get well quicker if you let us look after you?"
Patsy turned her face ever so slightly to press against Delia's hand, a move Delia suspected to be an unconscious one. "I can't be a burden," came the smallest whisper.
The brunette's chest felt as though it was being crushed by iron bands wrapped around her ribs, pressure rising into her head. Her hand slid into Patsy's hair, gripping her skull and forcing the woman to look her in the eye. "Now you listen to me," Delia felt the growl rising in her chest. "You are not, never have been and never will be a burden. Never. Do you understand?"
A small nod loosened her grip on the redhead, but it was the look of shock in her eyes that made Delia kneel back. She pushed her fingers through her own hair, breathing hard to release the grip on her chest. "I'm sorry cariad," she murmured. "That wasn't meant for you. Not that the sentiment doesn't stand." She risked a glance at her patient and found her watching her avidly.
"Who was it for?"
Delia waved her hand, praying Patsy wouldn't push. "I'll tell you another time. What I meant to say is, if I was ill wouldn't you be looking after me?" She watched Patsy's expression shift from confused to sheepish.
"Of course I would," she muttered. "But you shouldn't be in here, I don't want you getting sick."
Delia snorted. "Pats I'm welsh, we're made of stronger stuff than you southern fairies."
Patsy glared at her incredulously. "Delia you're from south Wales, that would make you a southern fairy too."
"Ahh but you are from Shanghai, which is geographically a lot further south than Pembrokeshire, making you a true southern fairy," Delia grinned triumphantly. "Now," the welshwoman eyed the tangle of covers wound around her friend. "Do you think you can sit up?"
Patsy eyed her suspiciously. "What for?"
"Levi heard you weren't well, and had his sister bring in some proper jewish chicken soup for you." Delia smirked at the image in her mind of the earnest young man, not much older than Patsy, currently stuck on the ward they were both observing on, with a mystery illness. At least she hoped she was smirking. Despite being 99.9% sure Patsy was attracted to women, she wasn't sure if she was also attracted to men. And even with her own Kinsey scale 5.9 status, she knew Levi was attractive. And Patsy had been spending what little spare time she had on the ward sat with him. Delia might be a staunch optimist, but this was one area where she was loath to get her hopes up, and the sight of Patsy and Levi sitting together in intense conversation gripped her stomach uncomfortably.
And now Patsy was avoiding looking at her. "That was very sweet of him."
Delia looked away and snorted. "Yeah 'cause he's sweet on you." When she looked back the redhead was watching her steadily.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just trying to help him get a diagnosis."
The welshwoman raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't mean he's not sweet on you. Any bloke getting that much attention off you would be." She knew her tone had shifted from playful to almost petulant. Subtle Busby.
Patsy continued to watch her, seemingly thinking, before shrugging and tugging at the bedsheet where it had come untucked from the mattress. "I couldn't care less."
Choosing not to read anything into that response, Delia instead focused on the state of the bed. She knew Patsy hated things being untidy, the rest of her bedroom was immaculately organised, and she was certain Patsy would be more comfortable in a properly made bed. So she stood and started searching for Patsy's other leg in the tangled duvet.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to make you more comfortable." Her hand found Patsy's foot twisted in the fabric, her fingers brushing over the sole.
The redhead jerked her foot away with a squeak. "Please don't do that!" she whined.
Delia actually smirked this time. She'd discovered that Patsy had ticklish feet a few weeks ago. After a heated Mario Kart match one afternoon Delia and Val had ended up wrestling on the kitchen floor. Every time the got too close to Patsy on the sofa she'd try and nudge them away with her foot, so they turned on her, grabbing a foot each. Delia had come away from the encounter with a swollen ear and a bruised shoulder, Patsy fighting back until she'd extracted a vow on Delia's Welsh pride to never, ever tickle her again.
"Sorry cariad, but you've done a good job of cocooning yourself here." She flashed a smile at her friend, only for it to be answered with a grimace and a squirm. "What is it sweetheart?"
"I'd just…I'm not really comfortable with you…moving the covers."
Delia frowned. "How come?"
Patsy squirmed again, burying her face in the pillow. "Because…I've been really sweaty for three days…and I can't get to the shower…"
The penny dropped. "Ah. You're worried you smell?"
