The blond paramedic pulls him away from the door and spots me against the opposite wall. ‘Do you have time? There’s a head wound here that needs stitching.’
‘It’s just a scratch,’ this Jaden says to me, shaking off the blond guy’s hand. ‘Give me a compress, that’ll do.’
‘Believe me, you need more than a compress.’ I point to treatment room five at the end of the hallway, its door standing open. ‘In here, please, I’ll patch you back together.’
Despite his protest, the blond guy with the full beard steers him into the room. ‘Hi, I’m Ray,’ he says to me on the way. ‘Are you new here?’ Searching for my name, his gaze wanders to my lab coat, but doesn’t find anything there. I won’t get my name tag until tomorrow.
I nod. ‘Nyla, nice to meet you.’
He points at my patient. ‘And this is Jaden.’ With a conspiratorial look, he glances at me. ‘He thinks he’s a superhero, but—spoiler alert—he’s not.’
‘I do not, I can just tell the difference between a serious and a minor injury,’ Jaden replies, amused.
We reach the treatment room; Ray doesn’t let go of Jaden until he’s seated on the examination table. ‘I’ll make sure a file gets opened for him,’ he says to me. ‘And you’—he points his index finger at Jaden—’you are going to let yourself be treated, no ifs, no buts.’
‘Yes, Dad, I’ll be good, I promise,’ Jaden replies, sounding anything but repentant.
Ray grins. ‘Good, then you’ll get a lollipop afterwards.’
I can’t help but laugh. Those two are really something. ‘All right, let’s get started.’
While Ray leaves the room, I pull on gloves and step behind Jaden to take a closer look at his wound. About five centimeters long, dead straight, no fraying, but full of wood splinters.
‘How did this happen?’ Carefully, I push his dark hair aside.
He shrugs. ‘A wooden board decided to throw itself at me while I was treating the patient.’
‘That wasn’t very nice of the board,’ I say, amused, and gently feel his head. ‘Were you unconscious?’
‘It was a tiny wooden board, not a steel girder several meters long.’ There’s an easygoing note in his voice.
The board was definitely not tiny. I walk around the examination couch he’s sitting on and pull the flashlight from my coat pocket. ‘I see. And did thistinyboard only get you on the head, or anywhere else too? Your back, for example?’
‘No idea.’ Our gazes meet, and in his green eyes I can see that he really doesn’t know.
He might have been briefly unconscious after all. Worried, I step closer. ‘What exactly were you doing when the board hit you?’ I ask, switching on the flashlight and checking his pupillary response.
The green of his iris reminds me of coastal grass, the dynamics of his gaze resemble the sea on a stormy day. For a fraction of a second I’m caught by those eyes. I blink quickly.
‘Well, you know, the usual when a patient is lying unconscious on the floor in front of you and could die any second. I was taking a nice, relaxing break and lit up a cig to unwind.’ He winks at me cheekily.
Not funny. Not at all. He could be seriously injured.
‘Your pupillary response is normal.’ Very good. At least a little relieved, I lower the flashlight. Our gazes meet again, there’s a lively sparkle in his eyes. I raise my index finger. ‘Follow my finger only with your eyes.’
My finger moves to the right, but he keeps looking at me. ‘Come on, I’m fine, a neurological exam isn’t necessary.’
‘An undetected and therefore untreated brain contusion can lead to permanent damage,’ I reply urgently.
‘Brain contusion? That’s really far-fetched.’ Instead of letting me continue to check him over, he tries to get up from the cot. ‘That’s enough now.’
If he thinks I’m going to let him leave with this injury without thorough checks and treatment, he’s gravely mistaken.
Firmly, I place my hands on his shoulders. ‘You could also have a cerebral haemorrhage, which can lead to paralysis, loss of consciousness, and in the worst case, death from brainstem herniation.’ And with that, I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t already know because of his job—which makes his behavior even more paradoxical than it already is.
He spreads his arms. ‘Come on…’
With a shake of my head, I signal to him that I won’t make any compromises.
