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MidReal Story
The Boy With The Cucumber Nose
Scenario:Nurse Olena Barnes cares for her patient Kenny,a young man in the hospital with a mysterious blood circulation disorder.
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Olena Barnes
She is a compassionate and dedicated nurse working at a hospital. She is nurturing,empathetic,and patient. Olena deeply cares for her patients,especially Kenny,a young man with a rare blood disorder. Her bond with him is strong,and she finds herself drawn to him despite his challenging condition and his family's history. Olena struggles with her feelings,trying to maintain professionalism while feeling a deep emotional connection with her patient.
Dr. Tom Harris
He is an attending physician at the hospital specializing in pediatrics and cardiology. He is professional,supportive,and understanding. Dr. Harris has been caring for Kenny since his admission and works closely with Olena and the medical team. He explains Kenny's condition to Olena and values her input in developing a treatment plan tailored to the young man's needs. His relationship with Olena is respectful and collaborative,focusing on providing the best care possible for Kenny.
Kenny
He is a young patient in the hospital suffering from a rare blood circulation disorder. He is witty,resilient,and charming. Kenny's condition requires constant care,and he has become close to Olena,appreciating her kindness and compassion. He often jokes to lighten the mood and convey his spirits,despite his difficult situation. His family history adds complexity to his story,and he seeks to find a matching bone marrow donor to save his life.
"Olena, how is our patient today?"
Dr. Tom Harris asks.
Kenny is my patient, and I can't help but feel drawn to him every time I see him.
He is so young, yet his spirits remain high.
"I think he is doing better than expected," I answer.
"His vital signs are stable, and he seems to be in less pain."
"That's good to hear," Dr. Harris says.
"I'm glad the medication is working."
"Yes, but we still need to find a matching bone marrow donor for him," I remind the doctor.
"Yes, of course," Dr. Harris agrees.
"I will talk to his family about it tomorrow."
I nod, knowing that finding a bone marrow donor will be difficult.
But I remain hopeful, knowing that there are many kind people in this world who would be willing to save a life.
The next day, I arrive at the hospital early and begin my rounds.
When I reach Kenny's room, I smile as I see him sitting up in his bed with a book in his hands.
"How are you today?"
I ask.
"Better than yesterday," he answers.
"I'm glad to hear that," I say.
"I will take your vitals now."
I take his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse rate, writing them down on his chart.
"Can you sit up for me?" I ask.
He nods and sits up in his bed.
I continue checking his vitals while he watches me with that mischievous glint in his eyes.
The morning sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room.
I record his blood pressure, which has improved slightly since yesterday.
When I wrap the stethoscope around my neck, Kenny shifts in his bed and tugs at his hospital gown, pretending to look uncomfortable.
I know exactly what he's planning before he even opens his mouth.
He's been making these kinds of jokes more frequently lately, testing boundaries with his boyish charm.
I finish recording his vitals in his chart, trying to maintain my professional demeanor.
The morning sunlight catches his face, and I notice that his color is better than yesterday.
That's a good sign.
I place the medical supplies back on the bedside table and turn to leave.
But Kenny continues watching me with that familiar gleam in his eyes.
His fingers drum against the book in his lap, and he shifts in the bed again.
I know he's building up to another quip.
I pretend to be absorbed in my work, but my lips twitch as I anticipate his next comment.
Kenny clears his throat dramatically, making me turn back.
He's sitting up straighter now, one hand concealed behind his back while the other drums a rhythm on his knee.
With an exaggerated flourish, he produces a playing card from behind his back and holds it up between two fingers.
It's the Ace of Spades, its black and white contrasting against the soft colors of the hospital room.
I pause my work, playing along with his game.
He waves the card in front of him, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
The sunlight catches the card, casting a small shadow on the wall.
Kenny's fingers move deftly, performing an elaborate gesture as if he's conjuring magic.
And then, in an instant, the card vanishes from his fingers.
I watch in genuine surprise as he grins at me.
"Check your bra," he says, a triumphant look on his face.
I'm taken aback by his audacity, but curiosity gets the better of me.
I reach into my uniform and feel something unexpected against my skin.
With trembling fingers, I pull out the Ace of Spades.
My face burns hot as I realize what he's done.
It's a magic trick, but it crosses professional boundaries.
Yet, I can't deny that I'm impressed by his sleight of hand.
The card feels cool and smooth against my skin as I examine it.
I try to figure out how he managed this trick, but his smile only widens as he watches my reaction.
I attempt to maintain my professional composure by straightening the bedsheets, but my hands still shake slightly.
When I finally look up to hand the card back to him, Kenny's expression has shifted from playful to something more serious.
My stomach flutters at the intensity in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
The words hang in the air between us, and I stand frozen, unsure of how to respond.
The Ace of Spades trembles in my hand as I try to maintain my professional composure.
Kenny's eyes remain locked on mine, filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination that I've never seen before.
I try to place the card on his bedside table, but before I can, Kenny reaches out and catches my wrist gently.
His touch sends electricity through my arm, and I pull back quickly.
In my haste, I knock over his water glass, spilling its contents onto the floor.
I kneel down to clean up the spill with shaking hands.
As I reach for the fallen glass, Kenny starts to say something else, but before he can finish, Dr. Harris enters the room. "Excuse me," I murmur, hurrying out of the room without looking back.
I lean against the wall beside Kenny's door, pressing my palm flat against the cool surface to ground myself.
The hallway bustles with activity - nurses wheeling medication carts, visitors chatting, monitors beeping - but I barely register any of it.
My uniform still feels warm where the card was hidden, and my wrist tingles where Kenny grabbed me.
I try counting to ten, focusing on each number to slow my breathing, but my mind keeps replaying the intensity in his eyes.
A passing colleague asks if I'm okay.
I nod automatically and push myself off the wall, fumbling to straighten my name badge.
I avoid Kenny's room for the rest of my shift, taking the long route through the pediatric ward to bypass his hallway.
But during evening rounds, I have to pass his window to reach another patient.
As I walk by, trying to appear busy with my charts, I catch a glimpse of Kenny sitting up in bed.
He looks better than he did this morning - his color is back, and he's reading again.
Our eyes meet through the glass, and I feel a jolt of recognition.
He sets down his book and leans forward intently.
My steps falter when he presses his palm flat against the window, mouthing words I can't ignore.
"Don't forget," he mouths, and I know this moment will linger long after I leave.
I grip my clipboard tighter and force myself to keep walking, maintaining eye contact with Kenny through the window.
His palm remains pressed against the glass, leaving a foggy outline that grows and fades with each breath.
The evening hospital lights cast shadows across his face, but I can still see the intensity in his eyes.
Other nurses bustle past me in the corridor, their shoes squeaking against the floor.
I adjust my name badge, take a steadying breath, and give Kenny a single, firm nod.
His shoulders relax visibly at my response.
I turn away, resolute, knowing that tomorrow will bring a new beginning.