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Dr. Conti slipped on gloves and looked at the back of Islah’s head. “Okay. Not too bad,” he said, carefully probing around the wound with his fingers. “The bleeding always makes it look worse than it is.”
“She seems a little out of it,” Cinna insisted.
“Did she lose consciousness?” Dr. Conti asked.
“No,” Cinna said.
“Has there been any vomiting? Bleeding or fluid draining from the nose or ears?”
“No.”
“Okay,” Dr. Conti said, producing a pen light, and flashing it in Islah’s eyes. “Follow the light for me, honey,” he said, voice soothing. “Good. Good. Okay. And do you know where you are?”
“Urgent care.”
“And who are these people here?” he asked, waving back toward us.
“My brother and Cinna,” she said, just as the door burst open, and a panicked Dav came rushing in, making a beeline for Cinna. “And Dav,” Islah added.
“Good,” Dr. Conti said. “And do you have any ringing in your ears? Any strange spots in your vision?”
“No.”
“Good. Any weakness in your arms or legs?” he asked, watching as Islah lifted each.
“No.”
“You’re not slurring either, so that’s a good sign. Can you hop down for me and just do a quick little walk around the room?” he asked, making sure he was right there at her side in case she stumbled as she moved around Cinna and Dav, the latter trying to pull Cinna’s jacket off, so he could look at the wound.
“Alright, well, you seem to be doing okay. It’s not abnormal for her to have been a little spaced out or confused right after her brain knocked around in her skull,” he said, speaking to us as he gathered supplies to treat her head wound. “Of course, someone needs to keep an eye on her. Even waking her up on occasion and asking her simple questions to make sure there is no mental confusion. And if you notice any of the symptoms I asked about just a moment ago, she should follow up with the emergency room, where she can get some scans done to see what is going on. We don’t have them here,” he added, looking at me, making sure I understood he was doing everything in his power.
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding.
“My head hurts,” Islah said, as if we didn’t all see how small her eyes were, how much she was struggling against the stark fluorescent lights in the office.
“Yeah, I’m sure it does, honey. We can get you some acetaminophen for it, but NSAIDs are off the table, and I don’t really feel comfortable prescribing any pain meds until we see how you do through the night. I’m sorry I can’t do more,” he said.
To that, Islah made a little whimpering sound that made my heart ache for her, knowing that this shit never should have been able to happen.
I should have had more guards around.
Sent the girls out of state where no one could get to them.
“Okay,” Dr. Conti said. “We’re just going to get you numbed up, and then I will just put a few staples in.”
“Are you going to have to shave my head?” Islah asked, sounding both horrified and resigned at the same time.
“Just a small spot. No one will know if you pull your hair back after the staples are out,” Dr. Conti told her, giving her a soft smile.
As the doctor concentrated on Islah, her hand squeezing mine, Dav finally wrestled Cinna out of her jacket to check out her arm.
She was right. It had been a flesh wound at the area just under her shoulder in the fatty part of her arm. Still, I was sure it hurt like a bitch.
Dav pulled her in closer, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“The boys are freaking out,” Dav said, meaning the teens they’d all but adopted.
“You shouldn’t have told them,” Cinna insisted.