"I KNOW I smell!"
Sighing, Delia took a seat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking Patsy's back. "Is that why you've chased away everyone who's come up to keep you company?"
Patsy shrugged.
"Come on Patsy, we're nursing students. And you're ill. We're not going to judge you for being a bit smelly."
The redhead continued to avoid looking at her.
"Shall I open the window? A bit of cool air would probably do you good."
A small nod. She'd take that as progress.
"And after you've had some soup…" Patsy groaned, Delia ignored it. "…If you wanted, I could give your back a wipe down? Might make you feel fresher?" She glanced at Patsy cautiously, trying to gauge the woman's reaction. "Or if you're not comfortable with me doing it I could get Cynthia or Lucille?"
It was a long moment before Patsy responded. "As much as I'm dying to be cleaner, I'll need to think on that offer."
Eventually Delia wrestled Patsy out of the twisted duvet, shaking it out and draping it over her desk chair while she practiced her patient rolling to straighten the bedsheet. Of course proper practice presumed access to both sides of the bed but Patsy's slim single was against the wall, and Delia found herself awkwardly kneeling on the edge of the mattress and leaning over Patsy to tug the far corner into place. Normally she'd quite enjoy the opportunity to be so close she could feel the older woman's body heat, but the fact she was basically a human radiator right now was a stark reminder of the circumstances.
Delia was sweating by the time she'd got Patsy propped up on her freshly-plumped pillows, her muscles aching just a bit, which was strange given that it usually took a lot more to knock the puff out of her.
She flopped down on the bed next to her friend, soup pot in one hand and spoon in the other. Patsy reached across to take the spoon but Delia moved it out of her reach. "Oh no you don't."
The redhead glowered at her. "You are not feeding me."
Delia glowered back. "Patsy your hands are shaking so much you'll get it everywhere. Save your energy."
Patsy only managed a few spoonfuls, but it was better than nothing. The brunette took a quick taste before she put the lid back on. She sneered at the pot. "Better than what I was going to make for you," she grudgingly admitted.
"I doubt it," Patsy murmured, resting her head on Delia's shoulder.
Patsy lay still, breathing steadily, trying to will her limbs to relax. This was a terrible idea but she couldn't bear being this unclean any longer. The smell made her feel 10 years old again.
She could probably have persuaded Delia to help her take a bath, but that would have required her being unclothed in front of the young woman. She knew Delia would be discreet and respectful, but she couldn't deal with that right now. At least with a bed bath she could mostly remain covered.
A shuffling at the door drew her out of her thoughts. Delia backed into the room with a newly laden tray, which she deposited next to a stack of clean towels.
"Right then, shall we get you on your front?"
Delia's voice was a little breathy, and there was a hint of pink in her cheeks. Patsy felt a blush surge up her neck as she watched the girl standing over her, hands on her hips. "Actually Deels, do we have time to do more than my back?"
"How much more?"
"Well, everything if possible." The blush was throbbing in the tips of her ears as Delia's eyes widen. "If it's too much bother then don't worry…"
"No no…umm…it's fine." The welsh girl turned to the tray and dipped a flannel into the bowl of warm water, wringing it out thoroughly and handing it to Patsy. "Give your face a wipe over and I'll find you some fresh pyjamas."
Patsy noted the pink tinge spreading across her friends face as she took carefully measured steps to the chest of drawers, tentatively opening the second one down and appearing relieved at the content. The redhead ran the flannel over her face, behind her ears and over her neck, scrubbing at her hairline. Her hair was grim but until her fever broke there was little point doing anything about it. She watched Delia rummaging through her selection of nightwear. She hadn't really seen Delia like this before, like all her confidence was just draining away. She didn't like it. "Delia if you're uncomfortable with this…"
Delia turned around with a pair of Patsy's striped flannel pyjamas in one hand, the other raised defiantly. "Honestly Patsy, it's fine." Patsy didn't believe her. "I just…I know how private a person you are and…I just don't want to fuck this up and upset you."
"You won't," Patsy reassured, looking the brunette square in the eye. "I trust you."
