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“I’m sorry, Dr. Ramirez. I know she is a close friend,” said the chief.
I nodded again. Other than thethank youI’d offered the ER doctor, I hadn’t said a word to anyone since I saw her.
When I thought of the asshole’s name, Brian, a sensation like a thousand tiny snakes slithering through my veins coursed through me. He was a revolting man who did a revolting thing. My fists balled. I wanted to punch something. I’d never punched anything in my life. I am too controlled, and I suddenly understood the allure of Valentina’s profession. I never so much as punched a pillow in anger. Yet, here I was, the eternal pacifist, ready to punch something, if not someone.
“Do you know who it was?” Hector asked.
I nodded.
“That’s good. I’ll call the police,” said the chief.
“No,” I protested, finding my voice.
“Excuse me?” said the chief.
“You can’t take that away from her. Let her be in control ofsomething. When the medication wears off, I’ll let her tell me what happened. It’s up to her if she wants to press charges. Believe me, chief,” I added at his expression of horror, “itkillsme not to call the cops right this second.”
“She’s right,” Hector said. “We can’t be the ones to take more power away from her.”
I stared at him, surprised he would agree with me. Most men in my life would go in search of the guilty party and serve their own justice. His cool head gave me comfort—a comfort that was a constant recurrence whenever Hector was around.
Think positively,I told myself. She’s alive. She likely had some broken bones, but she would live. I hoped this was her rock bottom—the catalyst she needed to leave him once and for all.
“Can you do me a favor?” I asked the two men, and they both nodded.
“Don’t be here when she comes out.” Before they could protest, I provided the reason. “She will be embarrassed enough as it is. Oh, and Dr. Medina? Do you mind finding me a hospital computer? I want to see the X-rays when they are up.”
Both men nodded and left me standing there. Not long after Hector brought me a laptop, Sara was rolled out in her wheelchair. An admitting nurse came to the exam room to process paperwork, and we were taken to a patient room while we awaited Sara’s doctor.
It was bizarre entering the hospital via the path patients typically took. There was endless waiting. Empty moments of time in which we, the loved ones, could only worry and imagine the worst.
My work life in this hospital was always rushed. I pushed on from patient to patient and from chart to chart. There was never enough time, and the hours flew by.
Now, a single hour turned into a day. I drummed my fingers on the laptop and refreshed the page every five minutes or so. Finally, the X-rays were available. I looked at the images closely.
She had aMonteggiafracture. The ulnar bone was fractured, and the head of the radial bone was dislocated by the elbow joint. Her ribs were only bruised.
A different doctor walked into the room, and he introduced himself as Dr. Morgan. I’d seen him around the hospital and knew he was the chief of ortho, but I rarely interacted with the orthopedic surgeons—all except one. I shared my findings with him to get confirmation.
“You are oncology, right?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And how long has it been since your radiology or ortho rotations?”
“A while.”
He studied me. “You are spot-on about her fractures. If you ever want to change fields to ortho, we’d be happy to have you.”
“Thanks, but I’ve found my calling.” I smiled weakly at him. Any other day, I would have jumped with joy at being on his radar. Already, I was thinking of ways to include the ortho department on future grant proposals, but Sara groaned, and my attention drifted back to her.
“What about her nose?” I asked.
“We’ll wait a few days until the swelling goes down, and I’ll do another exam. It looks like a minor fracture with no major misalignment, but I’ll reassess in three days.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said.
“I’ll need consent for surgery to repair the forearm. I’ll be back in an hour to chat about it with her when she is more awake.”
