Page 7 of Worth the Risk

There was really no point in worrying her until I knew if he was going to make this a problem. Maybe he’d keep quiet about it, or maybe he wouldn’t assume to know anything about what we might have been doing in that room. That was probably too much to hope for, but I was a man that liked to dream big.

For now, I’d just keep my mouth shut and hope that no matter what Dr. Serrano thought he saw, he’d do the same.

Chapter Three: Zoey

The hospital was always busier on Mondays, especially the emergency room. I was surprised by that when I started working in this department, but one of the older nurses that’d been doing this for years explained to me that many people avoided the ER on weekends either because they worried it would be too crowded or they just didn’t want to spend a day off dealing with minor issues.

The unfortunate truth was that putting off getting medical care often led to small problems becoming big ones.

Which was why I was currently drawing a circle around the inflamed red skin of a patient with a purple surgical marker while Ford explained to him that he had a serious infection.

“It was just a scratch,” the patient said, shaking his head. He was a forty-year-old man with a flannel shirt and a stubborn streak that I picked up on immediately when I assessed his condition. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“You said you scratched it on a rusty nail?” Ford asked, leaning in to look at the wound on the man’s right leg, just above the ankle.

“Yeah, I was gardening and didn’t see it sticking out of the fence. It didn’t hurt that badly, so I figured it was fine.”

Ford reached out with his gloved hands and gently prodded the wound. “And how does it feel now, Mr. Newman?”

Based on the way he flinched, I already knew the answer to that question.

“It’s killing me. And I told you to call me Scott.”

Ford grinned, but the skin around his eyes was still tight. He was worried about this man.

“Okay, Scott. Nurse Simms says you have a temperature of 101.9.” He glanced at the monitor beside the bed. “Your heart rate is 115 and your blood pressure reading was on the low side. This tells me that the infection is spreading. It’s likely in your bloodstream, and your entire body is responding to it. You need fluids and broad-spectrum antibiotics started immediately.”

I was already turning toward the cabinets against the wall to grab two IV kits, but I stopped when Scott spoke again.

“No, not yet. I want to wait for Dr. Hayes to get here.”

Ford blinked. “Dr. Hayes?”

“He’s my doctor. When I called his office this morning, he told me to come here, and he’s on his way.”

Ford’s eyes flickered to me before settling back on Scott. “If he told you to come here, he must have thought it was important that you get treatment immediately. Timing is crucial in matters like this. Right now, we can still get in front of this, but the longer we wait, the greater the damage. Infection in the bloodstream can affect the heart and kidneys. So, I want Nurse Simms to get a blood culture and then, we’ll put an IV in each arm. I’m sure Dr. Hayes would agree.”

I could tell by the way Scott folded his arms across his chest that he wasn’t going to budge on this.

“Dr. Hayes won’t keep me waiting for long,” he said. “I don’t want you to do anything that will mess up his treatment plan.”

The annoyance flickered across Ford’s face so quickly that I was sure no one else would have seen it. But I knew him better than most people.

He managed to cover it with a blank expression as he nodded. “If you insist. Just know that if you go into shock, your decision-making capabilities may be compromised.”

“How about I draw your blood?” I said, giving Scott a gentle smile. “Dr. Hayes is going to need those results to decide what treatment will work best for you.”

“We know what treatment he needs,” Ford mumbled from the corner of the room, where he was now typing on the computer, probably making notes in Scott’s chart for Dr. Hayes.

Scott didn’t seem to hear him, which was probably for the best. Ford slipped out of the room while I drew Scott’s blood, returning with Dr. Hayes just as I finished.

“Scott, it’s good to see you,” Dr. Hayes said, shaking the man’s hand. “I just wish it was under different circumstances. Tell me what’s going on.”

Ford jumped in before Scott could speak, rattling off his assessment of the man’s symptoms and diagnosis.

“I see,” Dr. Hayes said, prodding the red skin around the wound. “Well, Scott, it sounds like a pretty serious infection. I want to start fluids and antibiotics immediately.”

I could see the combination of vindication and annoyance in Ford’s eyes at that. “That was my plan.”