Sometimes I have to wonder if doctors go to medical school because they are
sadists at heart. I mean, how much do they have to move around an injured
hand to see if it hurts? Nick and I must have waited for about forty
minutes before I actually had a doctor look at my hand. After one glance
and a not so gentle prod, this doctor who appeared to be about ten years
old pronounced that my hand was injured and I needed an X-ray. Before I
could mutter an especially witty remark, Nick thanked him tactfully and
cast me an amused glance.
I rolled my eyes as the doctor left. "Nick, this is going to take all night, and meanwhile, we've got a case to work on."
He raised a single eyebrow at me. "You should have thought about that before you took out your frustration on my dashboard."
At the moment I felt like wallowing in self pity. "It didn't stop you from hitting the table when you were pissed off."
He raised his hands and flexed both of them in front of my face. "I'm not the one getting my hand X-rayed."
He had a point. A few moments later, the ten year old looking doctor returned with another doctor in tow.
"I'm Dr. Mitchell. Dr. Sprague here says he thinks you might have broken your hand." This doctor actually looked old enough to have completed the required years of medical school as well as an internship in some specialty after first learning how to walk.
Nick shook his hand. "This is Sara. I'm her friend Nick."
Dr. Mitchell raised an eyebrow at me. "Sara, why don't you tell me what you did while I examine your hand."
I grimaced in pain as he took my hand. "I hit Nick's dashboard with my fist."
The doctor looked at Nick to confirm the story. Nick nodded. "We're Crime Scene Investigators with LVMPD and we've been working on a particularly difficult case. Sara was upset and wanted to take her frustration out on something. Unfortunately, the dashboard won."
I glanced at Nick and rolled my eyes at him, before letting out a stream of curses as the doctor not so gently manipulated my hand. "You know, it hurts like hell. At some point is someone actually going to take an X-ray, or would the entire emergency room like to come in here and have a turn?" I was getting pissed.
Dr. Mitchell dismissed Dr. Sprague with a well placed glance. "We'll get you set up here right away. I just wanted to take a look at your hand in case we need to do surgery."
I let out an audible groan. All I needed was surgery. That meant time away from the case; time I didn't have.
True to his word, they took an X-ray of my hand within ten minutes. While we waited for the doctor to return, Nick tried to keep me sane. "This isn't going to help toughen up your image, Sidle."
Suddenly, I was very scared. My job is pretty much my life. I'm not sure what I would do if I had to stay home for a few days. "Nick, what am I going to do if it's broken?"
I think he could tell how scared I was. "Sar, you can't change it, you might as well just make the best of it. If your hand is broken and you need a cast, I'll take you down to the casinos and see if we can get some celebrities to sign it."
I chuckled. "Uh, Elvis impersonators don't count."
Nick feigned disappointment. "Damn, and I was hoping there was some reason I could justify attending that Elvis convention at the Sands next week."
We were interrupted by Dr. Mitchell whose expression didn't give away much. He put the X-ray up so I could see it. "Well, you've got a hairline fracture right here across these two bones, and it looks like you've managed to jam your wrist, but I don't think you're going to need a cast, just a splint for now, and unless you decide to go a few more rounds with a dashboard, I see no reason for surgery."
I felt relief wash over me as the realization that I would not have to have surgery registered in my mind. However, in his next sentence, I felt my heart sink.
"I don't want you driving for at least two weeks though. No unnecessary pressure on the bones, so they have a chance to heal properly. Give my office a call in the morning and make a follow up appointment." He handed Nick his card and me a prescription for pain killers and said we were free to go as soon as he put the splint on my hand.
I grumbled all the way back to the lab. I was not looking forward to facing Grissom, who obviously had been looking for me when he'd called Nick's cell phone. "Uh, Nick?"
He glanced over at me as we neared the lab. "Yeah?"
"What did Grissom want earlier?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
"He just wanted to know what happened to you. He said when you left you looked upset and no one had seen you for a while." Nick flashed me one of those grins that makes you want to smile regardless of how you feel.
"Oh." I glanced out the window until we pulled into the parking lot.
Nick turned off the engine and didn't move. Curiously, I turned to look at him. "What's up?"
He looked like he was trying to find the best choice of words. "Are you ok?"
I rolled my eyes at him. I did not want to have this conversation, even though I was pretty sure that he knew I was hiding something, which is why I was so upset in the first place. I held up my splinted hand. "Broken hand, Stokes. What do you think?"
A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth. "That's not what I meant. Are you ok? Earlier you were pretty upset. Do you want to talk about it?"
I let out a deep breath. "I'm fine, Nick. I just needed to blow off some steam. If I need someone to talk to, you'll be the first one to know. Ok?" I hoped I sounded convincing.
He nodded at me and I could tell that he really didn't believe me, but he'd also known me long enough to know that I didn't like people pushing me and he almost always respected that.
I moved to get out of the Denali and felt a hand on my arm. I glanced back at him and gave him a quizzical expression.
"Sara, you don't have to tell me what's going on, but I'm your friend and I care about you. You can trust me." I knew he was sincere, but as I fought the panic welling up in me, I also knew I wasn't ready to tell anyone about what was going on, not even Nick who had shared his most hellish moment with me.
