The Virus - Part Twenty-Five (Wishing's birthday part :D) added 24 March 2012.

[Stimuli]

Heavy & deep, really a great contrast, as always; awesome (The story of course, not that someone died haha)

[Kiwifruit]

@ichixshiro14 - university is good at that! I hope this part is less sad for you

@TheTastyGuy - why thank you I'm glad you're enjoying it! I don't want toooo much heavy and dark, so now it's time for a little more pr0n...

Annndddd this part is Wishing's birthday part Happy birthday, Wishing! I hope you like this, it's a little rushed, but I wanted to get it up on time for you ;P Enjoy your day!!!

Part Twenty-Five

Nurse Leisel frowned at the thermometer – nearly 40C. The temperature of a young man, comatose after being knocked off his bike, had been up for nearly 48 hours. Cold packs and fans had brought it down a little, but not a lot, and now it was rising again. While a cold or flu would be a relatively simple affair in normal circumstances, the substantial head trauma her patient had sustained during the accident made any additional stresses dangerous.

Leisel scrawled a note in the patient’s file, before continuing on her rounds. Part way to the supply station for fetching a change of dressing, she was stopped by a worried looking visitor.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the middle aged woman began, “But my daughter’s not feeling well, she has a bad cough and her chest hurts, could you...?”

Leisel promised to see her next.

After changing the patient’s dressing, she hurried to the room the unwell girl was in, checking the door quickly for her name – Marilyn.

A pale young woman, 23 years old according to her chart, was huddled under the blankets. As Leisel approached, she buried her face in the blankets and coughed – a deep, rattling cough. Leisel frowned and reached for the ear thermometer she still had on her from the earlier patient.

“You don’t sound good, do you? When did your symptoms start?”

“I had a sore throat last night...this morning my nose is running, my chest hurts and I ache all over.”

The thermometer beeped.

“You have a fever of 39.4.” Leisel wrote down the reading in the patient’s file. “Do you know if you’re meant to see the doctor today?”

“No, I’m going home this morning.”

“Hmm...I think that may be postponed. I’ll get the doctor to come take a look at you.”

“Isshhew!”

Leisel glanced over to the bed across the room, where a middle-aged woman was sniffling and dabbing at her nose with a tissue. The pile of tissues on the table next to her and strewn over the sheets indicated that sneeze was only the latest of many that morning.

“Uh, excuse me...” Leisel flicked a glance at the chart attached to the foot of the bed, “Deborah? How are you feeling?”

“How’s it look like I’m feeling?” The woman chuckled and gave her nose another wipe with the tissue. “Just a little cold, I’m sure, but my goodness it hit me fast.”

“I’ll just check your temperature.” Leisel again pulled out the thermometer and held it over the patient’s forehead. It beeped – 37.8C. The patient shrugged at the result.

“Oh, nothing to worry about, like I said. I feel fine. It’s just a small cold.”

“All the same, I’ll get the doctor to talk to you while he’s here.” Leisel wasn’t terribly worried – it was winter. Patients with colds were almost more common than without. Still, procedure demanded the doctor be informed.

“Eh-ishHEW!” Deborah sneezed again, then heartily blew her nose. “Would you get me a new box of tissues please?”

Leisel agreed and hurried off to fetch them. In the hall, she encountered one of the young house residents on duty.

“Oh, when you have a moment, could you take a look at the patients in room 823? One seems like she just has a cold, but the other may be ‘flu.”

“More of them?” The doctor laughed disbelievingly. “Half the ward seems to have come down with respiratory infections overnight. One of the nurses on the last couple of days called in with the ‘flu this morning. Bet that’s where it came from.” He shook his head.

* * *

Dr Hammond hated being on duty at the hospital community clinic. As a Senior Registrar, he was usually responsible for supervising the more junior staff and attending to patients in serious condition, but when there were staff shortages – which happened with more frequency these days – he was expected to assist with patient admissions in the clinic.

Before he went to call in the next patient, Dr Hammond rubbed lotion into his hands. They were becoming chapped from washing so much. While the hospital had posted notices reminding staff to wash hands between every patient, time restraints meant not many of the doctors actually complied unless the patient was obviously suffering from a contagious illness. This morning, nearly every patient seemed to have severe upper respiratory tract infections. While it cost him a minute between each patient to thoroughly wash his hands – which built up quickly when each patient was allocated ten minutes of time – he was reluctant to increase the risk of getting influenza himself and bringing it home to his two young children. He had had his vaccine, but it only covered three strains, and there would be many others circulating in the community.

The next patient, a young man barely out of his teens, came in sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“It’s my head,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead and wincing to demonstrate. “It’s so sore. My face feels like it’s going to crack.”

“You have a cold?” It was more a statement that a question – the man’s red, twitching nostrils and constant sniffling spoke for themselves.

“Yes, I’ve had one for the last couple days, big pain in the arse is what it is, what with my mid-semester exams next week, I –”

Dr Hammond cut him off to ask a few more questions about his symptoms and medical history, before writing a prescription for antibiotics for a sinus infection.

The young man reached for it. “Tha...thank...”

Dr Hammond saw it coming almost in slow motion – the man’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared and he let out an enormous sneeze. Dr Hammond felt the cool mist settling on his exposed wrist and hand, flinching involuntarily in disgust.

The young man stammered out apologies. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean to, it’s just my nose itches all the time, I can never tell when a real sneeze is coming because it always feels like a sneeze is coming, I’m so sorry – ”

Dr Hammond laughed it off, saw out the patient and scrubbed his hands until they burned. It wasn’t the first time he had been sneezed on – blood, mucus, saliva, vomit and diarrhea were all bodily fluids he had come into contact with in the course of work. While it made him less sick to his stomach now, he still felt contaminated each time until he could get home and thoroughly shower.

Just as he was headed for the door to call the next patient, his computer blipped three times – an urgent email had come in. He sat down to quickly read it.

Dr Hammond read through, frowning in surprise and growing more apprehensive the more he read. The hospital had recently been notified there was a severe, very virulent illness in the community that was likely a form of influenza, though that had yet to be confirmed. All patients presenting with respiratory symptoms were to receive nasal swabs to be sent off for testing and advised to isolate themselves at home and to call an emergency number if they were developing a number of symptoms indicating more severe infection. Quarantine measures were to be set up in the hospital. Staff would be kept informed as the situation developed and the hospital received more information.

While notifications of particular illnesses were regularly sent through to him as a Senior Registrar, it was very unusual for notification to be sent out to the entire hospital staff without him hearing anything about it first. Generally, it was though that such notifications were likely to cause panic and do more harm than good. It must be serious if the dean was sending out immediate notification to the entire hospital.

The next patient he called in was wearing a mask – he noticed through the door the reception staff and clinic nurses on duty were in the process of handing them out to those who had respiratory symptoms.

The patient sat down, coughed wetly, and looked at him with watering eyes. “I have the worst ‘flu, doctor...”

[Emily]

LOOOOL

seriously, I love your humor

and your germaphobes

and the way you ended this

[SweaterWeather]

Oh my goodness. Part 25 and it keeps on getting better!! You are such a captivating writer, not only with the steady plot, but your so descriptive. Especially in this last update OMAHGAWD! :3 Keep up the wonderful writing!

[Jorm]

I know I haven't commented on this in a while, but I have been keeping up with reading it, and it's as lovely as ever! I'm such a sucker for contagion sometimes.

[Willowwhip]

This story is really good and deserves to live, but I understand if you’ve lost your passion for it ❤️