I probably should’ve looked at the name of the patient because when I pulled the curtain back and saw Ariana sitting with a guilty-looking Archer, my eyebrows almost hit my hairline. Well, not really because that would be freaking weird, but they raised higher than normal.
Even though she was sitting on the bed, I automatically looked at Archer, scanning his body for evidence of an injury. That would be typical for this family, so it was just instinctual. Not seeing anything, I turned back to Ari and noticed the bulge on her chest under her t-shirt.
Not long ago, she’d fallen and grazed herself in the parking lot, and I’d freaked out. My rational doctor’s brain said she was okay and that I knew what to do, but the fact it was Ariana almost overrode that.
Clearing my throat, I glanced back down at the chart as I closed the distance between us.
It didn’t even occur to me to say hi or offer a standard pleasantry. Putting a pair of gloves on, I gently lifted her t-shirt to uncover the area where the bulge was and asked, “What happened, baby?”
Leaning to her left to look around my body, she shot her brother an evil look. “I was minding my own business when this asshole scared the shit out of me, and I dropped a cup of chamomile tea.”
Lifting the dishtowel covered bag of ice, I winced when I saw how red the skin was under it.
“Have you taken anything for the pain?” I asked, checking her paperwork to see if we’d given her anything here.
“Tylenol and Motrin,” she mumbled. “It’s all I had.”
“It’s late and your light was on. I was just being nice and checking to make sure you were okay,” Archer clipped. “And I’ll say—for the millionth time—I’m fucking sorry, all right?”
A disbelieving laugh huffed out of her. “The millionth time? You said it once in the car on the way here.”
“It was an accident,” he growled. “Accidents happen, Na-Na.”
Seeing she was about to answer back and knowing how heated this family could get, I shifted my body to cut off their line of sight to each other.
“I’m going to need you to take your top off, Ari. I need to see the whole area, and it’s blocking it.”
The blush on her face deepened, and Archer quickly announced, “That’s my invitation to leave, then. I’ll be outside.”
“Shit for brains,” Ari snapped, trying to see around me to glare at him.
“At least I’ve got a brain,” he replied, the sound of the curtain being pulled back into place following him.
I think she would have said something else, but she twisted her upper torso and groaned when it moved the injured skin on her chest.
“Okay, let’s have a look. Do you need a hand?”
I could see that she wanted to say no, but instead she sighed. “Yeah. If I raise my arms, it hurts the skin, and I really don’t want to take the ice off the area. I did it to put this on to come here, and it feels like I’ve got a barbeque going on.”
“You hold onto the ice then, and I’ll deal with this,” I said, starting to lift the t-shirt.
Carefully, we managed to remove one arm, and then the other, until I held the garment in my hand. Placing it on the chair Archer had recently vacated, I picked up the control that adjusted the bed and raised the head of it so she could lie back comfortably.
“Lie back. It’ll be more comfortable for you.”
With a groan, she lifted her feet onto the bed and did as I’d asked. After shifting around for a moment, she found a comfortable position.
“I just want to state for the record that this wasn’t my fault,” she sighed, glaring up at the ceiling tiles now.
“Accidents happen,” I murmured, lifting the ice pack and examining the area. “You did the right thing putting the ice on it,” I assured her. “There’s slight blistering, but the area is definitely swollen and red.”
“What does that mean?”
Placing the ice pack back onto her chest, I battled again with my doctor's side and ‘this is Ariana’ side. The overprotective side wanted to keep her in the hospital with me to watch her and make sure she was okay. The rational side of me knew she could go home.
Damn, this fucking sucked.
“The nurse who saw you when you came in put a note on your record for a second-degree burn. The ice pack stopped it being worse, but you’re going to have to continue with it for a while because you’ve got a superficial partial-thickness burn—”
The expression on her face went from confused to horrified. “A what?”
“It’s a second-degree burn,” I repeated. “And you’re lucky it’s only on one part of your chest and not…” I stopped and pointed at her breasts.