Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)
MADDEN
“That’s the third time I’ve caught you in the halls. It’s already after five am. You should really be sleeping, Mr. Davenport.” Janie, the nightshift nurse, shakes her finger at me like she’s scolding a child.
“Doc said I should be active as long as I feel like it.”
“That’s true, but you also need your rest. Can’t ya sleep?”
“Not really. Hey, Janie. What time does the doctor usually make his rounds? I was hoping to get discharged early if possible.”
“Got a hot date?” she asks, waggling her brow at me.
“Just anxious to get home. Hospitals freak me out.”
“I understand. I’ll send him in as soon as he arrives, but until then, you need to be in bed resting.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, mock saluting the middle-aged nurse, before I turn on my heels and make my way to my room.
I hate hospitals, and being confined in a small space does nothing to soothe the anxiety I’ve felt since I woke up. But I did wake up. Laying on the hard ground while I struggled for my next breath, I thought that was it. I’d soon meet my maker, and Belle would be left an orphan. I don’t remember much about the episode that landed my sorry ass in the hospital, but it has spurred motivation to getting my health on track.
I flip on the morning news just to have some background noise to fill the silence. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, thankful it must have been in my pocket when I arrived, I shoot a good morning text over to Carter to check on Belle. It’s too early for them to be up and about yet, but it won’t be long before Laney is getting my girl ready for school.
Carter is the foreman at the construction company I took over when Dad passed away. He’s been my best friend since we were kids, and he is like a hemorrhoid—a monumental pain in my ass that never goes away. Probably because he’s my carbon copy, though he never had a reason to let his health go. Carter’s wife, Laney, owns the preschool where Belle has been enrolled since I gained custody of her. It’s a huge relief having family to help care for her. Being a single dad is the hardest feat I’ve ever battled in life, aside from my health, which is why I have to take this next ste
p to ensure my daughter grows up with a father.
By the time I’ve finished the Google search and made a decision, the door swings open bringing bright light with it as the doctor and Cybil enter the room.
“Janie told me you were anxious to be released. It seems you’re feeling better this morning?” Dr. Shepherd asks as he steps beside the bed.
I thrust my hand forward in greeting. “Good morning, Doc, and yes, I’m feeling much better, although sleepy. I couldn’t sleep much last night.”
“Hospitals have a way of disrupting sleep patterns. Hopefully you’ll rest better at home tonight.”
“No doubt.”
“I’d like to start you on some medication, Metoprolol, to balance your blood pressure. We’ll monitor the anxiety attacks and later determine if medication is the right treatment. I’ll see you in my office in two weeks just to see how you’re adjusting to this medication and evaluate your lifestyle change. Remember—low sodium diet. Try to increase your daily water intake, and make sure you’re staying active. If you notice an increase in your heart rate, remain calm and breathe. You’ll have to find a coping mechanism to work through these episodes, barring you have any further. Any questions?”
“How soon can I break outta this joint?” I ask, standing too quickly and causing my head to spin.
“Woah. Take it easy. Cybil is working on your discharge papers now. Take a seat and catch your breath. I know you’re ready to get home, but you don’t want to overdo it and land yourself in another ambulance.”
“Absolutely, Doc. I appreciate it.”
We shake hands, and he leaves the room to continue his rounds.
Once I have the discharge papers in hand, I change into my grass-stained clothes. “Fuckin’ hell,” I groan when I pat my pockets and remember I don’t even have my damn truck, seeing how I was transported by ambulance. I quickly download the Uber app, never having any reason to use the service before now, and arrange for a driver to pick me up. Resolved to put one foot in front of the other and make a change for a healthier me, I put my plan into action.
*~*
“Fucker, why the hell didn’t you tell me you were being discharged today?” Carter gripes as I follow him into the kitchen. The scent of homemade lasagna and garlic bread wafts from the oven, and a pang of hunger stabs my gut. After I got home this morning, I took a long nap to make up for the sleep deprivation I experienced last night and ended up oversleeping. I woke up in a panic and didn’t give food a passing thought as I rushed out the door to run errands. I’m starving, but lasagna and bread definitely aren’t part of this fuckin’ low sodium diet. I will never be allowed food that doesn’t taste like cardboard again.
“Well, fucker, because I ain’t in Kindergarten and you ain’t my damn daddy. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Sure about that? What, with you passing out at the sound of preschoolers running amuck in an open field.”
“Fuck you, taint sucker.”
Carter grins and tosses me a bottle of water. “We have a fridge full of Coke, but I’m keeping my word. Your ass is gonna get healthy one way or another.”