Page 5 of The Road Home
"No insurance or anything like that?"
"No."
"Okay, that keeps it simple. When you leave, Patricia will help you get set up for our insurance program. That way you won't have to worry about a large bill." He pulled on a pair of gloves. "So what happened?"
"I got beat up." Orson still didn't look up at the doctor, worried he'd push for more information and find out about the rape.
"We'll get x-rays of your arm, but first, I want to clean up the cuts and stitch them up. This looks infected. How long ago did it happen?" The doctor gently lifted his chin and looked at the wide gash.
"Two days maybe."
"Why did you wait to come in?" Dr. Gains reached for a small tray that was beside the exam table and moved it closer to the chair where Orson sat. "Tell me all your injuries while I look at the one on your chin."
Orson shifted, uncomfortable in the hard chair he sat on. "Um, chin, arm, you can see the smaller cuts on my face and arms. I think I've got a bruised rib, but it's not bad. I've had worse."
Dr. Gains narrowed his eyes. "This happens often?"
"More than I like," Orson whispered. "I'm small, and on the streets…."
"How long have you been homeless?"
"Three years. I was in Arizona, but just moved up here."
"Too hot down there for you?" Dr. Gains smiled.
"No, too crowded. Not enough resources. I was hoping to get in a program here, but I hear they are changing them all and it's harder to do anything now. I wish I'd known that before I came here."
"What kind of program?" Dr. Gains used something cold on his chin.
Orson flinched back.
"Sorry, should have warned you. I'm just cleaning it up."
"I just didn't expect it." Orson took a breath to try and steady his nerves. "I was hoping to get a job or even some kind of housing. Now, I don't know what to do. Maybe head to Denver."
"Ah, don't give up. They are opening more resources here quickly. Utah might be your best chance once they get them set up."
"Until then, I keep having this happen." He shifted again, trying to take the weight off his ass.
"Did you report this to the police?"
Orson laughed. "Seriously? What are they going to do about a homeless guy being beat up, probably by other homeless guys? It's not worth the effort."
Dr. Gains sat back. "An attack is an attack, especially one this bad." The doctor took a deep breath. "There's more that happened, isn't there?"
"I don't know what you mean." Orson again focused on his shoes.
"The way you're shifting. Either a problem with your hips or upper legs, but I'm guessing you would have mentioned something like that, so I am assuming you were—"
Orson's gaze flashed up to the doctor's. "It's not a big deal. I'm fine."
"If it hurts to just sit, everything might not be fine, not to mention the risk of diseases and other things. I'll order some blood work to check on that, but you'll have to be retested—"
"I know the routine." Orson was losing his patience. The last thing he needed was the sympathy he saw in the doctor's eyes. "I just need my arm fixed, other than that, it will all heal."
"Actually, your arm is the least of my worries. For only being two days old, this cut on your chin is pretty infected. I'm going to suggest a trip to the hospital for some IV antibiotics, so it doesn't get worse. The last thing you want is for it to get into your mouth, teeth, or any other part of your face."
"No, no hospital. I can't." Orson went to stand.
