In with the New Baby

I release the cuff and place it back.

“So, doc,” he says. “Am I going to live?” he asks and folds his arms across his chest.

“Yes, I believe so,” I say.

I look back down at his chart.

“Good,” he says. “Because I got a road tour coming up.”

“About that,” I say. “I think you could benefit from an MRI.”

“No way,” he says. “I don’t want anything like that.”

“Well,” I begin to say when Anne comes over.

“Lincoln,” she says and places her hands on both of Lincoln’s shoulders.

Lincoln looks at her and listens. I smile to myself, thinking that if anyone can set Lincoln straight, Anne can.

“You know, Anne, how I feel about invasive treatment,” Lincoln says.

“Let Amanda explain your options and then you can decide from there.”

Lincoln looks over at me with a sour look on his face. His crossed arms over his chest just make me more attracted to his strong upper body. I just want to bite into the crook between his neck and shoulder with my teeth.

“Well, Mr. Drake,” I begin. “Given the state of your knee, you have several options.”

“What are they?” he asks and looks over to Anne.

Anne comes over to Lincoln and places her hand on his right shoulder.

“To begin with,” I say, “your joint tendon could be repaired.”

Lincoln scratches his right shoulder with his left hand.

“Done that already.”

“Or, much less invasive, there is the option of artificial cartilage being injected.”

“No,” he says. “That shit is just Teflon.”

“I see,” I say and think, what’s next?

I know he’s just going to reject any suggestion I throw at him, but I have to go through all the other options anyway. It’s just how some patients are.

“There is also the option of the doctor going in and drilling holes in your kneecap to discharge the scar tissue so that the knee heals from behind.”

Lincoln jumps off the table, picks up his t-shirt from the floor, and looks towards the door.

“No fucking way,” he says. He comes up to me with his hands on his hips. “I told you, no fuckin’ surgery!”

He’s in my face, veins bulging, and has a scary, distorted look on his face. Still, I need to be and am the professional.

“Well, perhaps the worst-case scenario that could enable the most optimal movement for you would be a complete knee replacement.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he rages.

I step back and clutch the chart to my chest and bump into the wall.

Anne approaches Lincoln.

“Bud, stop this.”

She places her hands on Lincoln’s shoulders again. Usually this has a calming effect with patients, but not this one. Lincoln throws them off.

“Fuck all of you,” he says, and turns to me. “I told you, no more fucking surgery!”

He slams out the door, pounding in his wake. The rest of the floor is reduced to silence as his ranting fades into the distance.

I take a deep breath, look around the room, and shake my head angrily.

Anne comes over and pulls me to her chest as I ask her what the fuck is wrong with Lincoln?

I have had patients treat me badly before but this one really takes the case.

And the worst part – the part I can’t even confess to Anne – is that I still think Lincoln is so fucking hot.

Chapter 4

Lincoln

I feel like a piece of fucking shit.

Why did I treat that physical therapist like that? Amanda – the hot one. She’d done nothing wrong, but, no, I have to go and be my usual fucking asshole self. And during the holiday season, no less.

I stop at Walmart to get the dog some food, collar, leash and a big bed. He’s a big boy. Looks like a cross of pit bull, shepherd, and husky. Beautiful dog abandoned and alone left to die on its own.

How I identify with him.

It seems like that’s how my life has turned out, without my meaning for it to happen that way.

I leave him in the truck, but on the inside part of it, and I put a blanket on top of him in case he gets cold while I run in. Luckily, it’s winter, so these assholes in Walmart won’t film me and put me on YouTube and shame me for leaving a dog in a truck on a warm day.

Fucking pricks. Mind your own goddamned business, I would tell them, if I could.

It’s not that I’m in favor of animal abuse. It’s just that people get so nosy and over-react and report people for things that aren’t even that big of a deal.

You’d never know it, but I was sent to Catholic school as a kid. My mom worked nights as a waitress after my father came home from working all day, so that we could be educated well.

And I remember how in fourth grade, we used to go to Sr. Francis Bernadette’s class for reading. Everyone feared her, but as we sat down, she gave us her first piece of wisdom.