Ryan tried to step around me to flee, but I stood in his way and boxed him into the corner. He was scared and upset, and I feared that too much moving around would just exacerbate it if anything was going on with his heart.
“Ryan, I’m concerned about your heart,” I explained as I wrapped my arms around him.
I held him against me for a few moments, hoping that it would calm him down. I know that physical contact calms him, and I was desperate to calm him so I could get him to the emergency room.
“My heart is fine,” he mumbled.
“We’re going to go have the doctors check.”
“We don’t need to. It’s fucking expensive to go to the emergency room.”
“Ryan, I don’t care. You are mine to care for.”
He stopped arguing and trying to get out of the trip to the hospital. I kissed his sweaty forehead and told him to sit down while I got his clothes. I still tried to keep my movements from looking so rushed and panicked, but I was in a hurry.
While I was in the walk-in closet, I pulled on my pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I grabbed clothes for Ryan and took them to him, then I went back for our shoes. Less than ten minutes later we were walking into the emergency room.
“What brings you in this evening?” the desk nurse asked as I approached.
“Numb left hand,” I began and then added that I was concerned about his heart.
Anytime you mentioned the word ‘heart,’ they take on a different protocol. Which is exactly what I wanted. They took us back immediately and as two other nurses began going through a series of questions and removing his shirt, I stood at the foot of his bed with the front desk nurse. I had Ryan’s wallet and was able to help the nurse get the paperwork started. I gave her his insurance card, driver’s license, and my credit card to run for the co-pay.
In the background, they began the electrocardiogram. I watched his pulse beep and glide along the monitor. They took his blood pressure a few times; all came back on the high side. An emergency room doctor monitored him for a bit and ruled out a possible heart attack, but they wanted to find out the cause of the numbness. To be safe, they wanted to do a nuclear test and get some images of his heart. But before the doctor injected the dye, he brought something else to light that I hadn’t given any thought to, though it made sense.
“Mr. Hudson, being a physician, when certain things catch our eyes it is our duty to ask some questions,” the doctor began and looked at me. “Do you mind if your friend is here while I ask you some personal questions?” the doctor asked Ryan.
Ryan looked shell shocked and he really had no idea how personal these questions were going to get. I kicked myself for not having thought of this and preparing him on the ride over. He had no idea what was coming.
“Yeah, he can stay,” Ryan told the doctor.
I’m sure he probably thought the doctor was going to begin digging into his sexual health or habits. No, it was another kind of invasive style of questions.
“Ryan, I’m sure you’re aware that your back has several strap-like marks on them,” the doctor began. Ryan’s face and neck became red and his pulse sped up. “How did those happen?”
“I was flogged. It’s from a flogger.” Ryan’s voice was hoarse but he tried clearing it. “I asked for it.”
“Okay, so it was consensual?” the doctor asked for clarification.
“Yes. I’m—” Ryan began but faltered. I wanted to step in and speak for him to help him, but I knew that would only look worse.
“Ryan, it’s okay to tell him. He’s a doctor and has seen this before,” I spoke directly to Ryan rather than address the doctor and talk on Ryan’s behalf.
“I’m into some kinky stuff,” Ryan began. I knew in that moment that Ryan second guessed everything that I have been trying to tell him is okay to like.
“It’s alright, Ryan. I’m not here to judge, but simply to make sure that you’re not in an unhealthy situation where you’re being hurt, or things are being done to you against your will or consent,” the doctor reassured him.
“No. I’m not in a bad situation at all,” Ryan confirmed.
The doctor nodded and didn’t say another word about it. He took hold of Ryan’s arm that had the I.V. in it.
“This will take about thirty to forty minutes for your heart to absorb the dye. You might notice that it’ll feel cool, but it won’t hurt,” the doctor explained before he injected the dye that was in his arm. “Just lie back and relax. I’ll be back to get you for the images.”
I sat down on the stool with wheels on it and looked at Ryan. His bed was in the middle of a high traffic area of the emergency room and right beside the nurse station. I felt better knowing the help was a short step away.
“Doing okay, Ryan?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Aside from being here.”
