You’ll need stitches, Ms. Shelton. You won’t be able to
wash your hair for a couple-few days, I’m afraid. The wound shouldn’t get wet.”
“I have blood in my hair,” she protested. The thought
nauseated her. No way would the blood stay there if she could help it. “How am
I supposed to clean that out if I can’t wash my hair?”
“Cover the bandage with plastic,” Jared suggested. “I had to
do that a few years back when I sliced my chin open.”
“It’s best to keep them completely dry,” the doctor said
firmly. “However, I certainly can understand why you’d want to clean up a bit.
I’m sure you can figure out something, or your boyfriend here can help you.”
“I’m her boss,” Jared corrected.
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Cassidy snapped at the same time.
Though part of her wished he was at least her friend. Boyfriend sounded pretty
good too.
The doctor looked amused. “So sorry. Ms. Shelton, any other
injuries?”
“Probably a few scrapes and bruises, and my neck’s a little
sore since they made me lie on that spade until the ambulance arrived,” she
muttered.
He was the doctor. He should have been able to figure out if
she had any other injuries without asking stupid questions. She didn’t know
whether her irritability came from dealing with him or the pain, but either
way, she just wanted the guy to leave now.
“Can you move your neck all right now?” he asked, pressing
his fingers against the sides of her neck.
Yep, he definitely needed to work on his observation skills.
They hadn’t unstrapped her from the stretcher yet, for crying out loud.
“I might be able to if someone unfastened the restraints,”
she said through gritted teeth.
“Good point.” He didn’t even seem to notice her annoyance.
“I’ll send in the EMTs to do that. They need their stretcher back anyway. We’ll
move you onto the bed in a moment.” He left the cubicle.
“I wish we’d been closer to the city,” Jared said,
frustration filling his voice. “Honestly, I’m not sure you’ll have good care
here. You have a head injury. Shouldn’t they be checking for a fracture or
running an MRI or something?”
“I’m fine. It’s just a cut.” She didn’t want to hear any
more about tests or things the doctor should check. She just wanted to have the
stitches put in so she could leave.
Which eventually happened. She tried not to show her
impatience, even though the doctor and nurse kept wandering in and out without
seeming to do much. From the conversations she overheard, she knew they had no
other patients. She didn’t understand why they took so long to patch her up and
send her on her way.
Finally, the doctor put in a line of stitches, gave her some
acetaminophen with codeine and pronounced her fit to leave. He repeated his
instructions to avoid getting her bandage wet and told her to see her own
doctor in about a week to have the sutures removed. Then, after a stretch of
time so interminable she had no idea how long it had truly lasted, he allowed
her to leave the hospital.
Jared supported her as she walked from the exam room. As
they left the building, her stomach growled loudly. He chuckled and guided her
to the parking lot, where she took a deep breath of fresh air to rid her nose
and lungs of the hospital chemical residue. The exhale came out as a quiet sob,
and she pressed her hands against her eyes to make sure she wouldn’t start to
cry. That was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him. If she hadn’t
cried lying on the ground at the planting site, despite the pain and horrific
embarrassment of having fallen in front of him, she definitely had no reason to
now.
“Are you okay?” Jared asked, sounding worried.
“I hate hospitals,” she muttered. “Don’t ever bring me to
one again. Let me die.”
He put a comforting arm around her back. His body heat
centered her, taking away her near panic. She was safely out of the hospital
now, with only a cut and some
wash your hair for a couple-few days, I’m afraid. The wound shouldn’t get wet.”
“I have blood in my hair,” she protested. The thought
nauseated her. No way would the blood stay there if she could help it. “How am
I supposed to clean that out if I can’t wash my hair?”
“Cover the bandage with plastic,” Jared suggested. “I had to
do that a few years back when I sliced my chin open.”
“It’s best to keep them completely dry,” the doctor said
firmly. “However, I certainly can understand why you’d want to clean up a bit.
I’m sure you can figure out something, or your boyfriend here can help you.”
“I’m her boss,” Jared corrected.
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Cassidy snapped at the same time.
Though part of her wished he was at least her friend. Boyfriend sounded pretty
good too.
The doctor looked amused. “So sorry. Ms. Shelton, any other
injuries?”
“Probably a few scrapes and bruises, and my neck’s a little
sore since they made me lie on that spade until the ambulance arrived,” she
muttered.
He was the doctor. He should have been able to figure out if
she had any other injuries without asking stupid questions. She didn’t know
whether her irritability came from dealing with him or the pain, but either
way, she just wanted the guy to leave now.
“Can you move your neck all right now?” he asked, pressing
his fingers against the sides of her neck.
Yep, he definitely needed to work on his observation skills.
They hadn’t unstrapped her from the stretcher yet, for crying out loud.
“I might be able to if someone unfastened the restraints,”
she said through gritted teeth.
“Good point.” He didn’t even seem to notice her annoyance.
“I’ll send in the EMTs to do that. They need their stretcher back anyway. We’ll
move you onto the bed in a moment.” He left the cubicle.
“I wish we’d been closer to the city,” Jared said,
frustration filling his voice. “Honestly, I’m not sure you’ll have good care
here. You have a head injury. Shouldn’t they be checking for a fracture or
running an MRI or something?”
“I’m fine. It’s just a cut.” She didn’t want to hear any
more about tests or things the doctor should check. She just wanted to have the
stitches put in so she could leave.
Which eventually happened. She tried not to show her
impatience, even though the doctor and nurse kept wandering in and out without
seeming to do much. From the conversations she overheard, she knew they had no
other patients. She didn’t understand why they took so long to patch her up and
send her on her way.
Finally, the doctor put in a line of stitches, gave her some
acetaminophen with codeine and pronounced her fit to leave. He repeated his
instructions to avoid getting her bandage wet and told her to see her own
doctor in about a week to have the sutures removed. Then, after a stretch of
time so interminable she had no idea how long it had truly lasted, he allowed
her to leave the hospital.
Jared supported her as she walked from the exam room. As
they left the building, her stomach growled loudly. He chuckled and guided her
to the parking lot, where she took a deep breath of fresh air to rid her nose
and lungs of the hospital chemical residue. The exhale came out as a quiet sob,
and she pressed her hands against her eyes to make sure she wouldn’t start to
cry. That was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him. If she hadn’t
cried lying on the ground at the planting site, despite the pain and horrific
embarrassment of having fallen in front of him, she definitely had no reason to
now.
“Are you okay?” Jared asked, sounding worried.
“I hate hospitals,” she muttered. “Don’t ever bring me to
one again. Let me die.”
He put a comforting arm around her back. His body heat
centered her, taking away her near panic. She was safely out of the hospital
now, with only a cut and some
Similar Books
