The Sunflower: A Novel Read Free

herself slicing the Christmas ham.”
    He examined the chart. “How big is it?”
    “The ham?”
    He looked up and a smile rose on his lips. “The laceration.”
    Kelly blushed. “Sorry. About two and a half centimeters.”
    “Let’s go see her.”
    The woman was twenty-something, dressed in black, tight, low-slung jeans and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt. She had darkly lined eyes and spiky, brunet hair. She was sitting upright on the examination table, holding a gauze pad around her finger. The blood had stained through the bandage and she glanced up nervously as he entered. He greeted her with a warm smile. “I’m Dr. Cook. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long.”
    “It’s okay. It’s really busy.”
    He walked to her side. “I understand you decided to serve your finger for dinner.”
    She slightly smiled. “I was cutting a ham and the knife slipped.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “About three hours ago. I came as soon as it happened.”
    “Let’s take a look.” He gently pulled back the bandage. The laceration was about an inch long and looked like it went clear to the bone.
    “You’re pretty brave. I’d probably be howling about now. Before I give you an anesthetic, I need to see if you have nerve or tendon damage. I want you to extend your finger like this.” He held his forefinger out in demonstration. She obeyed.
    “Now hold it stiff, don’t let me bend it.” He pushed down on the top of her finger, which she successfully resisted.
    “That’s good. Keep holding it out and I’ll check blood flow.”
    He squeezed the end of her finger until it was white, then released. It quickly turned pink again. “Blood supply is good. Just one more test.”
    He took the paper clip from her chart and bent it out so its two ends were extended. “Close your eyes.” He touched her finger with the two prongs. “How many points do you feel?”
    “Two.”
    He moved it down her finger.
    “And now?”
    “Two.”
    “Good. You can open your eyes.”
    She examined the paper clip. “That’s pretty high-tech equipment you’ve got there.”
    He smiled. “Nothing but the best for my patients. Kelly, get me three cc’s of two percent plain Xylocaine.”
    Kelly had already prepared for the shot. “Here you go.”
    “Thank you.” He took the syringe and turned back to the young woman. “You missed all the vital stuff. So all I need to do is sew you up and send you home. Let me have you lay your hand down, palm up. I’m going to give you a digital block to numb your finger.”
    She turned away as he slid the needle into the palm of her hand. She said, “I feel so dumb. I work at a floral shop and cut flowers all day and I’ve never had an accident.”
    “Accidents happen. Dumb are those who do it on purpose.” He took the needle out. “Just one more.”
    She bit her lower lip as he slid the needle back into her palm. She asked, “Do you see many suicides?”
    He nodded. “Especially this time of the year.” He stood, breaking the needle off into a disposal pack. “It will take a few minutes for that to numb. I’m sorry to make you wait again, but I’ll be back in just ten minutes. Promise.”
    “Thank you.”
    He walked back to the charting room and wrote down the details of his visit, then scanned the screen for his next patient. Another nurse, Ken, was inside the room. Paul asked him, “Have you seen Mrs. Schiffman in G?”
    “About ten minutes ago.”
    “Let’s go see her.” He grabbed a chart and walked to the fourth door. A blond woman in her mid-thirties lay on her back. She was wearing a hospital gown and her foot was elevated about five inches off the bed. Her husband, a red-faced, barrel-chested man with a beard and a large belly sat next to her reading Car and Driver. He looked up as Paul and Ken entered, his face screwed up with annoyance. “It’s about time someone came. Doctors think their time’s more valuable than everyone else’s.”
    “We’re a little busy,”