Page 2 of Stone Vows

I shake my head knowing we’re all just one bad circumstance away from being in his worn and battered shoes.

John hands me his chart. Willie James is the name written at the top. “Mr. James has a ten-centimeter laceration on his right shoulder that will require stitches. Says he fell down the stairs at the subway station. He also has some sores on his feet that I cleaned up, and he appears dehydrated which should come as no surprise.”

I do my assessment and look over his chart. Then I order a few tests to rule out diabetes. A lot of homeless people have sores on their feet, but if he’s diabetic, they could be life-threatening. “Also, hang a banana bag and hand me a suture kit. I can go ahead and stitch him up while I’m here.”

Now that Willie is cleaned up and getting hydrated, he’s more coherent.

“You look like my son,” he says.

“Really?” I ask, throwing in a stitch. “What does he do?”

He shrugs, making me have to pull the needle away. “Dunno,” he says. “Haven’t seen him in years. But I’d like to think that maybe he’s gone on to do something like you. Your father must be very proud of you, son.”

“I like to think he is,” I say.

By the time I’m done with him, I’ve learned a lot about the man, and we’ve had a good conversation. It’s amazing to me how people will open up to you if you just listen to them.

“Thank you, Dr. Stone,” he says, grabbing my hand to shake it. “Do you know you’re the only doctor who has ever treated me like a person and not an animal?”

I try not to show him pity. But I have a hard time not showing my anger over his statement. “If that’s true, it makes me ashamed to be called a doctor.”

“You are the future,” he tells me, before nodding at an attending walking past us. “Not them. They are old and set in their ways. You can change the world if you put your mind to it.”

I smile and nod my head. “I plan to, sir.”

He laughs, and then he looks at me like a proud father. “I don’t doubt you will, son.”

“I’ll check on you later, Mr. James. If your tests come back alright, you’ll be free to go in about an hour.”

I stand at the nurses’ station, making notes in his chart. I look over at Dr. Manning and watch him interact with another resident. Willie is right. He’s old and set in his ways. I vow never to become a bitter, empty soul like he has. Never to be so consumed with medicine that I forget why I’m here in the first place.

Gina swats me on the ass on her way by. She must have been paged here. She’s doing a rotation in the PICU now. But the week after next, we’ll be back working together again when we both start a four-week OB rotation.

Cameron, Gina and I are all emergency medicine residents. We spend most of our time in the ER, but we also rotate around to other areas. While it’s been fun to be largely on the same rotations as my friends, Cameron has no interest in doing a second rotation with ‘the vagina squad,’ as he likes to call it. We all had to do one our intern year and that was enough for him. Cameron chose plastics, while Gina and I have chosen OB as our second-year elective rotation.

Gina winks at me as she escorts a toddler on a gurney into the pediatric wing of the ER. I know that wink. It means she wants payback later. I check my watch. It’s almost ten o’clock. She’ll have to wait. It’s bound to be a long night. Saturday night tends to bring out the crazies. I watch her walk down the hall, her long legs striding next to the gurney. Her thick brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and I watch it bounce from side to side with each step she takes. I do love brunettes. Always have.

Over the next hour, I deal with several minor cases. Food poisoning. Puncture wound. Dislocated shoulder. By midnight, I’m able to clear Mr. James for discharge, happy to find out he most likely doesn’t have diabetes.

I walk into the ambulance bay, catching him on his way out. I’m glad to see that John has outfitted him in clothes from the lost and found. But I know shoes and socks are hard to come by. Especially socks, we’re not allowed to give out used pairs. I pull out my wallet and grab a few bills.

“Mr. James,” I call after him.

He turns around. “Willie,” he says. “You’ve earned the right to call me by my given name.”

“Thanks, Willie.” I hand him several twenties. “Take this. Buy some good socks and a new pair of shoes.”

He looks at what I’m handing him, clearly wanting to accept it, but possibly letting pride get in the way.

“Son, why are you giving your hard-earned money to an old man like me? A complete stranger.”

“You said it yourself, Willie. I want to change the world. Just figured I’d start with you.”

He shakes his head in bewilderment. Then he nods at me and I can tell he’s choking back tears. “It’ll be a slow ride if you plan on doing it one person at a time,” he says.

“That’s exactly how I plan to do it. Slow and steady wins the race,” I say, putting the money into his hand.

He grips my hand along with the money. “Son, you don’t know this yet, but you’ve already won.”

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