“Eat it.”
“I will,” I tell her, grabbing my next chart. “Let me get Mr. Fredrickson into his room and then I’ll share.”
She grins widely and turns her attention to Dr. Barnland, who is stepping out of Dr. Houston’s office. “We’ve got a physical for employment in Room 1, and there’s a sixteen-year-old with an abdominal rash in Room 2.”
The older woman with gray hair and a friendly smile nods. “Sounds good, thank you.”
“I’ll go get Mr. Fredrickson,” I state, following behind Dr. Barnland and slipping past as she knocks on the door for Room 1.
I say his name into the open waiting room, but already pick out who he is, considering there’s only one older man in the room at this moment. “Mr. Fredrickson?”
“That’s me,” the gentleman says, standing up and walking to where I stand.
“How are you today, Mr. Fredrickson?”
“Fine as frog hair,” he replies with a cheesy grin, making me smile.
“Well, that’s good. We’ll stop at the scale and then head into exam Room 3.”
“One hundred seventy-two.”
I look at the older gentleman curiously. “What’s that?”
“My weight. One hundred seventy-two,” he states with a decisive nod. “And my blood pressure is one twenty over seventy.”
“Sounds like you keep good track,” I state, watching as he steps onto the scale.
One seventy-two.
I note that on his chart and point to the open door in the hallway. “Let’s step inside the room.”
I take his vitals, smiling when they’re exactly as he stated.
“Betcher wonderin’ how I knew all those numbers, huh?”
“Well, I can assume you take your health very seriously and regularly take your own vitals.”
He nods. “My wife. She was a nurse for forty-seven years. When we first got married, it started as a way for her to practice her trade. Then, over the years, it became a habit. It’s how she keeps her talons in me,” he states with a barky laugh. “I’m kiddin’, but she does enjoy utilizing her skills, even after she’s retired.”
“I bet she does,” I agree, writing the rest of his vitals in the chart. “Looks like you’re here for your annual blood work. Is there anything you specifically want to talk to Dr. Barnland about?”
“Yeah, I got something going on with my left foot. I was hoping she could take a look.”
“Can you take off your shoe and sock and let me see?” I ask.
“You don’t get grossed out easily, do you, girly?”
I smile. “No, sir.”
He does as requested and slowly takes off his shoe. The moment he removes the sock, I can see what the problem is. “What did your wife say about this?” I ask, slipping my hands into a pair of gloves.
“Oh, she had me cleaning it with peroxide, but figured an antibiotic would help.”
“I would agree,” I say, gently moving the red, swollen skin around his ingrown toenail. “I’m sure Dr. Barnland would be able to help. And the good news is, we have a podiatrist starting this week. Once you’ve had a round of antibiotics and gotten it cleaned up, we can get you in with them and have the ingrown part removed.”
“Yeah, I figured. I used to wear work boots back in the day for my job. My feet weren’t in the best of shape after fourteen hour days of being stuffed in a sweaty boot.”
“I bet not,” I reply with a little grin, writing everything down. “Leave the sock off. I’ll let the doctor know you’re here, and we can get that toe looked at. Then, I’ll do your labs and send you on your way.”
