Thread: Writer's Block [Gypsy & Crusade]

Found unconscious in his home alone after a distress call he phoned in himself. Increase in heart rate, blood pressure and metabolism. Possible seizure. Rapid breathing, tremors and loss of coordination. Symptoms of a drug overdose of what kind well, it's too much to determine. Looked like he ingested an assortment of pills and tablets. The traces of white in his nostrils implied cocaine. Needed to be pumped. This guy was lucky as hell to still be alive when we got there, I tell ya. Hopefully, he's fortunate enough to live through this. Delilah Haswell recalled what the paramedic who brought Jerry Brockers into St. Xavier's narrated whilst attending to the sedated, unconscious man. The bustle of activity that had ensconced them earlier had subsided after transporting the patient back to his home by order of his manager. It was a curious case, she admitted, though she had no right to question it. From what she gathered in this turn of events, she needn't answers anyhow. It was crystal clear even without an orientation from the hospital. Kronos didn't want to have their upcoming fledgling, Jerry Brockers, caught in a scandalous admittance in a hospital due to a drug overdose, nor did they wish to be desecrated by the media if they ever found out about it. Such was the reason why Delilah found herself in Jerry Brocker's abode as his private nurse, ridding the oxygen mask from the patient after the tubes that had been attached to him to purge the toxic substance out of his system were removed. Witnessing cases like this always disheartened her, knowing that someone chose to end their own life in this method. What was even more dolorous was the fact that he was put on house arrest until his recovery just to fortify the reputation of his publishers. How they could be so cavalier about a human's life vexed her so. Doesn't he look familiar? Lewis Tarley, a young stalwart nursing aide who resembled an eager puppy once elated, quirked up beside her as she wholly managed to stabilize him, now only doing rounds to make sure Jerry was recovering. He had assisted her throughout the transfer from the hospital to his home, redressing the patient from the hospital gown to his clothes whilst she conversed with the manager. No, not really. Delilah replied with a shake of her head to support her little, white lie, plucking the clipboard which enclosed his data. Technically, she hadn't recognized Jerry at all so it was hardly a fib. Perhaps that could be accounted to the fact that she wasn't exactly up to date with the news in regards to the literary industry. Thus why, if he was actually a renowned author who was featured on television, she would still completely be oblivious. Seriously? He reiterated, intently scrutinizing the bearded man prone before them. I swear I've seen his face somewhere. I doubt it Her words were interrupted as Lewis clapped and gasped, awaiting a eureka that, unfortunately, did not arrive much to her dismay. He's that Jerry Brockers! He exclaimed, a triumphant grin apparent on his face. He was that bestselling author! Took the industry by a storm with that book about a crippled man. As if to make sure Lewis's statements were accurate, Delilah glanced down at the clipboard. Maybe, maybe not, she shrugged nonchalantly as she slipped the board on the foot of the bed, performing minor adjustments on the patient as she glanced at her watch. He's just a normal patient to us for now. Anyway, don't worry about it. Go on home and enjoy your weekend. I can take it from here. I've to make lunch for him before the anesthesia wears out. At this, she ushered the aide out and left the room as well, heading down to the kitchen to collect a meal for her charge after consuming a brunch herself. Something she missed quite often in periods like this. She took this solitary hour to write on her journal whilst partaking on a chicken sandwich and fruit salad she brought on the way to the cabin. October 3 Day 1, 1104 AM I've never been a private nurse before, but I am now to Jerry Brockers, in an isolated cabin in the outskirts of Oregon nonetheless. He's a writer, I think, who tried to OD himself with drugs, but ended up changing his mind and calling for help. It's a good thing it wasn't too late. Here's to hoping I won't crack under pressure of being alone. Strolling back to Jerry's room with a meal tray in her hands, her features lit up to see her charge awake. Inhumed as he was in his bed, Jerry was undoubtedly a piteous sight to behold, likening him to someone who had lost everything he valued and loved in the blink of an eye. She did not show this emotion on her face, however, opting to school her attributes into one of amicability instead as she approached him and pulled out a table to set the tray on. Good morning, Jerry, she greeted him, standing by his bed side to observe him properly as she offered a glass of water. I'm Delilah Haswell, a nurse assigned to you to oversee your recovery. You were admitted in St. Xavier's two days ago before you were transferred back here when your manager requested it. You were quite a mess when you first went in. You're okay now, though, hopefully. How are you feeling?