Chapter 14 - The Room Smelled Like Clean Paper
The clinic was cold in the way I remembered. The bright light made my eyes blink. Dad held my hand when we walked in, and my bear was tucked under my other arm. His fur was flat in one spot where I had held him too much. Mom in the front had a new clip board and she smiled at me like she knew me.
Dad told her my birthday and my name. His voice did not shake that day. He had the blue folder with him with all my papers inside. He kept it flat against his leg so it would not bend.
"It is the last check, right?" he said to her.
She nodded. "Room two. He will be right in."
The exam room had the same paper on the bed that made a crunchy sound. Dad lifted me up and sat close beside me on the rolling stool. He put his watch hand on the bed so I could touch it if I wanted. I held my bear in my lap. The bear's ear was damp from the parking lot rain.
Dr. Harris knocked one time and came in. He still had his glasses and his white coat. He washed his hands at the sink for a long time.
"Well, Ellie," he said. "Let's see how hard you healed."
He pulled his little light close. He cut the edge of the gauze with blunt scissors that did not touch me. The tape made a small pulling sound. I breathed in fast through my nose.
Dad leaned in. "You okay? You want to squeeze my finger?"
I nodded and squeezed. The gauze came off for good. The air felt cool where it had been. The skin under it was pink and shiny and a little wrinkly. It did not look like the rest of my arm.
Dr. Harris did not hurry. He looked with his eyes first, then touched around the edge very light with two fingers. He moved my arm a little to see how the skin pulled.
"Does this hurt?" he asked.
"A little," I said. "Like stretching."
"That is normal," he said to Dad. "No infection. No graft needed. It healed clean from the edges."
Dad let out a breath I could feel. "Thank God," he said quiet.
The doctor put some plain lotion on with a cotton swab. It was cool. He showed Dad how much to use. Just a thin layer. Then he talked about the sun while he wrote.
"This pink skin will burn fast," he said. "Keep it covered outside. When it is out, sunscreen every day, even when it is cloudy. Reapply if she is in water. Watch for blistering or fever, but I do not expect it."
Dad nodded and repeated it back. "Thin lotion, sunscreen, covered. Got it."
A woman with short dark hair came in with a folder. She said she was from the family team. I had seen her before. She did not wear a white coat. She sat on the small chair and opened her papers.
"Mark, we have your follow-ups logged," she said. "Clinic visits kept. Safety plan followed. Water heater set. Thermometer use noted. Vanessa's class enrollment confirmed."
Dad sat up straighter. "She is going. She missed one shift for work but she made it up."
"Yes, we have that," the woman said. She made a check mark. "I am closing the safety plan as compliant today. That means you did what was asked. Records stay, but no further visits unless something new comes up."
Dad looked at me, then at her. "Thank you for checking on her. I mean that."
He shook her hand and then Dr. Harris's hand. He put the new discharge papers in the blue folder and zipped it shut. His hands were careful with the edges.
At the end Dr. Harris opened a drawer with stickers. Stars and dogs and one shiny rainbow. I picked the rainbow. He stuck it on my shirt, not on my arm.
I held my bear up to him. "He was good too," I said.
May you like
Dr. Harris smiled and listened to the bear's chest with his stethoscope. He nodded serious. "Strong heartbeat," he said. "He took good care of you."
Dad lifted me down off the paper. My shoes hit the floor loud. The folder was under his arm and my hand was in his. My arm felt light without the gauze.
