He was bouncing.
Not jumping, so much, but certainly bouncing.
With all the children that flooded the ER on a regular basis, Kerry Weaver noted, most of them were sad, scared or abused. This one, however, was the picture of joy. A smile stretched across his freckled face, feet scrabbling about on the rolling bed like he was on a runaway surf board. He was so absorbed in his strange little game that he didn't notice Kerry enter the room until she spoke.
"Hi there," she said, pitching her voice to a kinder, higher octave, the way she usually did with kids.
The boy stopped bouncing.
"Hi, doc," he said, dropping to a sitting position on the cot.
"You're not here all by yourself, are you?" Kerry asked, walking so that she stood beside him.
"My mom's here," he said, "she just went to the bathroom." Kerry studied the room briefly; no blood, no discarded gloves, no sign of struggle. The kid, aside from a slightly grubby appearance, looked fine.
"Is she the patient, or are you?" Kerry asked.
"She is." The chart, which seemed as though it had been hurriedly discarded, was face-down bed. She checked the name; Carter. She made a clucking noise with her tongue, realizing only afterwards that she had done it. It was her private sound, something she did only when moved to, after happening upon something that struck her in a particular way. Carter certainly hadn't prompted it much, certainly not since his battle with Vicodin. It wasn't like him to leave a patient unattended but, keeping recent events in mind, Kerry dismissed his negligence. She would handle it from there.
"Lynn Murray, possible dislocated shoulder," she murmured to herself, running a finger down the list of symptoms, "possible hairline fracture..."
"Yeah," the child piped up, "it like got all twisted out of it's socket and stuff. It was really gross."
He wrinkled his nose. Kerry smiled.
"I'm sure it is."
"She was screaming bloody murder," the kid continued, "and said a lot of bad words."
Kerry smiled again, hanging the chart on the bed.
"How long has she been gone for?" The kid shrugged.
"A couple of minutes," he replied, "they shot her in the arm to stop it from hurting and she said she had to pee and that nobody would let her so--" He was interrupted by a loud throat-clearing noise, towards which they both turned.
"Hi mom!" the kid said brightly, "here's the doc." The woman smiled kindly, wincing slightly as she entered the room. She was carrying her right shoulder oddly and, as the child had reported, it looked badly disfigured. She wasn't a tall person, but her presence made her seem so. It wasn't overpowering; in fact, it was just the opposite. She seemed fresh, like a new book, hair bright black, eyes dark brown. Same freckles as the kid. She would, Kerry knew, be an easy patient.
"Let me take a look at that arm," Kerry said briskly, leading the woman towards the cot. The kid hopped down, perching haphazardly in a nearby chair.
"They're gonna pop your arm back in, mom," he said. The woman grimaced.
"Don't say that!" she wailed, "you know that stuff makes me sick to my stomach. Don't make your poor mom vomit!" The kid grinned, but was silent.
"Someone else came in here before," the woman said, addressing Kerry, "Dr. Carter or something like that. He's so young! A baby!" Kerry smiled, pulling up the woman's sleeve to examine the arm.
"I remember when he first started," she mused, feeling along the bicep and shoulder, "he really was a baby then."
"Makes me feel ancient," said the woman, "all these Doogie Howsers running around, calling orders, waving needles... I'm not ready for that... But I guess I've got a few more good years left in me."
"Mom," the kid cut in, "you're not old."
"Thanks, hon," she replied, then turned back to Kerry.
"He's just being sweet, Doctor," she explained, "Doctor... Doctor what, if I may ask?"
"Weaver," Kerry replied; she was nearing the forearm, going as slowly as she could as not to aggravate the injury.
"Doctor Weaver," the woman repeated, "Lynn Murray but please, Lynn. That other doc insisted on Mrs. Murray; made me feel like my mother." Kerry hummed her agreement, schooled fingers stopping around a swollen patch of tissue.
"Right here," she said, tapping the spot gently, "I'm afraid your son is right--we will have to pop this back in." Lynn sighed, sliding her hair away from her face.
"Oh, doc," she said, "do we have to?" Her lower lip pooched out in the classic "sad face."
"That's what Cairo does when I have to take him to the dentist," she explained, "isn't that right, Cairo?" The boy didn't even look up, his nose buried in a sketchbook.
"He's drawing," Lynn said in a low voice, "it's like he can't even hear me." Abby darted in, shoes squeaking on the waxed floor.
"Chen said you might need me," she said breathlessly, "what's the order?"
"I'd say... Ativan and Lidocaine, for a dislocation and possible break," Kerry replied, "use your judgement." Abby nodded, pulling two vials from her pocket.
"Done and done," she said, earning herself a smile. She moved towards the counter, cracking the seal on the little bottles and slipping the needles inside.
"Both of those?" Lynn asked suspiciously as Abby approached the cot, tray in hand.
"I'm afraid so." Lynn sighed, rolling up her sleeve once more.
"Go for it," she said, "jab away, darlin'." To Kerry's surprise, Abby blushed, two dots of pink appearing just above her cheekbones. There was something in the tone, in the word choice, in something, that must have made her do it, Kerry wondered... But what? The doctor felt her own face heat up, and she absently pressed a cooling hand against her jawline. Abby recovered and shot the needles home, dropping them into the sharps box on her way out.
