Sammi's World

Doctor Sammi?

Since Sam got hurt on the Thanksgiving Day hunt, Dad and Marissa requested we stay overnight and take him to be seen by a professional the next morning. Dean and I agreed that would be the best thing for him, even though Sam insisted he would be fine. "I'm not a doctor, baby," I argued with him. "Yes, I stitched you up. Yes, it looks damned near perfect. You still need to see an actual doctor to make sure it isn't infected." "Alright, alright," Sam gave in. "I don't want to fight." "No one is trying to fight with you, Sammy," Dean said. "You're usually the logical one. This should have been a no brainer." "Why don't we all just get some sleep?" Dad suggested. "Sam and Sammi can take the big bedroom off the living room here. Dean, you can take the guest bedroom that is up the stairs and to your left." "It's been a long day," I agreed. "I think sleep is what we all need right now." "We'll see you all in the morning before you head out," Marissa said. "Your dad and I will cook up some breakfast for you." "That sounds great," Dean said. "Thanks for your hospitality." "We're basically family," Dad told him. "You're welcome anytime. Good night all." The two of them made their way up the stairs, leaving me and the boys to fend for ourselves. Dean looked at me and said, "Get him to bed. It's been a rough day for all of us, but more so for Sam." "I'll take good care of him," I said with a smile. Dean gave me and Sam each a hug and made his way up to his bed for the night. "Thank you again for stitching me up, sweetie," Sam said. "And for not freaking out that I got hurt." "I can't freak out every time you guys come home hurt," I told him. "It's a risk you take with the job you have. I'm not alright with that, but I can accept it now." "Have I told you I love you recently?" Sam asked, smiling. "Every day," I smiled back. "Now let's get you to bed, shall we?" We found our way to the downstairs guest bedroom, crawled into bed, and fell asleep in each other's arms (yes, we do that A LOT). The next morning we awoke to the smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. We walked hand in hand out of the room and into the dining room, where Dean was already digging in (no surprise there). "Sit down," Dad said. "Indulge. There's plenty for everyone. Would you guys like some coffee? Tea? Juice?" "I'll take an orange juice," I told him. "Coffee for me, please," Sam said. Dad disappeared into the kitchen and came back moments later with our beverages. "Everything looks amazing, Dad," I said. "You guys really went all out." "Are you kidding me?" he replied. "Marissa lives for company. She loves to cook, but when it's just the two of us, she can't really go all out like this." Sam and I filled our plates up with some food and ate until we were full. After Dad and Marissa had cleaned up, it was time for us to go, with a stop at the local hospital of course. There were hugs, a few tears, lots of thank yous, and an invite to come back any time we wanted. The boys and I waved as we pulled away, and it was off to find the nearest medical facility. Dean followed the signs for about twenty minutes, then dropped Sam and me off by the front door while he went to park. When we got inside, we signed in at the desk and took a seat in the waiting room. It was only a matter of minutes before a doctor showed up and called Sam to follow him to an exam room. Sam grabbed my hand and we walked down the hallway, around the corner, and into the examination room. I took a seat next to the exam table as Sam was hoisting himself up onto the table. The doctor asked, "So what brings you in to see us today?" Sam pulled up his shirt sleeve, removed the tape and the gauze, and showed the doctor his wound. "I see," the doctor said. "What happened? And who did the stitch work?" "I was attacked and slashed with a knife," Sam told him. "My fiance over there cleaned the wound, sterilized it, and stitched it up." "That's some pretty precise stitching," the doctor said to me. "Did you go to school for medicine?" "Teaching, actually," I told him. "I used to do needlework with my grandmother, though." "She taught you well," he said. "The wound looks clean, there's no sign of infection, and there's no doubt in my mind that the stitches will hold up properly. Just change the dressing every other day, keep it clean, and you'll be good as new in no time." "Thank you so much, doctor," Sam said. "Don't thank me," the doctor told him. "Thank your brilliant fiance for her quick thinking." He then turned to me and said, "If you ever decide to go back to school, think about changing your major. You'd make a great doctor." "I appreciate the compliment," I told him. After the doctor left the room, I turned to Sam and said, "You ready to go home now, sweetie?" "I was ready last night, but SOMEONE wouldn't let me go without coming here," he said with a wink. "I wasn't the only one," I reminded him, smiling. We walked back out to the waiting room, where Dean was sitting reading a magazine. He looked up at us and said, "Everything good?" "The doctor said Sammi here should be a doctor," Sam told him. "He said the wound looked clean, no sign of infection, and she did an amazing stitch job." "Is that so?" Dean looked at me. "Dr. Sammi, huh?" "Yeah," I said. "Not happening." The three of us laughed as we walked out to the car, hopped in, and once again followed the scenic route all the way home.