said again. His facial
expression told Neal that he knew it was a lie, but that he didn’t
really care. “The reason I’m asking is that you’ll need to stay off
your foot for a few days. There’s already considerable swelling,
and I have a feeling it’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Neal only nodded, sorry that he had lied.
But the thought of telling this young and successful doctor that he
was nothing but a lowly flower delivery boy was too much for his
ego to bear. Some day he would be a doctor—or something equally
impressive—too.
“So, it won’t be a problem?” the doctor
said.
Neal was so lost in his own thoughts he had
forgotten the flow of the conversation. “What won’t be a
problem?”
“Staying off your foot.”
A typical day of driving the Snell delivery
van flashed through Neal’s mind—all the trips in and out of high
rise apartment buildings, up and down stairs, across huge parking
lots...
“It won’t be a problem,” Neal lied.
“Good.” The doctor began to explain how to
clean the wound, change the bandage, and so on, but Neal only
half-listened. He was worrying about how he would get through the
next few days without the Snells discovering that he was
practically disabled. If they knew, they wouldn’t let him drive the
van—he would have to take time off without pay. If he tried to take
sick time so soon after being hired, he would probably lose his
job. Of course, losing the job at Snell’s wouldn’t be anything to
cry over, but at least he got paid. And God knew he and Annie
needed the money.
“Also,” the doctor said, after he had
finished explaining the procedures, “I should warn you, there is a
good chance you could develop an infection.”
“Infection?” Neal said, suddenly attentive
again.
“Yes. Puncture wounds like this are
particularly infection-prone. We don’t know what kind of foreign
matter might have been on the end of that trophy you stepped on,
bacteria or whatever. You’ve had a recent tetanus shot, so I’m not
worried about that. But you could develop some other infection. If
your foot really starts to swell or turns red or feels hot to the
touch, you need to come back and we’ll put you on some antibiotics.
Also, if you see any red streaks moving up your leg, you need to
come back here immediately. That would indicate a very serious
infection.”
Neal nodded, feeling a little uneasy, and
looked down at his foot. It was already so swollen if felt like he
had a golf ball sown into the bottom of it.
“Can’t you just give me some antibiotics
right now, so an infection won’t even have a chance to get
started?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I can give you
something for the pain, though.” The doctor pulled a prescription
pad out of his white jacket and started writing. “Take a couple of
these every four hours, as long as you need them.”
“Thanks,” Neal said, taking the slip of
paper. “But...”
“But what?”
In Neal’s mind, he could still clearly see
the sharp, rusty metal that had punctured his foot. “I still think
I better take some antibiotics right now, before any infection even
has a chance to start. Don’t you?”
The young physician smiled. “Sorry, but
that’s not how we practice medicine these days. We don’t give
antibiotics until the symptoms of the infection appear and are
diagnosed. Unless, of course, the patient is particularly
susceptible to infection, for some reason.” He picked up Neal’s
chart and looked it over. “You didn’t list anything of that
nature.”
“No,” Neal said. “I’m healthy. As far as I
know, anyway.” He remembered snide remark Annie had started to make
about taking him to “another” kind of hospital.
“Good,” the doctor said. “Then I’m sure you
won’t have a problem.”
C HAPTER 5
It was almost dawn when the fledgling Family
Becker got home from the hospital. Annie went to sleep almost as
soon as her head hit the pillow. Natasha had been
expression told Neal that he knew it was a lie, but that he didn’t
really care. “The reason I’m asking is that you’ll need to stay off
your foot for a few days. There’s already considerable swelling,
and I have a feeling it’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Neal only nodded, sorry that he had lied.
But the thought of telling this young and successful doctor that he
was nothing but a lowly flower delivery boy was too much for his
ego to bear. Some day he would be a doctor—or something equally
impressive—too.
“So, it won’t be a problem?” the doctor
said.
Neal was so lost in his own thoughts he had
forgotten the flow of the conversation. “What won’t be a
problem?”
“Staying off your foot.”
A typical day of driving the Snell delivery
van flashed through Neal’s mind—all the trips in and out of high
rise apartment buildings, up and down stairs, across huge parking
lots...
“It won’t be a problem,” Neal lied.
“Good.” The doctor began to explain how to
clean the wound, change the bandage, and so on, but Neal only
half-listened. He was worrying about how he would get through the
next few days without the Snells discovering that he was
practically disabled. If they knew, they wouldn’t let him drive the
van—he would have to take time off without pay. If he tried to take
sick time so soon after being hired, he would probably lose his
job. Of course, losing the job at Snell’s wouldn’t be anything to
cry over, but at least he got paid. And God knew he and Annie
needed the money.
“Also,” the doctor said, after he had
finished explaining the procedures, “I should warn you, there is a
good chance you could develop an infection.”
“Infection?” Neal said, suddenly attentive
again.
“Yes. Puncture wounds like this are
particularly infection-prone. We don’t know what kind of foreign
matter might have been on the end of that trophy you stepped on,
bacteria or whatever. You’ve had a recent tetanus shot, so I’m not
worried about that. But you could develop some other infection. If
your foot really starts to swell or turns red or feels hot to the
touch, you need to come back and we’ll put you on some antibiotics.
Also, if you see any red streaks moving up your leg, you need to
come back here immediately. That would indicate a very serious
infection.”
Neal nodded, feeling a little uneasy, and
looked down at his foot. It was already so swollen if felt like he
had a golf ball sown into the bottom of it.
“Can’t you just give me some antibiotics
right now, so an infection won’t even have a chance to get
started?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I can give you
something for the pain, though.” The doctor pulled a prescription
pad out of his white jacket and started writing. “Take a couple of
these every four hours, as long as you need them.”
“Thanks,” Neal said, taking the slip of
paper. “But...”
“But what?”
In Neal’s mind, he could still clearly see
the sharp, rusty metal that had punctured his foot. “I still think
I better take some antibiotics right now, before any infection even
has a chance to start. Don’t you?”
The young physician smiled. “Sorry, but
that’s not how we practice medicine these days. We don’t give
antibiotics until the symptoms of the infection appear and are
diagnosed. Unless, of course, the patient is particularly
susceptible to infection, for some reason.” He picked up Neal’s
chart and looked it over. “You didn’t list anything of that
nature.”
“No,” Neal said. “I’m healthy. As far as I
know, anyway.” He remembered snide remark Annie had started to make
about taking him to “another” kind of hospital.
“Good,” the doctor said. “Then I’m sure you
won’t have a problem.”
C HAPTER 5
It was almost dawn when the fledgling Family
Becker got home from the hospital. Annie went to sleep almost as
soon as her head hit the pillow. Natasha had been
Similar Books
