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“All that and more. I’m assuming lesser antibiotics aren’t indicated?”
I mimicked my shrug from a few minutes ago. “Anthrax.”
“Lucky me.” He didn’t flinch when I gave him the shot, and he swallowed the first dose of his antibiotic without complaint.
“Okay, remember, you can’t eat or drink dairy or calcium-fortified juice outside of meals while you’re on cipro.”
“I’d like to eat anything. Is this how you break people down to eat in the cafeteria?”
I beamed at him. “We also offer a platinum membership, if you’re interested.”
“Sign me up.”
I delivered Davis’s breakfast, which he thanked me for, although we both knew the contents of the tray were not going to thrill him. He did offer a smile when he lifted the cloche off the toast, eggs and bacon, though.
I should’ve headed off for rounds, but instead, I found myself sinking onto the stool again. Getting up and down in this breathing apparatus was a better workout than squats. I felt like one of those idiot wrestlers in high school trying to cut weight by sweating off the pounds.
He nodded at the guidelines between bites of bacon. “If I had my computer, I could type those up for you.”
“I’ll see about getting it for you, if it’s been decontaminated.”
“Thanks for taking care of that.” He paused. “Thanks for taking care ofme.”
“Of course.” I’d say that to any patient, but for Davis, I meant it more.
“You have a gift with patients,” he said. “You’ll make a great ID doctor.”
I shifted on the stool, but immediately had to shift back to keep my balance with the heavy tank. “Thank you—but I’m actually going into research with the NIH.”
“Oh.” Davis turned back to his breakfast. “I’m sure you’re great at that, too.”
“I want to make a difference.” I wasn’t sure I’d told anyone that before.
“I get that. It’s why I went into public health.”
I gestured for him to go on, and he contemplated his answer. “Growing up like I did—”
“Rich?” I supplied.
“Yes.” He wasn’t at all ashamed, simply straightforward with his reality. “It’s easy to feel... disconnected. But I didn’t wany anyone—any child—to go through what I did with a preventable illness.”
He could have gone on his merry way. The life and the health of us plebes might never have affected his life again. But that hadn’t been his choice. “And did you make a difference?”
“Vaccination rates are at a ten-year high in Napa, and we decreased HAIs eleven percent. It’s kind of given me an actual purpose other than spending my parents’ money.” He cracked a half smile.
That was exactly what I was hoping to do with research: benefit as many people as I could. (Not spend his parents’ money. But I would definitely accept a grant.)
“But—” Davis met my eyes. “—I think you make a difference to every person you treat.”
I considered that a moment. “Maybe so. I should... probably get to them.”
He nodded, releasing me. I turned away until Davis’s tentative baritone drew me back. “Cassie?”
It was hard enough to leave; did he have to make this harder?
I swiveled back to him. This time, he stared at his breakfast. “Can I ask you something?”
I braced myself for the hard questions that come with a possibly terminal diagnosis. “I may not have all the answers, but of course.”
