Page 63 of Mafia Underboss

“I love you too, Iz.”

I head out the door to start my new life.

∞∞∞

“Grab that right there. Now bring it over here. I’m going to let you handle this one.”

Dr. Fields has been letting me be hands on all morning. I didn’t expect it. I thought the first couple of weeks would be more lectures or shadowing. Instead, when I got here this morning, she put me right to work.

“Okay, Mr. Johnson. Mia here is going to lance this cyst for you then dress it up. It might hurt a little bit, but we’re going to numb it first.”

I don’t understand why I need to know how to lance a cyst, but I’m not going to complain. I’m eager to learn all I can from her.

She steps to the side as I come over to the man. He’s lying on his stomach without a shirt. Mr. Johnson’s an older gentleman, and the wrinkles on his back make the cyst look bigger.

Dr. Fields hands me a syringe. She smiles in encouragement. Before we walked in here, she explained the procedure we were doing. She wanted me to be prepared. I took notes in my notebook, but I can’t pull it out now. My heart is beating in my chest as I think about the fact that I’m going to work on this man without a degree. Not that he knows it, but I do, and it makes me nervous.

I stick the needle into his back, right next to the cyst. He hisses a little in pain as I slowly press the stopper in to administer the fentanyl.

“Okay, Mr. Johnson, we’re going to wait a couple of minutes for the numbing medicine to kick in. Why don’t you tell me about your daughter?”

I encourage him to talk as I press the area around the cyst. He rattles on, telling me all about his daughter and his grandchildren. It’s obvious he loves them very much. I answer when appropriate, letting him talk away.

After a couple of minutes, I take a clean needle and probe the area around the cyst. When he shows no reaction, I turn to look at Dr. Fields. She’s been watching me from the side but hasn’t said a word. Now she nods in encouragement.

“Keep talking, Mr. Johnson. I’m just going to lance this. Let me know if anything hurts.”

He continues to prattle on as I grab the scalpel on the tray beside me. I pick up a gauze in my other hand and press the gauze below the cyst while I pose the scalpel above the cyst. I take two deep breaths before I press it to his skin. I watch as the mass cuts apart and ooze puss out. I catch it with the gauze while I set the scalpel down on the second tray, the one meant for used tools. Mr. Johnson hasn’t changed his tone as he continues to talk.

I probe the open wound, trying to push out as much of the puss as possible. I grab another stack of gauze and press it to the wound while I discard the first set on the second tray. I continue to do this until the wound is no longer full of puss.

I’m trying to remember the next step when Dr. Fields steps forward and hands me a long strip of what looks like paper, but it’s thinner and smells weird.

Antibiotic packing strip. Dr. Fields said I needed to warn him it might hurt.

“Okay, Mr. Johnson, you’re doing so well. I love hearing all about your family. Keep going. I just want to let you know this part might hurt a bit, but it will be over soon.”

“You go on, darling. This old man can handle a bit of pain,” he says before he starts talking about his newborn grandson.

I take the cotton swab from the tray and use it to gently press the packing gauze into the wound. It isn’t until I’m almost done that I become aware of a slight change in Mr. Johnson’s voice.

“Are you okay, Mr. Johnson?”

“Yep, a little uncomfortable is all. I’ll be okay once you’re done.”

I hurry up then, trying to finish to avoid causing him pain. Once done, I clip the extra packing gauze then turn to look at Dr. Fields. She nods her acceptance, and I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. I did it right. I can do this.

“Before you dress the wound, I want to bring your daughter in, Mr. Johnson. She will need to dress your wounds until I see you back in ten days.”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

It takes only minutes before Dr. Fields brings the young woman into the room.

“This is Mia. She’s my associate. She will show you how to dress the wound.”

“Why do you go by Mia instead of doctor?” the woman asks, suspicious.

I feel a slight panic but decide to tell the truth, or close to it.

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