Lucky. Right.
"He lost a significant amount of blood," Dr. Marchetti continues. "But not enough to require a transfusion. His body will replenish it on its own over the next few weeks."
I nod. Keep nodding. Like a bobblehead that can't stop.
"I've cleaned and sutured the wound. Changed the dressing. He's stable for now."
"For now?"
"The next forty-eight hours are critical." Dr. Marchetti sets his bag on my kitchen counter. Opens it. Starts pulling out supplies. "Infection is the biggest risk. Gunshot wounds are dirty. Even with antibiotics, there's always a chance."
He lines up bottles and packages on my counter. Gauze. Medical tape. Pills in orange bottles. A small vial of clear liquid.
"These are antibiotics." He taps one bottle. "Two pills, twice a day, with food. Don't skip doses."
I grab a notepad from my junk drawer. Start writing.
"These are for pain." Another bottle. "One pill every six hours as needed. They'll make him drowsy. That's normal."
I write faster.
"The wound needs to be cleaned and redressed every twelve hours. I'll show you how before I leave." He holds up the gauze. "Keep it dry. No showers for at least a week. Sponge baths only."
Sponge baths.
I'm going to give Dante Castellani sponge baths.
The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh.
"Watch for signs of infection," Dr. Marchetti says. "Increased redness around the wound. Swelling. Discharge that's yellow or green. Fever above 101. If you see any of those, call me immediately."
He hands me a card. Plain white. Just a phone number.
"Any time," he says. "Day or night."
I take the card. Add it to my notes.
"He shouldn't move for at least three days. After that, short walks to the bathroom. Nothing strenuous for at least two weeks." Dr. Marchetti closes his bag. "He'll want to push it. Don't let him."
Don't let him.
Like I have any control over what Dante does.
"Questions?" Dr. Marchetti asks.
A thousand. A million.
Why did he come here? Why my door? Why after two years of nothing?
But those aren't questions for the doctor.
"How long until he wakes up?" I ask instead.
"A few hours. Maybe longer. His body needs rest." Dr. Marchetti picks up his bag. "When he does wake up, keep him calm. No sudden movements. And make sure he drinks water. Lots of it."
I write it down. Water. Lots.
"I'll check on him in two days," Dr. Marchetti says. "Unless you call before then."
