Broken Ice

Chapter 6

Chantelle

"Alright, Ms. Perez. I will get your paperwork together. I am glad you are feeling better. Remember to come back if your pain starts to increase or you aren't feeling better."

The middle-aged woman looks at me with a warm smile, thanking me for her care. Ms. Perez is a sweet lady who has regaled me with tales of her beloved cats every time I come to check on her. She's one of those genuinely kind people who never met a person she didn't like or a stray cat she couldn't resist taking in. The best part of my job is when I can make an immediate impact on those like Ms. Perez.

Unfortunately, people often mistake ER doctors for the surgeons from Grey's Anatomy. It's perplexing the number of people who believe I possess the power to unravel every ailment in the span of a mere hour- commercial breaks not included. I hate to shatter that glamorous illusion but the reality of the emergency room is a far cry from the theatrics of television. For the majority of patients who come in, the drama unfolds with far less flair than they have been led to believe. Despite the occasional television-worthy case, my life is much less exciting.

"Colin, I'm going to give Ms. Perez her first dose of antibiotics and then she will be going home." Pulling up to stop and talk to the nurse at his station, I place the chart on his desk. "Let me know if there are any issues."

"Thank you. Will do!" Colin grabs the chart and starts fidgeting with it.

Already halfway down the hall, I turn again at the sound of my name.

"Hey, Dr. Travis."

"Yeah."

"Have you really seen a lot of foreign bodies where they aren't supposed to be?" Colin's cheeks flame red as his eyes are transfixed to the floor.

I can't help but laugh. "Absolutely, Colin. Different strokes for different folks. I prefer to call it job security. Just wait a few years, and you'll be the life of the party with all your wild tales from the ED."

His eyes are still studying the floor tiles when I walk back to the front desk. The steady beep of the monitors filters into the hallway drawing attention to the thud of my footfalls.

"Now," Amber's voice cascades through the air as she leans dramatically against my desk, her gaze piercing. "I can't help but feel that our hockey friend wasn't the only one who found it hard to focus in that room. Am I right, Dr. Travis?"

"What are you going on about?" I shoot her a bewildered glance, my expression a careful mask of confusion, silently hoping she takes the bait.

"There is just something alluring about all those rippling muscles. And oh those icy eyes, they don't merely look at you but they seem to pierce right through you. Don't you think?"

"Amber, are you really swooning over our patient? Come on!" I pivot back to my computer, hoping to divert the conversation from that captivating hockey player. "He struck me as a bit confused, slow even. I was wondering if I should evaluate him for a potential head injury. Perhaps it's simply that he's taken one too many of those balls, I mean pucks, to the head. It's tough to ignore all those studies on concussion and their long-term effects on the brain." I realize that I am being evasive, silently hoping she would let it go.

She coughs and then starts laughing in earnest.

"Seriously," she stands tall and tugs on my chair. "Are you really trying to tell me that you did not find that gorgeous man in there the least bit attractive? I thought sure I caught you staring a little bit too long at those crystal blue eyes."