That almost seemed to do the trick, a shy smile breaking across Delia's face as she glanced down at the clothes she was still holding and ambled back to the bedside. But the smile was short lived once she was stood over Patsy again. Her whole face looked like a flaming tomato. Patsy thought she looked adorable.
"Out with it Deels, what's wrong?"
The brunette turned her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "I err…I've only done this once on the demo dummy and I don't…How would…" Her hands were attempting to fill in the words failing to come out of her mouth, and they kept floating up towards her chest. If Patsy hadn't been so anxious herself she'd have very much enjoyed seeing Delia lost for words. "…Should I…"
"Seeing as I'm not a dummy or incapacitated," she held the flannel out for Delia to take, "how about I do everything I can reach and you facilitate Nurse Busby?"
"Facilitate? Yes," Delia nodded vigorously, her shoulders relaxing considerably. "I can do that. Very sensible Nurse Mount," the girl gabbled, dropping the flannel back in the bowl, sending water over the side. She glanced at Patsy sheepishly.
Patsy rolled her eyes. "Hand me a towel please nurse."
She was so exhausted it was inevitable that the procedure would be a bit of a catastrophe. Hell she couldn't even get her pyjama top off by herself, the long sleeves defeating her before she'd even started and left her pleading for Delia's assistance. With a towel tucked around Patsy's chest for modesty, the brunette had swiftly pulled the top over her head while staring at the ceiling Patsy noted as she emerged from the garment. Delia had then sat on the floor with her back to the bed, dipping, soaping and wringing the flannel and blindly handing it to Patsy before exchanging it for the rinse flannel and then another towel as Patsy washed her own torso and arms.
The redhead just had enough energy left to shuffle onto her front, clutching at her pillow and clenching her teeth and psyching herself up to reveal her scars to Delia for the first time. The girl knew they existed, Patsy had told her about them during a drunken conversation not long after Freshers, but she didn't think that had been enough to prepare her young friend. The car accident had left her badly marked, the top of her back shredded by the broken glass of the windscreen, the skin of her left shoulder and hip destroyed by her skidding impact with the road. The cosmetic surgeons her father had paid to repair the damage were some of the finest in the world, but her back was still a mess of skin grafts that had taken with varying results, while many of the glass lacerations had just been left to their own devices once the stitches had done their job. No one besides medical professionals and the matron at school had seen this part of Patsy. Not even her father. Delia was the only person she could comprehend revealing them to. Like she'd told the brunette, she trusted her. Not that made it any less excruciating to do.
"Ready," she lied.
She heard the air forcefully leave Delia's lungs, but it was only a moment before the sound of water reached her ears, and then the soft cloth was moving over her skin. Delia was so gentle it made her eyes sting, and she pressed her face harder into the pillow, a shuddering breath leaving her body.
"Pats?" The cloth left her skin. "Are you all right?"
Patsy nodded. "It's fine," she forced through her tight throat.
"Do you want me to stop?"
The older woman turned her face out of the pillow, she could just make Delia out, hovering in her peripheral vision. "I'm ok. Honestly." A wave of apprehension swept through. "Do you want to stop? I know it's ugly…"
"No it's not Pats," Delia leaned over to squeeze her wrist. "It's only an outward testament to your resilience. Just tell me if it gets too much."
Carefully the cloth was returned to her skin, the soap on it helping it glide smoothly over the rough and uneven surface.
By the time the rinse cloth was applied she was almost able to relax, able to acknowledge that she felt better for being cleaner. And almost brave enough to make a further request as Delia patted her down with a towel.
"All done. Should I put your pyjama jacket on before we continue? I found your favourite in the drawer."
"Umm…" Maybe not quite brave enough.
The welshwoman appeared in her eyeline, kneeling by the bed. "What is it sweetheart?" she asked, stroking stray hairs away from Patsy's face.
All Patsy could see in those gorgeous blue eyes was warmth and caring and…perhaps something else she really wasn't ready to acknowledge. However, she felt her bravery surge a little and took a deep breath. "May I ask another favour Deels?"
Delia rolled her eyes. "You know this is nothing to do with favours right Pats? I'm not expecting anything in return. What do you need?"
"Would you…" Patsy sighed out her anxiety. "Would you mind moisturising my back? They've been getting a bit tight lately.
