Outpatient treatment

hospital corricdor

The emergency room was bustling, and Anthony had a hazy memory of two attendants transferring him to a soft recliner in a quiet cubicle. The cast on his leg felt strange. A tall nurse opened a sliding drape, “The doctor said you should sit up and rest for a while. The anesthesia will wear off soon, and then you can go home. Lean your head back now. I’ll dim the lights. Take a little nap if you like.”

He complied, and a short time later awoke with a tingling sensation in his encased limb. A powerful aroma of coffee and bacon cooking somewhere made his mouth water. His stomach gurgled. He licked his lips and thought, “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”

A fellow with a neatly trimmed beard and wearing blue surgical scrubs stopped outside the doorway to Anthony’s little cell. A shout came from somewhere down the hall and the man in scrubs put both hands on his hips, shook his head, and said to someone out of sight, “You think that you’re so clever Monica. Don’t you?”

“Shut up doctor sex maniac.” A female voice responded. “I caught you both with my smartphone. My lawyer will have fun with the photos. You can kiss your career and bank fat account good-bye.”

A nurse with beautiful blonde hair and an Apple phone in her hand, came into his room. She stepped toward Anthony’s chair, turned, and checked a monitor. Satisfied, she glanced at her patient.  “Good morning Anthony. You’re awake, can I get you anything?”

“I’d love a lawyer. No. I mean, oh lord, a cup of coffee please. Black, no sugar.”


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