Middlesbrough Miracle
"Nurse practitioner Adaeze makes house calls across Middlesbrough—but the thick Ghanaian patient recovering from surgery needs care that insurance definitely doesn't cover."
The recovery was taking too long.
Not medically—Afua was healing perfectly. But she kept calling for visits.
"I have other patients," Adaeze said.
"But they're not me." Afua's thick body shifted under the sheets. "I need special attention."
"You need rest."
"I need you."
The boundaries blurred gradually.
Longer visits. More personal questions. Touches that lingered during examinations.
"Your heart rate is elevated," Adaeze observed.
"Only when you're here."
"That's significant."
"Very."
The recovery ended officially.
Afua was cleared. No more visits required.
"Then this isn't professional anymore," she said. "So can I ask you to stay?"
"Stay for what?"
"For everything you couldn't give me as a patient."
In the bedroom that had been a sickroom, they healed different wounds.
Afua's thick body was fully recovered, fully responsive.
"I'm glad I got ill," she admitted.
"That's concerning."
"Not the illness. Finding you."
Middlesbrough's best nurse practitioner gained a partner.
Not on paper. But in every way that mattered.
"Best patient I ever had," Adaeze would say.
"Best treatment I ever received," Afua agreed.
Some recoveries, they learned, took a lifetime.
And that was exactly right.