Her young friend smiled and patted her arm. "Absolutely."
With surprising haste the bed dipped as the brunette sat beside Patsy, rubbing lotion between her hands. "Let me know if it's too much pressure." She laid her hands on the small of Patsy's back and pushed up. A tingling warmth spread through her muscles.
"Oh my god," Patsy groaned.
She felt Delia's movement falter. "Too hard?"
"God no it's perfect!"
Delia chuckled as Patsy's hands finally released her pillow, one arm falling limply off the side of the bed.
"How are you so good at this?!"
"Practice," Delia said nonchalantly, running her hands across Patsy's shoulders and back down her sides. "My older brothers are both rugby players, they get tight backs if there's a lot of scrummage."
Patsy all but melted as strong hands plyed the muscles of her mid back. She giggled to herself. "Matron never applied my cream like this at school."
The welshwoman barked with laughter. "I should think not."
Several minutes of quiet passed, Patsy more than content under Delia's ministrations. No-one had ever touched her like this, and it was glorious. If only there was a way to get Delia to do this again sometime.
Delia's touch slowed and gentled. "Can you even reach all these Patsy?"
"Most of them," Patsy huffed. "The consequence of being perpetually single, you get pretty flexible if you need to be." She laughed but it was hollow.
Delia hummed, sliding her hands up Patsy's back one last time. "Well you've got me now."
Patsy's heart thudded painfully.
"I mean for the moisturising thing not…you know what I meant." Delia grasped Patsy's wrist and slipped well worn fabric up her arm. "Seriously, please feel free to ask anytime."
She manipulated Patsy's other arm into the jacket, the cloth comforting against Patsy's skin. Apparently Delia was a mind reader now.
With a bit of wriggling, Delia made quick work of divesting Patsy of her pyjama trousers, hastily wiping down and drying her legs. Patsy felt a little guilty when the girl narrowly avoided a knee to the chin while cleaning her toes, but she had been warned several times.
Delia had then turned away with a furious blush on her face. "I'll leave you to sort out your…" her hands were trying to be eloquent again, this time gesturing to Patsy's pelvis, "…to sort the last bit." She'd left the flannels and towel within reach and fled the room.
Patsy released a sigh. She cared about Delia, and she'd never felt so at ease around someone, but lately there was an increasing, unaddressed tension when they were in a room together.
But there were other matters at hand. She had to get her knickers off and she was running on fumes. It took some fantastically graceful gymnastics (she swore she looked like a tortoise on it's back, despite being on her front), but she eventually kicked off the offensive item of clothing and did the necessaries, before collapsing onto the mattress. She just wanted to go back to sleep.
She groaned when Delia knocked in the door.
"Just a mo!" She did her best to cover her hips with the towel but suspected she still had some bum on show. "Ok," she croaked, hoping it was loud enough for Delia to hear.
The brunette shuffled into the room with one hand clamped over her eyes. "Are you decent?"
"As I can get on my own, yes," Patsy grumbled. "Can you help me into my pyjama bottoms? I don't have the energy left for pants as well."
And so the final task was completed, Patsy valiantly ignoring Delia's shaking hands as she pulled the pyjamas up to the redheads thighs. This whole ordeal was humiliating enough without unhelpful thoughts throwing their two penneth in.
"I'm not looking I promise," Delia declared as she pulled away the towel and held the trousers still for Patsy to make the final shuffle.
Once more the older woman collapsed onto her bed, utterly spent.
"All over cariad," Delia cooed as she retrieved the duvet and carefully laid it over Patsy.
The redhead groaned. "This fever had better break soon, I never want to go through that again."
"I'm sorry Patsy," Delia murmured, crouching beside her to tidy up.
Patsy noted the down turn of her friends mouth. "It's not your fault Deels." All she could reach from here was Delia's head, so she stroked the long strands of dark hair. "I'm sorry. I should be thanking you instead of whinging."
Delia removed Patsy's hand from her hair and kissed her knuckles. The redhead felt her eyelids drooping as she smiled at the welsh girl.
"Don't fall asleep yet," Delia commanded, grabbing a packet off of Patsy's bedside table. "Will you please take a couple of tablets? I hate seeing you in pain."
