“Ryan?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. So, no knee pain?”
“He wasn’t complaining of any. His vitals are good. Oxygen is good.”
“You’ll send me the file?”
Sitting up a little taller in my chair, I shifted and turned back to my desk. “I will. Same email address?”
“Yeah.” He responded. I wrote it on a Post-It. I would give the note to the night nurse later.
Then he asked, “Did he tell you to call me? What was he doing up there anyway? He’s not really your type.”
The comment hurt. I pushed the sting back down. “He wasn’t here for me. He was with his brother and sister-in-law.” I didn’t want to stay on the phone with him any longer. My heart hurt. “I’ll have the files sent right away.”
“It’s good to hear from you, Liz.”
I hung up. I leaned back in my chair, my arms hanging over the arm rests. I exhaled. Time to go home.
I changed out of my heels and back into my boots, hung my lab coat on the hanger behind the door, and gathered my coat and purse.
After grabbing the Post-It note for the night nurse, I headed downstairs. The waiting room was tidy. The front entry-way was lit only by the Christmas lights and the parking lot light. A janitor cleaned with a motorized floor scrubber.
The ER was quiet. There had a been a few minor cuts and bruises that had come in during the day from kids rough-housing at the resort, but other than our infamous patient, it had been a calm day.
“Headed home, Dr.Cain?”
“I am. Thank you Curtis,” I said to the night nurse as I handed him the post-it. “Can you please send Mr.Barringer’s file to this e-mail address?”
He extended his hand over the counter to take the yellow paper. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” I jerked my head to Brett’s room. “How is he?”
“He’s good. We ordered him a steak and salad from The Double Musky. Someone should be bringing it by any minute now.”
I nodded. Glancing down at the desk, a signed hockey calendar was open to September. I looked at Curtis and raised my eyebrows.
Curtis smiled. “I’m a big hockey fan, so…” He shrugged.
I grinned. “I’m going to check on him before I leave.”
“Okay. I’ll call and check on his dinner.”
The hallway lights were dimmed. I knocked on his door before entering. “Knock, knock.”
The television was on. He muted it, dropped his feet from the bed, and stood from the hospital chair he’d been reclining in.
“Hey, come on in.” He smoothed the bed sheet and looked around, as if he wanted to make sure everything was tidy.
I put my hands in my coat pocket. “I just came to see how you were feeling.”
He touched his head. “I took the gauze off.”
“I see that. Can you sit so I can look at the stitches?” I gestured to the bed.
He sat obediently.
I stepped in front of him and touched his forehead. “You have some dried blood. Do you want me to send the nurse in to clean it?”