Unlike the other hospital staff, the male cyclist nurse seemed to sense how scared I was. He’d constantly check in to see how I was, telling I was doing OK and there weren’t any danger signs. He chatted to me about normal things like jobs and hobbies. I confessed that I was a bit dissatisfied with my job. He said he loved his, which didn’t surprise me at all. When he left the room, I would jokingly refer to him as ‘MY nurse’ to my friend.
In the weeks after leaving the hospital, I sometimes thought about that nurse. This particular fantasy saw him somehow getting my number and coming over to stroke my hair, rearrange the pillows and bring food. I vaguely contemplated whether love could be based on one person being extremely attractive and caring, even if you had little in common. But I also couldn’t help imagining the cracks that would appear once the crisis was over.
At the hospital, the X-ray showed no spinal injury or elbow fracture (I couldn’t bend my arm), and they weren’t too worried about my head either. I was sent home with a fact sheet on head injury, a print-out from the Victorian Government Better Health Channel, and instructions not to stay alone that night. That was all they told me about what to expect. I was to run into my nurse friend again in a few weeks, under slightly embarrassing circumstances.
Finnish Whaler 
Well I guess we long for love and caring when we are vulnerable.That must be the nature of human being cause I still remember the smile of an angel face after a surgery about 12 years ago.
Yes, my primary desires in the two months after my accident where a) to have my hair stroked and b) to be immersed in warm water.