“To be clear, Jess, he doesn’t enjoy your company,” Max said.
Then they all laughed. Every single one of them, including Jody. I felt a stab of pain in my chest, slammed my book shut, and started stuffing my things into my backpack. “Okay, well, since he enjoys yours, I’m going to go.”
Max scoffed. As I raced past him, on my way to the door, he spoke to me. “You’re not better than us,” he said. “You’re not better than a single one of us, so don’t start getting any ideas.”
I didn’t say anything. By the time I got to my car, my eyes were filled with tears.
CHAPTER THREE
2019
I looked down at Jody, who was sitting on the bed, a grimace on his face. He looked like he was in pain. It would’ve been entirely unprofessional to say that I was enjoying it, though it wouldn’t have been untrue. I didn’t need to share that with him.
“Your x-ray came back. You’re fine. I mean, all things considered.”
He swallowed. I thought I could smell the faintest alcohol on his breath. “Good. That’s good.”
I nodded. “You got lucky, you’re not going to need surgery, when in every other situation, you might have. So…”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what it means, Mr. Banks,” I said, trying to sound as patient as possible. “I’m going to take it out, and you might bleed, but I promise you I have that in hand. You already got some medication, right? For pain management.”
He looked up at me, our gazes meeting for just a second. “They gave me some ibuprofen or something.”
“Good. Then this will hurt a little less.”
“How much is it going to hurt?”
“It might just be a bit of pressure, or you might feel like screaming. But it will be temporary, and it will be quick, and I promise you I’m good at this.”
He blinked. He closed his eyes, tilted his head up, and relaxed his shoulders. “I know. I’m not worried about your expertise.”
I smiled, a little too proudly, aware he couldn’t see me.
“Okay,” I said. “Take a deep breath.”
He took a deep breath.
I grabbed the handle of the knife. Teri, the ER nurse, was next to me. She could do this by herself, really, but I had the patient’s trust, and I wanted to get that knife out of him myself. Regardless of what the tests might have said, there were still other things that I needed to worry about, like his tendons and the tissue of his arms.
“Another one,” I said. “I’m going to count to three, and when I do that, I’m going to pull out the knife from your arm. Look away, okay? It might hurt more if you look.”
“Why would it hurt more if I look?”
“Because you’ll see me pulling a knife out of your body,” I said. “That has to hurt.”
“Okay,” he said. He paled a little as he looked away from me, holding his arm to his side slightly.
“Three, two,” I gripped the handle of the knife as tightly as I could. “One.”
I pulled hard away from him. The knife made a sucking sound and then it popped. The pressure must have only lasted for a second, but it was enough for him to instinctively move his hand up to where the knife had once been. He winced a little as he looked at me. I put my hand on his wound and held it there.
“See, it’s not bleeding,” I said. “Pressure is going to help, but there might be some inflammation, and we need to keep you in the hospital for observation for a little while.”
“Great,” he said.
“Look,” I replied. “You got seriously hurt. With a knife, falling on your kitchen floor or whatever, but you still got seriously hurt, and you might get even more hurt if I send you home. Are you going to get more hurt if I send you home?”
He blinked. “I don’t know.”
I looked at Teri, who nodded and left the room. This kind of thing was normally left to the nurses or someone else, but I had a particular interest in him, one which was much more than academic.
He was more than just a patient and I couldn’t put that aside, no matter how much I wanted to.
“I’m going to transfer you to one of our attendings,” I said. “Every doctor who works at this hospital is wonderful, and you’re going to be under the best of care. In the meantime, I’m going to move this cloth away so I can take a closer look at your wound. There is a possibility that you’re going to need stitches.”
“Are you going to be the one to give me stitches or is that also going to be someone else?”
“If you need stitches, I will be the one who gives you stitches,” I said matter-of-factly. “But you might not.”
“What if I don’t want you to transfer my care?”
I looked at his wound. “Why wouldn’t you want me to do that?”
“Because I don’t know any of these doctors,” he said. “I don’t trust any of them.”
“But you trust me,” I said. “Mr. Banks, I assure you that all of my colleagues are highly qualified, and—”
“Can you cut it out with the Mr. Banks bullshit?” he asked, sounding more annoyed than I had expected.
“Sure,” I said as I began to wipe his wound clean. Once again, this was normally not my job, but the ER was very quiet and there was a part of me that was completely relishing this, even though I knew that I shouldn’t. Even though I knew that I should feel bad. “This is going to sting a little, but it’s very important that I do a thorough
