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The first week of recovery was tough on Bette. After coming back home from Mexico, she had slept two days straight, only waking up to take medicine. Tina had been by her side all the time, worrying about her sleeping that much, even though the doctor had said that it was normal for a person with concussion.
Following those two days Bette had begun to feel nauseous. Since she practically hadn’t eaten anything, her body had been convulsing in torturous dry heaves until there was nothing left but pain and unwillingness to live. Eventually she would collapse into Tina’s hold, lacking even the strength to weep, unlike Tina, who had sobbed there on the bathroom floor while holding her, crushed to see the love of her life in such pain.
The burning, cutting ache in chest had haunted Bette each time she took breath or coughed. The cough had become violent and produced blood in the sputum. Frightened by the blood, Tina had desperately tried to persuade Bette to go to the hospital and receive thorough treatment, but to no avail. The brunette had been adamant about staying home. There had been nothing else for Tina but to accept the situation.
During the second week Bette’s health had started to show first signs of improvement. Her appetite had heightened a little, the constant feeling of fatigue had decreased. Headache and chest pains had still bothered her, but to a lesser extent. The cough had subsided slightly, there had been no blood anymore. Her forearm burn had been healing slowly, but efficiently, with Tina putting various ointments and lotions on the burned area.
”You’re healing rather quickly,” the doctor had said once. ”Now you have to focus more on stabilization of your mental health. Try to keep positive, do not allow yourself to fall into depression as it’s common for patients who experienced a life-threatening event. Take sedatives to prevent insomnia. Go for a walk in the fresh air regularly. Rest a lot. Also, support from family and friends is highly necessary,” the man had declared before looking at Tina, punctuating his words with an emphatic nod and a smile.
Though on the third week of the recovery Bette had noticed that Tina was becoming more and more emotionally detached and withdrawn. Any physical or verbal affection from her side had declined in frequency. When Bette approached to hug her from behind when she was cooking, Tina had showed no reaction as she was used to. When Bette wanted to cuddle in bed, Tina had made excuses. There had been no playing around anymore, humour had become rare. When Bette tried to talk about it, Tina had claimed that nothing was wrong, turning temporarily lovey-dovey only to become distant over again.