‘I’m also going to draw some blood. I want to take a look at your inflammatory markers.’ She folds her arms across her chest, worry lines spreading across her forehead.
No idea what’s wrong with her, but that expression robs her of every facet of her beauty. ‘Okay, just theoretically: if I manage to coax a smile out of you, does that count as a heroic deed?’
‘Getting you treated would be a heroic deed,’ she counters without batting an eye.
The woman has stamina, I’ll give her that. ‘Okay, I get it. Up goes the index finger, I’ll follow it wherever it goes. But if you don’t find anything that points to a neurological problem, there will be no further tests.’ If something had happened to my brain, I would have noticed long ago. I’m neither dizzy nor nauseous, nor am I confused.
She exhales in relief. The corners of her mouth lift, and although it’s kind of weird that my consent makes her so happy, it feels good to see her looking more relaxed again.
She moves her finger to the right, then to the left, up and down. Obediently, I follow it with my eyes.
‘You see.’ I brace myself on the examination table and smile at her. ‘Everything’s great.’
‘Yeah, everything’s great.’ She nods absentmindedly. ‘Good, then I’ll clean and stitch your wound.’
That sounds like a good plan. ‘I promise to be good. But only if I really get the lollipop,’ I say, trying to coax that little smirk out of her again.
The corners of her mouth wander upward, delicate little lines forming around her doe-like eyes. I have to smile because my plan worked.
‘Deal.’ She numbs the area around my wound, takes saline solution from one of the cabinets, and steps behind me.
A little later I feel the cold dampness running down the back of my head.
‘How long have you been working as a paramedic?’ she asks.
Since I dropped out of med school, but that’s not something I want to talk about. ‘For a while now,’ I answer evasively.
Her stomach briefly brushes my back, the saline solution drips softly into the collection tray. ‘Have you hurt yourself at work often?’
I lift my shoulders casually. ‘Our patients just don’t happen to be lying in a sterile treatment room where we have everything within reach, the light is always perfect, and the surroundings are clean.’ Unlike her and her colleagues here in the ER, paramedics work out in the real world. ‘We have to operate wherever they happen to be. We act the way the situation requires.’
‘So yes,’ she says. ‘But don’t you have rules about how much risk you’re allowed to take? I mean, if you get hurt, you can’t help anyone anymore.’
Oh man, now she sounds like my boss when she reprimanded me yesterday for my supposedly too reckless rescue operation on the train tracks. What was I supposed to do? Leave the woman who collapsed on the tracks lying there as the train approached?
‘Your own safety has to come first,’ Nyla replies urgently.
In reality, that’s just not always possible. That’s exactly what I explained to my boss, and still I ended up with a warning.
‘I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve got two healthy arms and legs, functioning organs, excellent eyesight, and at least a mostly clear mind,’ I say to Nyla.
She pauses in her work, as if she had to think. ‘Yes, you’re here,’ she murmurs pensively. ‘For now.’
I’m not going to respond to that. ‘Anyway, the patients are the focus. They need help, and I help them.’ It’s as simple as that. As a doctor she has to understand that.
Nyla moves away from me, I turn briefly and see that she’s getting the suture kit. ‘Aren’t you afraid that something might go wrong sometime? That you might die on a mission or get so badly injured that you suffer permanent damage?’
‘Never.’ What would be the point of thinking about what could happen? It wouldn’t protect me, it would just drive me needlessly crazy.
Again she steps behind me. Thanks to the anesthetic I don’t feel it, but I still know she’s starting the stitches. ‘You should be, though.’
‘Nothing’s going to happen to me.’
A quiet snort leaves her mouth. ‘You really are a real hero, huh?’
No, I’m anything but that. ‘Sure,’ I answer anyway, so I don’t have to think about the truth. ‘The world needs heroes, after all.’
She continues working in silence and I wonder what she’s thinking right now. Whether she can admit to herself that I’m right?
