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Good Bedside Manner - 1
🕑 Added 2023-09-11 16:00:03 +0000 UTCThis is the first chapter of a doctor/patient story I've been noodling on for a bit. I'm expecting it to be somewhere between 4 and 6 parts, swapping perspectives between the two characters. You can expect this one to be very sweet.
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It was 5:27 on a Friday and Hector was certain his day would never end. He had actually expected to have the day off, but his colleague had called out with a cold (fucking Angela—he knew she was headed on a trip to the mountains for the weekend and definitely wasn’t sick) so he’d had to field frantic calls at five in the morning begging him to come in and see to Angela’s patients. Some part of him wanted to ignore the calls, or stand up for himself and remind them that they’d all been required to complete a two-hour training on preventing burnout… but he knew they were understaffed (and wasn’t everyone these days?), and he felt some sympathy for the patients who would have to have their appointments rescheduled and the receptionists who would have to make all those cancellation calls.
So here he was, about to see his (or, really, Angela’s) final patient of the day, hoping it would be over quickly. He spoke with the nurse and got a little more information about the patient before he walked in the door: sprained ankle, nothing else out of the ordinary. He knocked on the examination room door and waited until he heard a voice behind it say, “Come in!”
He wasn’t expecting to be put off-balance as soon as he walked in. This patient—Nayeli—was beautiful.What he could see of her, anyway. She was wearing two layers of masks over her face: an ugly, functional one covered by a lovely yellow cloth mask that matched the flowers her dress. She was dressed a little too nicely for a doctor’s visit, and looked out of place perched on the exam table. The yellow dress hugged her at her natural waist, mostly hiding the soft belly sitting in her lap, but doing nothing to hide the thick curves of her thighs spreading to either side of her. She was wearing a forest green cardigan that would’ve been more appropriate for church—hiding her arms and trying to look modest, most likely. That was probably why the neckline of her dress was so high, too, he realized. Her sandals were simple red leather, the straps criss-crossing slightly square, chubby feet. Her toenails were painted a bubblegum pink. She’d done her long black hair in two simple, thick braids that hung down to her waist. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and she fidgeted a little, trying to baby her ankle.
Hector gave a smile and a hello, introduced himself as Dr. Castillo, and admonished himself for having such unprofessional thoughts as he sat down on the rolling stool in the room meant for himself and the other general practitioners in a way he was sure was awkward. He blinked hard once he rolled himself over to the screen where he could look at Nayeli’s chart, doing his best to focus on the key details the nurse had jotted down. Age: 27. Vitals normal. Swelling in the ankle after a fall. He tried not to (or at least, he wished he could say he’d tried), but he of course glanced at her weight: 276 pounds. Fuck.
He turned to look at her and felt his nervousness growing, even as he slipped into his usual cheery doctor persona. “So, it looks like you’re here because you had a bit of a fall?”
She gave a little laugh. Even muffled by her masks, her voice was precious, more high-pitched and girlish than he’d expected. “Just a little one. I wasn’t going to come in, but the swelling started to get bad enough that I figured it was worth getting it checked out.” He could tell she was doing her best to be both sweet and authoritative, trying to endear herself to him as a doctor while also trying to ensure she actually got the help she came for. Enough empathy pierced through the haze of lust in his brain to make him understand that was why she was all dolled up, and wearing whatever she could to minimize her size; she didn’t want to go home still in pain with a diagnosis of “fat.”
That made him collect himself. He was being a lecher, in a completely uncharacteristic way. He’d never had feelings like this about a patient before. (But then again, he’d also never had a patient who seemed ready-made to appeal to him.)
“I’m glad you came in. It’s always worth confirming there’s nothing broken, especially when there’s swelling like this. Can I—?” He rolled his stool toward her and reached toward her ankle, waiting for her permission. Even through his mask, he could smell her floral perfume. Jasmine? No—narcissus.
“Of course.” She lifted up her leg, wincing a little as the wrong muscles in her ankle flexed.
“I’ll be gentle,” he reassured her, delicately pressing his fingers into her ankle, checking for anything out of the ordinary, refusing to acknowledge to himself how soft she felt in his hands. “Can you rotate your ankle a bit for me?” She did, wincing a little, but not showing any extreme pain or lack of mobility. He gently let her ankle go.
“So, what’s the verdict, doc?” she asked, that exaggerated humor on display again to get on his good side.
“Well, the good news is, nothing’s broken. Keep weight off of it, ice it when you can, and try to keep it elevated as often as possible.”
She nodded, and he could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. “That’s really good news. I was a little worried it was going to be worse than that.”
“Well, worry no more. As long as you rest, you’ll heal up just fine.” He saw her shift back and forth, the paper on the exam table crinkling beneath her, clearly ready to go home and get comfortable. Selfishly, he wanted the appointment to continue. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask about? Since you’re here.”
“No, just the ankle today. Thank you so much for your help, Dr. Castillo, I really appreciate it.”
“Of course, happy to assist.” He stood and moved to stand near the door, before realizing she was having a little trouble getting down from the exam table, trying to get down on her good leg without her dress hiking up too much. “Do you need any help?” he offered.
“Actually, yes.” She sounded embarrassed. “Sorry, normally I’m not so clumsy.”
“Not clumsy at all. You’re hurt. It’s fine to need a little assistance.” He reached out a hand to her, and she took it. Her palm was soft, and a little damp with nervousness. She closed her fingers gingerly around his hand, doing her best not to hold on too tight. She made it to the floor without incident, adjusting her outfit.
They both headed toward the door together, Hector pulling it open for her. Poor Nayeli was limping pretty badly, and once again, he offered his help. “I can walk you back to the waiting room, if you’d like?” He offered his arm, feeling like a gallant prince in a novel.
“Thank you, but I’m okay. I probably look worse than I feel.”
He didn’t push it, but felt the loss of the opportunity to be close to her for another minute. “Alright. Good luck with your healing. Call the office if you feel like you need anything. They’ll get you set up with your usual GP.”
She nodded. “Thank you so much, I definitely will.”
He watched her make her way down the hallway for a moment, briefly mesmerized by the sway of her wide hips before he went to finish the last bits of paperwork he needed to complete before he could go home for the day.
