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AS DELILAH ENTERED ROOM 2250 WITH DR BAILEY, she grinned at the patient lying on the bed. The man looked to be in his late twenties, and he was quite the good-looking fellow.
Wait. Good-looking? Delilah Love, you better stop that right now.
Whilst the brunette was lost in her thoughts, Dr Bailey read the man's chart. "Thought I told you I never wanted to see you again," she said.
The man's reply was immediate. "That's only because you're too lazy to learn anything more," he cheesed.
Dr Bailey huffed out a laugh before introducing the man. "This is Dr Delilah Love, Jeremiah Tate. Thinks he knows so much because he was one of my first patients as an intern."
"I knew as much as she did," Jeremiah piped up. "She was clueless about how to treat cystic fibrosis. A simple cholecystectomy turned into a month-long stay."
Dr Bailey hummed. "You better not be alleging malpractice," she joked.
Delilah wiggled her eyebrows at the two as she watched them interact. "You must be someone special, eh, Mr Tate? Dr Bailey doesn't joke around with anyone," she grinned.
"Of course, I am, Dr Love. I was the patient who made her who she is today. I'm still doing that right now," Jeremiah responded and shot her a beaming smile.
Dr Bailey scoffed. "No, you're not. You're the patient who was a pain in my ass. Still are."
As she filled in Jeremiah's chart, Dr Bailey continued speaking. "Guy raises about 100 grand a year for cystic fibrosis running triathlons. Thinks he's some big shot," she explained.
Delilah raised her eyebrows, impressed. "You run triathlons?" she asked.
"Why not?" Jeremiah shot back.
Dr Bailey was not impressed. "Pain, for one. It says here you're finally admitting to feeling a little," she said, reading from the chart.
"A little," the man nodded.
Dr Bailey moved to stand by him. "How little?" she questioned. "Truth," she added, knowing the brunette man would downplay the pain he was feeling.
"Well, enough to keep me awake at night," he confessed. "Had some seizures. Uhm... Too weak to work out."
Dr Bailey continued with the examination. "Anyone been through here with your CT results?" she asked.
Jeremiah shook his head. "No... It's probably just my pancreatitis kicking up again," he sighed.
"All right, then," Dr Bailey said, patting his leg as she walked away, now finished with the exam. "We'll be back. With your results and a plan," she promised.
"Where do your parents think you are this time?" the African-American doctor asked him.