"She's a sweetie," Lynn commented, "a little nervy, though." Kerry smiled privately at the description of Abby; 'nervy' was fitting, somehow, though not a word that came readily to mind.
"Okay, now," Kerry began, placing one hand under Lynn's armpit and the other at the base of her elbow, "I'm going to slowly rotate your arm..." The muscle rolled underneath her fingers as her palms pressed upwards, inching it forward.
"... Then... Twist!" There was a snapping noise as the arm rocketed back into position, nearly knocking Lynn flat on her back.
"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, "you did it!" She looked at her newly restored limb in absolute awe.
"It's going to be a little sore for a while," Kerry warned, "so don't do too much too fast. Take Tylenol for pain and ice it if it swells. I'm going to give you a sling and we'll get the results back from Radiology as soon as I track them down." Abby, hearing the key word "radiology," popped her head back in.
"Negative for fracture," she said, ducking back out once more, hauling on her trauma smock as she ran towards the ambulance bay.
"So you're free to go," Kerry said, rummaging under the counter for a soft sling. She found one and fitted it gently around Lynn's shoulder.
"We're done," Lynn called to Cairo, "so get off your butt!" Cairo, hearing her this time, snapped his notebook shut.
"Quicker than the last time!" he said.
"Yes, well last time SOMEONE got stuck in a finger trap... MUCH more complicated," Lynn quipped, pinching her son on his ear.
"Stop by the admit desk and sign out with Jerry," Kerry called after them. She watched as they swung into formation with the rest of the crowd, and crutched off to pull another chart.
***
Takata had the scissors in his hand.
"Should I or shouldn't I?" he asked Abby, who stood looking over his shoulder into the mirror.
"Do it," she said, "I would."
"But I don't know," Takata said, examining his profile carefully, running a hand along his chin.
"Do it!" Abby encouraged, "rock the boat, baby!" Takata squinted at his reflection, suddenly turning and handing the scissors to Abby.
"No," he said, "you do it."
"Me? I can't cut hair!" Takata let out an exasperated sigh.
"Abby, please."
"I can't, Yosh."
"Can't what?" The two turned towards the voice.
"Susan!" they cried in unison. Soon, Takata was seated in the highest chair they could find, a surgical drape around his neck.
"You do know what you're doing, right?" he asked.
"Yes," Dr. Lewis replied, "now stop moving." Takata did as he was told. Tendrils of soft black hair fell onto the blue drape, Susan piloting the scissors expertly.
"You are going to look cute, Yosh," she said, "one hot nurse, comin up!"
"I looked cute before!" Takata objected, swiveling around to look at her.
"Don't move!" Susan and Abby chorused.
"Hi there," she said, pitching her voice to a kinder, higher octave, the way she usually did with kids.
The boy stopped bouncing.
"Hi, doc," he said, dropping to a sitting position on the cot.
"You're not here all by yourself, are you?" Kerry asked, walking so that she stood beside him.
"My mom's here," he said, "she just went to the bathroom." Kerry studied the room briefly; no blood, no discarded gloves, no sign of struggle. The kid, aside from a slightly grubby appearance, looked fine.
"Is she the patient, or are you?" Kerry asked.
"She is." The chart, which seemed as though it had been hurriedly discarded, was face-down bed. She checked the name; Carter. She made a clucking noise with her tongue, realizing only afterwards that she had done it. It was her private sound, something she did only when moved to, after happening upon something that struck her in a particular way. Carter certainly hadn't prompted it much, certainly not since his battle with Vicodin. It wasn't like him to leave a patient unattended but, keeping recent events in mind, Kerry dismissed his negligence. She would handle it from there.
"Lynn Murray, possible dislocated shoulder," she murmured to herself, running a finger down the list of symptoms, "possible hairline fracture..."
"Yeah," the child piped up, "it like got all twisted out of it's socket and stuff. It was really gross."
He wrinkled his nose. Kerry smiled.
"I'm sure it is."
"She was screaming bloody murder," the kid continued, "and said a lot of bad words."
Kerry smiled again, hanging the chart on the bed.
"How long has she been gone for?" The kid shrugged.
"A couple of minutes," he replied, "they shot her in the arm to stop it from hurting and she said she had to pee and that nobody would let her so--" He was interrupted by a loud throat-clearing noise, towards which they both turned.
"Hi mom!" the kid said brightly, "here's the doc." The woman smiled kindly, wincing slightly as she entered the room. She was carrying her right shoulder oddly and, as the child had reported, it looked badly disfigured. She wasn't a tall person, but her presence made her seem so. It wasn't overpowering; in fact, it was just the opposite. She seemed fresh, like a new book, hair bright black, eyes dark brown. Same freckles as the kid. She would, Kerry knew, be an easy patient.
"Let me take a look at that arm," Kerry said briskly, leading the woman towards the cot. The kid hopped down, perching haphazardly in a nearby chair.
"They're gonna pop your arm back in, mom," he said. The woman grimaced.
