Page 13 of Beating Heart
She nodded. “I can do that. And Doc thinks we’re really lucky to have gotten you, so you can’t be all bad.”
Was there a compliment in there?
“Well, I hope he’s right.”
Lana appeared in the doorway and made a face before whispering. “Carrie Peters is here, and she’s in a mood.”
Petra pushed to her feet and then leaned down close to my ear. “Carrie is a bit of a pill. She pulled my hair a few months back when I tried to take her temperature, and she’s also bitten Doc several times. She even broke skin once.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “He did give me a heads-up. I’m ready for her.”
He’d basically called her an eleven-year-old hellion with a mother who modeled similar behavior and defended her daughter at all times.
Petra left to go get her vitals and take her to room one while I made my way to my office and gathered my files, leaving my coffee there before heading to meet my new patient.
Petra was coming out of the room as she pulled the door closed and hurried me a few feet away, her face flush. “I think she’s probably got strep throat from the looks of it, but she’s refusing to get swabbed. She already dug her nails into my arm, so I told her I’d come speak to you and see if there was another option.” I glanced down to see the notable claw marks on Petra’s wrist.
“She has to let us look at her throat and swab her in order to know if it’s strep. Why don’t we go in there together, and I’ll talk to her and her mother.”
“Her mother goes along with whatever she wants,” Petra said, as if that made it okay.
“We’ve got this.” I winked and walked back toward room one.
This was not my first rodeo with a difficult patient.
She followed me inside. The rooms were larger than I was used to in the city, and I appreciated it. There was cute wallpaper on the walls, each one a tribute to different animated animals, like a monkey, a pig, and a dog. There were two chairs in each room for the kids and the parents to sit on, and there was an examination table that had colorful paper with stripes and polka dots on it.
“Hey there. I’m Dr. Chadwick. It’s nice to meet you both.” I smiled, taking in Carrie and her mom. It was obvious Carrie wasn’t feeling well, as her cheeks were bright red, and her lips were cracked from being dehydrated. I asked Petra to go grab us a Gatorade from the refrigerator, and she left quickly.
“I don’t drink Gatorade,” Carrie hissed, and I placed her file on the counter before bending down to get eye level with her.
Her mother glared at me. “Yes. It’s pure sugar. I can’t believe you keep that here.”
“I’m certainly not suggesting you drink it daily, but your lips are cracked and you’re clearly not feeling well. If you don’t get hydrated, you’ll end up in the hospital,” I said, keeping my tone even and controlled as Petra came back into the room and handed me the blue drink. “So, how about you get a couple of sips in you while we discuss your options?”
Carrie narrowed her gaze, as if she were trying to figure me out, and then she nodded. She unscrewed the cap and tipped her head back, chugging the blue drink, and I pushed back up to standing. “I’d like to have you come sit up on this table so I can examine you.”
“Doc usually examines her in this chair. She doesn’t want to sit on the table. She’s not a child,” Mommy Dearest said.
“This is where I examine my patients.” I met her mother’s stare without wavering.
“Well, she’s not getting that ridiculous Q-tip shoved down her throat,” her mother grumbled. “She doesn’t like it.”
“I get that. I don’t think anybody really likes it, if I’m being honest.” I patted the examination table for Carrie, and she handed her mom the drink and wiped her mouth before standing. She walked over and hopped up to sit on the table.
I’d won a small battle, and I’d take it.
“So do something else,” her mother said.
“If there were other options, I’d be happy to offer them. But everyone gets swabbed when we suspect strep throat. And I’m fairly certain not a single person enjoys it.” I listened to Carrie’s chest and asked her to take a few deep breaths.
“Did we get her temperature?” I asked Petra. I knew she’d had the altercation, but I wasn’t certain if she’d gotten her temperature before she’d been assaulted.
“Nope. She refused it and dug her nails into my wrist.” Petra glanced over at Carrie’s mother before showing Carrie and me her arm that had open nail marks on it.
“So, we’ve got a few options here, and I’ll let you choose.” I looked at the young girl sitting in front of me. Her shoulders were tense, and it was clear that she was so used to fighting that most people probably just backed down because it wasn’t worth the fight.
I wasn’t going to do that.
