“Her husband.”
“Okay. Send them up here, then. We’ll do an ultrasound.”
I intercept Ms. Lopez and her husband on their way to the clinic. She’s using a walker and has a limping gait, which I would expect after a joint replacement, but her red, bulging lower limb sets off alarm bells in my head.
I talk to Grant in the hallway after I get her vitals and after the ultrasound is performed.
“It’s textbook,” I tell him. “Her skin’s red and hot to thetouch. Positive Homan’s sign. I could tell even without the ultrasound, but that confirms it.”
Grant drops his head. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and his skin has taken on a little pallor, like he was up for most of the night. Maybe I shouldn’t care about him, but a little twinge of sympathy squeezes my chest anyway. It’s unethical what residents are put through.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay.” He lets his hand fall. “I’ll talk to her and her husband. She’ll probably need to be admitted for observation. She’s got a lot of compounding diagnoses.”
He knocks softly at the door where we have her roomed, then pushes it open. Ms. Lopez’s eyes are wide. She’s tearful as her gaze darts over each of us in turn.
“Am I going to be okay?” She clutches her husband’s hand.
Grant squats down in front of her. “I’m Dr. Wyndham. I’m one of the residents who works with Dr. Fields.” He holds her gaze. “You’ll probably need further testing, but we think you have a blood clot,” he says. “Do you know what that is?”
She nods, her movements wooden. “Yes, I do.”
“Have you had any shortness of breath?”
She shakes her head.
“That’s good news, then. We might have to admit you to the hospital for more observation. You’ll get treatment, and we want to make sure you don’t develop further complications, which can be serious. I want to emphasize that it’s a good thing we found it. And it’s a great thing your PT called us.”
Her shoulders relax a little. She’s hanging onto Grant’s words. I find myself captivated by him as well. He’s being patient, and so gentle that if you’d told me in high school this is how Grant Wyndham would turn out I would have laughed in your face.
“Will your husband be able to stay with you?”
A hint of concern crosses her face. She glances at the man in question. “He has to work tomorrow.”
Grant looks at him, then back at Ms. Lopez. “Can he take off?”
I clear my throat. A wash of anger rises in my chest. “I think she’s worried because he might not have much sick time.”
“It’s okay,” her husband says quickly. “I’ll make it work.”
Grant’s cheeks redden. He’s been really sweet with her, to the point I would be swooning like an old Southern lady with the vapors, if I didn’t know him. But he’s clearly still the same as always, deep down. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to need money.
“What other questions do you have for me?” He’s still crouching down in front of her.
“Um.”—she looks at her husband, who squeezes her hand—“you said something about treatment?”
“Medicines, most likely, in addition to the observation.” He nods to her husband. “I know he’ll be with you for now, but is there anyone else you want us to call?”
She shakes her head.
“Okay. We’re going to take care of you. I’m going to make some calls so our inpatient staff know to expect you. And I’ll be checking up on you as well.”
She nods. “Thank you, Dr. Wyndham.”
When we’re back in the hallway, I look at him. “You managed to calm her down.”
“Don’t hurt yourself with the praise,” he says, smiling. “You look uncomfortable.”
“Yes, well. I wasn’t expecting it, is all.”