"Don't say that!" she wailed, "you know that stuff makes me sick to my stomach. Don't make your poor mom vomit!" The kid grinned, but was silent.
"Someone else came in here before," the woman said, addressing Kerry, "Dr. Carter or something like that. He's so young! A baby!" Kerry smiled, pulling up the woman's sleeve to examine the arm.
"I remember when he first started," she mused, feeling along the bicep and shoulder, "he really was a baby then."
"Makes me feel ancient," said the woman, "all these Doogie Howsers running around, calling orders, waving needles... I'm not ready for that... But I guess I've got a few more good years left in me."
"Mom," the kid cut in, "you're not old."
"Thanks, hon," she replied, then turned back to Kerry.
"He's just being sweet, Doctor," she explained, "Doctor... Doctor what, if I may ask?"
"Weaver," Kerry replied; she was nearing the forearm, going as slowly as she could as not to aggravate the injury.
"Doctor Weaver," the woman repeated, "Lynn Murray but please, Lynn. That other doc insisted on Mrs. Murray; made me feel like my mother." Kerry hummed her agreement, schooled fingers stopping around a swollen patch of tissue.
"Right here," she said, tapping the spot gently, "I'm afraid your son is right--we will have to pop this back in." Lynn sighed, sliding her hair away from her face.
"Oh, doc," she said, "do we have to?" Her lower lip pooched out in the classic "sad face."
"That's what Cairo does when I have to take him to the dentist," she explained, "isn't that right, Cairo?" The boy didn't even look up, his nose buried in a sketchbook.
"He's drawing," Lynn said in a low voice, "it's like he can't even hear me." Abby darted in, shoes squeaking on the waxed floor.
"Chen said you might need me," she said breathlessly, "what's the order?"
"I'd say... Ativan and Lidocaine, for a dislocation and possible break," Kerry replied, "use your judgement." Abby nodded, pulling two vials from her pocket.
"Done and done," she said, earning herself a smile. She moved towards the counter, cracking the seal on the little bottles and slipping the needles inside.
"Both of those?" Lynn asked suspiciously as Abby approached the cot, tray in hand.
"I'm afraid so." Lynn sighed, rolling up her sleeve once more.
"Go for it," she said, "jab away, darlin'." To Kerry's surprise, Abby blushed, two dots of pink appearing just above her cheekbones. There was something in the tone, in the word choice, in something, that must have made her do it, Kerry wondered... But what? The doctor felt her own face heat up, and she absently pressed a cooling hand against her jawline. Abby recovered and shot the needles home, dropping them into the sharps box on her way out.
"She's a sweetie," Lynn commented, "a little nervy, though." Kerry smiled privately at the description of Abby; 'nervy' was fitting, somehow, though not a word that came readily to mind.
"Okay, now," Kerry began, placing one hand under Lynn's armpit and the other at the base of her elbow, "I'm going to slowly rotate your arm..." The muscle rolled underneath her fingers as her palms pressed upwards, inching it forward.
"... Then... Twist!" There was a snapping noise as the arm rocketed back into position, nearly knocking Lynn flat on her back.
"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, "you did it!" She looked at her newly restored limb in absolute awe.
"It's going to be a little sore for a while," Kerry warned, "so don't do too much too fast. Take Tylenol for pain and ice it if it swells. I'm going to give you a sling and we'll get the results back from Radiology as soon as I track them down." Abby, hearing the key word "radiology," popped her head back in.
"Negative for fracture," she said, ducking back out once more, hauling on her trauma smock as she ran towards the ambulance bay.
"So you're free to go," Kerry said, rummaging under the counter for a soft sling. She found one and fitted it gently around Lynn's shoulder.
"We're done," Lynn called to Cairo, "so get off your butt!" Cairo, hearing her this time, snapped his notebook shut.
"Quicker than the last time!" he said.
"Yes, well last time SOMEONE got stuck in a finger trap... MUCH more complicated," Lynn quipped, pinching her son on his ear.
"Stop by the admit desk and sign out with Jerry," Kerry called after them. She watched as they swung into formation with the rest of the crowd, and crutched off to pull another chart.
***
Takata had the scissors in his hand.
"Should I or shouldn't I?" he asked Abby, who stood looking over his shoulder into the mirror.
"Do it," she said, "I would."
"But I don't know," Takata said, examining his profile carefully, running a hand along his chin.
"Do it!" Abby encouraged, "rock the boat, baby!" Takata squinted at his reflection, suddenly turning and handing the scissors to Abby.
"No," he said, "you do it."
"Me? I can't cut hair!" Takata let out an exasperated sigh.
"Abby, please."
"I can't, Yosh."
"Can't what?" The two turned towards the voice.
"Susan!" they cried in unison. Soon, Takata was seated in the highest chair they could find, a surgical drape around his neck.
"You do know what you're doing, right?" he asked.
"Yes," Dr. Lewis replied, "now stop moving." Takata did as he was told. Tendrils of soft black hair fell onto the blue drape, Susan piloting the scissors expertly.
"You are going to look cute, Yosh," she said, "one hot nurse, comin up!"
"I looked cute before!" Takata objected, swiveling around to look at her.
"Don't move!" Susan and Abby chorused.