The Sick and Injured

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The door closed behind him with a soft click. I immediately glared at Mel.

"Mr. Yummy?" I exclaimed. "You really had to call him Mr. Yummy to his face?" My cheeks were still burning from embarrassment. This was just another thing Tyson could add to his little "Noah's Fumbling Moments" list, which was growing rapidly.

Mel gave me a sheepish grin then stepped out of the way, giving Dr. Greenburg access to the cut on my chin. She sprayed some sort of disinfectant on it, causing it to sting fiercely.

"I said I was sorry. It just slipped out." Mel bent over to pick her bag up off the floor, placing it on the empty bed beside her before swinging herself up to perch on the edge of it. With the black pencil skirt she was wearing, it was quite a feat. The material rode dangerously up her thighs, but she yanked it back into place and crossed one leg over the other. "But oh my, you weren't kidding when you were gushing about him in my office the other day. Yummy doesn't even begin to cover it."

I made a noise of indignation in the back of my throat that ended on a hiss as the doctor began cleaning the cut. "I was not gushing," I said, trying to move my lips as little as possible. "I was merely describing his appearance to you. In an entirely objective manner."

Dr. Greenburg moved so I could no longer see Mel, but her snort was audible. "Sweetie, objective parties don't use "tall, dark and yummy" as their opening line."

Done cleaning my cut, Dr. Greenburg peeled the edges of the bandage away and pressed it against my chin. Her smile told me she was holding back laughter.

"Whatever," I grumbled, not able to think of a suitable comeback. I shifted in my seat, causing several sharp pains to flare to life in my back and shoulder. I halted abruptly, breathing shallowly and leaning to my left ever so slightly in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain without alerting either woman to the fact that I was hiding something. It seemed to help some.

"Objectively speaking or not, that boy is definitely good looking," Dr. Greenburg said, peeling off a set of disposable gloves and tossing them into the special medical trash receptacle on her right. "And he also gets bonus points for giving the guy who was pounding on you a good hiding."

I arched an eyebrow at her, ignoring the lingering twinges and throbbing ache. "And here I thought doctors didn't condone violence."

She gave me a sad smile, gently touching the left side of my face. "And I thought men weren't supposed to beat women, yet you sit in front of me now."

I sighed. The doctor definitely had a good point. She turned from me to her computer, typing in a few notes. "Right. I need you to scooch forward for me," she said without looking up.

"Why?" I asked. "Haven't you finished looking me over?"

She nodded. "I had. Until you moved slightly in your seat and you grimaced visibly. Is it your shoulder or your back?" she asked, giving me a knowing look.

I gaped at her, equal parts annoyed and impressed. "Both actually," I admitted reluctantly. "But it's nothing to worry about. Just a few bruises. I'm good to go, doc."

Dr. Greenburg cast a questioning glance to Mel, who in turn narrowed her eyes at me dangerously. "Either you move your butt forward on your own or I come over there and make you. Choose wisely."

Fifteen minutes later we were leaving the medical clinic after a thorough examination of the remaining injuries I had tried to keep in the dark. Dr. Greenburg had ordered me to bed rest for the next twenty four hours and had also crossed out my original prescription for Tylenol, replacing it with a higher dosage painkiller to help with the various aches and pains. She'd proclaimed my back and right shoulder to be badly bruised, and Mel had gasped at the colourful state both were in. Unable to see it for myself, I had listened as Dr. Greenburg ran her fingers ever so gently across the surface of my skin, telling me what shade of purple lay under her touch. After hearing that, I wasn't sure I wanted to see the state of my back. My stomach had a nice sized bruise on it as well, the centre a rich purple, the edges tinged an angry red. Although that one looked a lot worse than it felt. It was hardly giving me any grief at all. She also disinfected my scraped palms, picking out the little bits of gravel stuck under the skin. Surprisingly, this hurt the most, the stinging making me complain and moan like a big baby.

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