The redhead sighed, but she nodded. With everything else going on she'd been able to push her headache to the back of her mind, but it was now stabbing at the back of her eyes.
Delia tenderly placed two painkillers on Patsy's tongue and held the straw of her water bottle steady while she took long grateful draws of the cool liquid.
"Thank you," Patsy murmured, her eyes now too heavy to keep open.
"Sleep now cariad," whispered Delia. "I'll check on you later."
The press of Delia's lips against her forehead suffused Patsy with a warmth unrelated to the fever as weighty oblivion pulled her under.
The welsh girl wiped at the tears streaming down her own cheeks as the redhead curled up in her lap subsided into whimpers, her grip on Delia's pyjama top gradually relaxing and her knuckles regaining their natural colour. Christ she felt so useless. Every time Patsy started to settle another nightmare seemed to grip her. She just hoped that rocking her friend and whispering gently to her was in someway soothing.
"Delia?"
"Pats?" She pulled away far enough to look the older girl in the eye, not convinced she was actually awake yet. "Can you hear me cariad?"
"Yes," the redhead croaked, glancing around confused. "What's going on?" She reached out and wiped at Delia's cheek. "Why are you crying?"
"Sorry sweetheart." Delia caught Patsy's hand before it retreated and kissed her palm. "Your last nightmare was a bad one. It's hard seeing you so distressed."
"I'm sorry," Patsy murmured.
Delia's heart clenched at the remorse in her friends eyes. "No Pats, don't be."
"What time is it?" Patsy tried to push herself upright, but she simply didn't have the energy to manage it and collapsed back against Delia with a groan.
"Nearly 3, your fever broke about an hour ago, but the dreams continued so all I could do was hold you." Delia was suddenly hyperaware of the intimacy between them. It had felt only natural to hold Patsy close and comfort her, but now that Patsy was finally awake she was starting to doubt herself. "I hope that was ok?"
Patsy turned her face to press against Delia's shoulder, nodding slightly as she released a shuddering sigh. "Thank you," she whispered.
The welsh girl gave Patsy a squeeze, feathering her lips along her hairline. Soon the redhead began to grow heavy against her. "Come on Pats," she coaxed as she tried to manoeuvre out from underneath her. "Lets see if you can get some proper sleep now." She eased off the edge of the bed and helped Patsy stretch out a little more, straightening the duvet and the pillows as she went.
"You should go back to your room Deels," Patsy groaned. "You need sleep too."
Delia knelt down to Patsy's eye level. She could feel the guilt radiating off her friend. "Do you want me to go?"
"You've done too much for me already," Patsy sighed.
The brunette shifted to try and make eye contact with the evasive redhead. "Do you want me to go?" she asked again when she eventually managed to lock eyes with her.
Patsy glanced away again, but gave her head a small shake.
"Thought not," Delia chuckled. "Budge up." She slipped under the covers and Patsy quickly re-situated herself, resting her head on Delia's chest and wrapping an arm tight around her waist. Delia ran her fingers through strands of red hair, slowly massaging her friend's scalp. "I've got you Pats," she murmured. "Sweet dreams."
As she began to surface from sleep, the first thing Patsy noticed was that she was hot. Very hot. Oh please don't say the fever's come back again! Her pyjamas were sticking to her skin, and she kicked away the duvet as she stretched, groaning. She was grateful that her joints didn't seem to ache as much this morning, her head wasn't quite clear yet and she was still exhausted, but compared to the last few days she felt significantly better. So why was she so hot?
A groan from behind her reminded her that she was not alone in her bed. And now she identified the source of the heat. She had a human-sized hot water bottle pressed against her back.
With some effort she rolled over, taking in the pained tension in her friend's sweaty brow. "Oh Deels, I warned you."
"Not now Pats please," the brunette croaked. "My head is splitting!"
Patsy wrapped her arms around Delia, drawing her close as the welsh girl clutched at Patsy's pyjama jacket. "Poor poorly monkey," she muttered against her hair.
"Not a monkey!" Delia groaned.
Anyone who follows Kate Lamb on social media knows it's that time of year again. Vote for her to go to the arctic using the link below! Sorry I still don't know how to imbed links on here...if anyone can tell me how I'd appreciate it.
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