Encouragement (Story) (Patreon)

Sorry I've been quiet this month. I've working on a post about magic systems that will be up by Sunday. In the mean time, the pandemic has been on my mind, so this month's story is about current events in a world with uplifted animals. I have been wondered what  a dog would be going though working in a hospital as a social worker, so without further adieu... Encouragement.

The name on the tag says Abigail. It doesn’t say how old she is, but it looks like she’s in her thirties. The nurse didn’t tell me anything about her, but that she was my next stop. She’s laying on the hospital bed with her eyes closed and a ventilator hooked up. The ones with the ventilators are always the worst. She should be in a room by herself, but there isn’t space. Instead, she’s out in the hall, waiting for a proper hospital bed. I don’t stop to think what the odds of her getting one are. Right now, more people are coming in than we’re discharging.

Abigail has her eyes closed and her pale skin doesn’t look good. She’s struggling to win the battle. I take a deep breath in my mask, and will my ears to be up. I let my tail get a little wag in it. The antiseptic smell is so overpowering everywhere I go, I hardly notice scents anymore, but I swear I still get a slight whiff of Abigail, even through the mask. Maybe I’m imagining it.

Ready to proceed, I walk over to her bedside. “Hey,” I say, loud enough that she should be able to hear me. I don’t know if she’s awake.

Her eyes flutter open and she blinks. The mask on her face impedes some of her vision, but she can see me. 

“How you doing?” I ask.

Her eyes flick down and she takes a labored breath. She reaches out toward me with one hand, and I take her hand in my left paw, gently holding it in the glove. The head nurse and I talked about this, and I know I’m taking a risk by just touching her, but Abigail looks like she needs all the help I can give her. It’s not just the humans who are at risk of catching this. Every day I’m here, I could be exposed to the virus, but the people here need me, and I want to help.

Abigail squeezes weakly, and I wait to see what she’ll do. I make a mental note that I’m going to need to get a new glove when I’m done with her. Making visits like this is a little easier when I can touch the people I see, but I can’t right now. I need to take precautions like everyone else.

“Yeah, I know it’s rough, but the nurses and doctors are doing everything they can.”

She lifts the other hand and points to the badge hanging off my pocket, or at least I think that’s what she’s pointing out. Maybe it’s the fact there is a large husky on two legs in scrubs standing over her wearing a face shield. Not many of the uplifted have advanced degrees yet, so you don’t expect to see us in a setting like this.

“I’m a social worker. I’m here to check on you.” That’s what my master’s degree is in, although at times like this, I seem to be more a therapy dog. I guess I’m whatever they need me to be.

She nods a little and I squeeze her hand with both of my paws. I realize now I’m going to need to change both my gloves, but I think she needs this.

“You just need to keep fighting for us, and they’re going to get you out of here,. okay? You can do that, can’t you?’

She nods.

“Good. I want to see you get out of here. You keep fighting this horrible thing and you’ll beat this.” 

She takes a ragged breath and nods.

“Cool. I’ve got to make some other visits, but I’ll be back this afternoon.” I gently let go of her hand, and she takes it back. I straighten up, give the best energetic dog smile I can, wearing all this protective gear, and then walk over to the next bed. My mental note flashes back and I swing over to the station to get a new set of gloves. I probably go through more protective gear than anyone else on the floor, but that’s the price I pay for being there for these people.

Two, three, four, five… I lose track of them all that morning. There are so many of them, and it’s just me making the rounds, ducking in and out of the nurses trying to do what I can. With a few I’ve held their hands as they gasped their last breaths. Thankfully no one I see today is at that stage, but a few people don’t respond when I visit them. One of them I see later being wheeled away toward the morgue as I’m finishing my rounds on that floor. I visit two more floors that morning before I’m done.

Afterward, it’s a scrub down and then a quick report detailing my rounds for the morning before I can break for lunch. Once I’ve eaten, it’s time to scrub back up so I can do another set of visits, but not before one of the nurses takes and logs my temperature. It’s still normal, so they send me out to gear up. Then it’s time for the afternoon rounds.

Abigail isn’t there when I come by in the afternoon, but it’s because they’ve finally got her a room and been able to move her out of the hallway.

“You’re doing good,” I say when I find her again, in a room down the hall from where she was.

She looks at me as if she wants to say something, but the ventilator keeps her from talking. I smile, give her as much upbeat energy as I can muster and then move down the hall to the next patient.

This pandemic isn’t over yet, but as long as I can keep working, I will.