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“Are you okay? What happened?” I asked.
“I suspect it has something to do with you whacking me in the head with that 2x4 you were swinging around,” he replied. “Maybe I should be asking you what you’re doing in this alley all alone. You know it’s not safe here.”
“I know. There were three rats chasing me and I guess I panicked and wasn’t watching what I was doing with the wood.Let me take a look at your wound,” I said. The blood continued to run down his head and now onto his shoulder and chest.
“I’ll clean it when I get home.”
“Absolutely not. You need to clean it properly or you risk an infection. And it is possible you need stitches. I won’t know until I stop the bleeding,” I said.
“I have stuff for that in my Jeep.”
“Dirty rags and a Band-Aid do not qualify as proper wound-cleaning material,” I stated firmly.
He laughed. “Coagulant. It’s a...”
“I’m a doctor. I know what it is. What I don’t know is why you have it in your Jeep.” It was a medicine used to stop or slow the flow of bleeding. “Are you a hemophiliac?”
“If I was, then I definitely chose the wrong career,” he grinned.
I had no idea why he was so calm when the bleeding hadn’t slowed at all. I was used to seeing blood, but this patient didn’t seem to want my help. And helping is what I did and still do.
“Well, I don’t care what you do because if we don’t stop the bleeding, you might not need to worry about working. Now, come with me, and let’s clean that wound.” He just stood there, not budging. I put my hands on my hips and said, “Do I need to get that 2x4 again?”
I was only joking, but his eyes widened, and he said, laughing, “You’re out of your weight class.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t get it.”
“You know, size and weight. Like in boxing,” he explained.
“Oh, that. I hate violence. All that injury and blood.” I shivered.
“You’re a doctor and you can’t handle blood?” he asked.
“I see plenty of blood. And I’m used to injuries as well. But they are all a result of some sort of an accident, vicious attack or during surgery. Not because they were out therefighting intentionally.” I didn’t know much about the sport, but I remember my father sitting in front of the television watching boxing matches at night, and I cringed every time one of them got hit in the face. Broken noses, cut eyes, swollen lips. For what? To make others want to fight you next time? No, thank you. Not for me.
“Okay, Doctor....? What’s your name?” he asked.
We were making progress. He at least was acknowledging I was a doctor. Next, maybe I can get him to let me treat him. “Dr. Sydney Swoony. And you are?”
“Cameron Giampietro.”
“Well Mr. Giampietro, I think you should come to my office and let me look you over,” I suggested.
“I’m okay. Just a small cut that I’ll take care of when I get home,” he said.
God, you’re stubborn.I couldn’t just let him leave without making sure he was okay. I knew that it wasn’t a light tap on his head. I had felt the vibration of the contact throughout the board.
“I have taken an oath, and I am obliged to treat you. Now, you can either come with me, or I can call an ambulance and let them take you to the hospital to be looked after. Which would you prefer?” I asked firmly.
“There is a third option. You take my word for it and trust that I know my body. I’m okay.” He held up three fingers and said, “Three fingers. I know my date of birth, where I am, and my name. See. Fine.”
He turned to walk away, and I grabbed hold of his hand. He stopped and looked down at me. His eyes grew dark, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry, but he just stared at me.
I wasn’t not one who got intimidated, because I’d treated horses who were much bigger than he was, and aggressive dogsthat were known to bite. But there was something in the way he looked at me that made my legs tremble.
Softly, I pleaded, “Please, Mr. Giampietro. If you won’t let me treat you, then will you at least let me bring you home and make sure you’re okay once you’ve cleaned up the wound?”
“You want to come home with me?” he chuckled. “Got to admit, you do have the most unconventional way to meet. I mean, you could’ve just asked for my number.”