I nodded at him. "We need to get inside." With that I descended from the vehicle and headed toward the door with Nick right behind me. I just hoped the rest of the crew wouldn't push me too much about what I'd done to my hand and why I'd been so pissed off in the first place.
I rolled my eyes as the doctor left. "Nick, this is going to take all night, and meanwhile, we've got a case to work on."
He raised a single eyebrow at me. "You should have thought about that before you took out your frustration on my dashboard."
At the moment I felt like wallowing in self pity. "It didn't stop you from hitting the table when you were pissed off."
He raised his hands and flexed both of them in front of my face. "I'm not the one getting my hand X-rayed."
He had a point. A few moments later, the ten year old looking doctor returned with another doctor in tow.
"I'm Dr. Mitchell. Dr. Sprague here says he thinks you might have broken your hand." This doctor actually looked old enough to have completed the required years of medical school as well as an internship in some specialty after first learning how to walk.
Nick shook his hand. "This is Sara. I'm her friend Nick."
Dr. Mitchell raised an eyebrow at me. "Sara, why don't you tell me what you did while I examine your hand."
I grimaced in pain as he took my hand. "I hit Nick's dashboard with my fist."
The doctor looked at Nick to confirm the story. Nick nodded. "We're Crime Scene Investigators with LVMPD and we've been working on a particularly difficult case. Sara was upset and wanted to take her frustration out on something. Unfortunately, the dashboard won."
I glanced at Nick and rolled my eyes at him, before letting out a stream of curses as the doctor not so gently manipulated my hand. "You know, it hurts like hell. At some point is someone actually going to take an X-ray, or would the entire emergency room like to come in here and have a turn?" I was getting pissed.
Dr. Mitchell dismissed Dr. Sprague with a well placed glance. "We'll get you set up here right away. I just wanted to take a look at your hand in case we need to do surgery."
I let out an audible groan. All I needed was surgery. That meant time away from the case; time I didn't have.
True to his word, they took an X-ray of my hand within ten minutes. While we waited for the doctor to return, Nick tried to keep me sane. "This isn't going to help toughen up your image, Sidle."
Suddenly, I was very scared. My job is pretty much my life. I'm not sure what I would do if I had to stay home for a few days. "Nick, what am I going to do if it's broken?"
I think he could tell how scared I was. "Sar, you can't change it, you might as well just make the best of it. If your hand is broken and you need a cast, I'll take you down to the casinos and see if we can get some celebrities to sign it."
I chuckled. "Uh, Elvis impersonators don't count."
Nick feigned disappointment. "Damn, and I was hoping there was some reason I could justify attending that Elvis convention at the Sands next week."
We were interrupted by Dr. Mitchell whose expression didn't give away much. He put the X-ray up so I could see it. "Well, you've got a hairline fracture right here across these two bones, and it looks like you've managed to jam your wrist, but I don't think you're going to need a cast, just a splint for now, and unless you decide to go a few more rounds with a dashboard, I see no reason for surgery."
I felt relief wash over me as the realization that I would not have to have surgery registered in my mind. However, in his next sentence, I felt my heart sink.
"I don't want you driving for at least two weeks though. No unnecessary pressure on the bones, so they have a chance to heal properly. Give my office a call in the morning and make a follow up appointment." He handed Nick his card and me a prescription for pain killers and said we were free to go as soon as he put the splint on my hand.
I grumbled all the way back to the lab. I was not looking forward to facing Grissom, who obviously had been looking for me when he'd called Nick's cell phone. "Uh, Nick?"
He glanced over at me as we neared the lab. "Yeah?"
"What did Grissom want earlier?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
"He just wanted to know what happened to you. He said when you left you looked upset and no one had seen you for a while." Nick flashed me one of those grins that makes you want to smile regardless of how you feel.
"Oh." I glanced out the window until we pulled into the parking lot.
Nick turned off the engine and didn't move. Curiously, I turned to look at him. "What's up?"
He looked like he was trying to find the best choice of words. "Are you ok?"
I rolled my eyes at him. I did not want to have this conversation, even though I was pretty sure that he knew I was hiding something, which is why I was so upset in the first place. I held up my splinted hand. "Broken hand, Stokes. What do you think?"
A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth. "That's not what I meant. Are you ok? Earlier you were pretty upset. Do you want to talk about it?"
I let out a deep breath. "I'm fine, Nick. I just needed to blow off some steam. If I need someone to talk to, you'll be the first one to know. Ok?" I hoped I sounded convincing.
He nodded at me and I could tell that he really didn't believe me, but he'd also known me long enough to know that I didn't like people pushing me and he almost always respected that.
I moved to get out of the Denali and felt a hand on my arm. I glanced back at him and gave him a quizzical expression.
"Sara, you don't have to tell me what's going on, but I'm your friend and I care about you. You can trust me." I knew he was sincere, but as I fought the panic welling up in me, I also knew I wasn't ready to tell anyone about what was going on, not even Nick who had shared his most hellish moment with me.
I nodded at him. "We need to get inside." With that I descended from the vehicle and headed toward the door with Nick right behind me. I just hoped the rest of the crew wouldn't push me too much about what I'd done to my hand and why I'd been so pissed off in the first place.