The Birthday Surprise

Doc LaVigne sighed as she plopped down in a chair at the nurse's desk.  The emergency room had been busy that day.  Thank Goodness there hadn't been anything really life-threatening to deal with, but she'd seen every minor problem imaginable:  broken arms, sprains, strains, cuts, bruises, colds, flu, migraines, the list went on and on.    She was exhausted, and there were still two hours left before her shift was over.

A familiar sound caught her ear as the  paramedic's voice came over the radio.  Yet another patient was coming in.  For a moment, Doc's heart flip-flopped in anticipation.  What would it be this time?  Something exciting?

But the adrenaline rush was over almost as quickly as it had begun.  Male.  Early 30s.  Complaining of chest pain after wiping out while surfing.

Doc scoffed to herself.  Probably another over-the-hill, out of shape beach boy wannabe who'd bitten off more than he could chew.  She'd seen her share of those.  It was one of the perks of working - and living - so close to the beach.

A few moments later, she'd just finished stitching up a laceration when she heard the paramedics roll in with her newest patient.  She didn't even bother to look at the man's name on the paperwork as she entered the tiny room.

"Hello, there, I'm Doc LaVigne," she began her normal spiel, not yet lifting her eyes to look at her patient.  When she did, she was immediately struck by two things.  The man was neither over the hill nor out of shape.  And he had the most intense blue eyes she'd ever seen.

Doc sucked her breath in sharply.  The gasp was audible, but the man on the stretcher didn't seem to notice.  Quickly, like the professional she was, she recovered her composure and smiled.  She reached out her right hand.  "And you are...?"

"Max," he replied in a breathless half-whisper, wincing as he lifted his right arm to return the handshake.  "Max Harte."

"Nice to meet you, Max," she said softly, and the cynicism with which she entered the room was quickly replaced by empathy.  She hasn't missed the way he'd flinched with the slight movement.  "How's the pain?"

"It's not that bad," Max answered, though the look on his face said otherwise.  Doc chuckled to herself as she pondered her patient's distinct accent.  Was it British?  Australian?  She wasn't sure.  But it was nice. Very nice.

"We'll get you something in a little bit," she said reassuringly, as she sat down on a stool next to Max.  "You want to tell me what happened?"

"I was riding on a longboard," he replied, just a tad breathlessly, "when this huge wave came out of nowhere and whipped it out from under me.  The damn thing swung around and hit me in the chest."

"That had to hurt," she whistled softly as her eyes fell on his shirtless torso, flawless save for the abrasions that were already beginning to turn colors.  "And you're going to have some nasty bruises.  Any trouble breathing?"

"Not really," he said, though she didn't really believe him.

"Did you ever lose consciousness or swallow any water at all?" 

"Maybe a little, but I was able to right myself and make it to shore on my own."

"And no other injuries or problems that you know of?" she asked, as her eyes traveled appreciatively over her handsome patient's body.

"No," he said, his mouth curling into a grin as he caught the look on her face.  He was even more handsome when he smiled!

Doc felt the telltale heat creeping up her neck, and she stood up quickly.  "You mind if I take a listen?"

Max shrugged, the grin still firmly in place.  "You're the doctor."

Doc placed the stethoscope on his chest and listened, marveling internally at the irony; his pulse was strong and steady, while hers was slightly elevated.

"Can you sit up for me?" she asked.  In response, Max reached up to grip her right hand in his, and she slipped her left arm around his shoulders and gently helped him into an upright position.  Pain shot through his body and he hissed slightly, his teeth clenched.

"You okay?" she asked anxiously.  Max nodded wordlessly.  "I'm sorry; I'll make this quick."

She listened to his lungs.  His breathing rate was normal, though slightly labored, and she hoped he couldn't tell that her own respirations had quickened at his touch.  As soon  as she was done, she gently eased him back down again.

"Well, your lungs sound clear," she smiled as she took the earpieces out, "but you may have a broken rib or two.  I'm going to send you down for some X-rays, and as soon as I'm sure it's not anything more serious, I'll get you that pain medication.  All right?"

Max nodded again and attempted to smile, but Doc noticed his teeth were still clenched and his handsome features had paled slightly.  Impulsively, Doc reached out to pat his shoulder - feeling bad that her exam had aggravated his rib pain - then hastily left the room before he could see her blush.

*******
A little while later, Doc knocked on the open door, just to announce her presence, before walking into Max's room.

"How are you feeling?"  she asked him.

"It only hurts when I move," Max quipped, trying to grin but faltering somewhat. Doc's stomach lurched in empathy.

"I have something that will fix that," she said quietly, and for the first time Max noticed the painkillers in her hand.  Bravado aside, he gladly accepted them, downing them quickly with the water she provided.

"So, I'm gonna live, I take it?"

"Nothing serious," Doc answered, sitting down on the stool.  "You do have a couple of cracked ribs, though, so you need to take it easy for a few weeks to give them a chance to heal.  No more wave surfing for a while."

Then Doc's face sobered.  "It might also be a good idea to have someone with you for a day or two."

"Why is that?"

"Well, you mentioned that you may have swallowed some water."  At Max's nod, she continued.  "There's a thing called secondary drowning that you have to watch out for.  Your lungs didn't sound like they had water in them, but there's a slight chance they might, and sometimes you don't show symptoms till hours later."

"And that can be serious?"

Doc nodded.  "If your lungs are wet, air can't get in," she answered, leaving the obvious implication hanging.  "It's quite rare, but it's probably best if someone keeps an eye on you."  She felt herself flush at the thought.

Max didn't comment, but the look on his face spoke volumes.

"You do have someone, don't you?"

"I'm really not from here," Max answered slowly.

"Here on vacation?"

"More like a break between jobs," he replied vaguely.

"What kind of work do you do, Max?"

"I'm sort of an independent contractor. Security detail."

"Oh," Doc said, suddenly understanding the reason for the vagueness.  "So where are you from?  Where's your family?"

"The only family I have is back in San Francisco."

It was a while before Doc spoke again; she was busy soaking in his words.  The only family I have, he'd said.  That probably didn't mean parents, or children, or even a partner, she thought.  That probably meant work friends.  She could certainly relate; as a single mom with adult children, she often felt closer to her coworkers at the hospital than anyone else.  And everyone who cared about Max was on the other side of the country.

Suddenly, inexplicably, she was frightened for him.  But before she could speak, one of her coworkers poked her head in the open door.

"I hope you have a happy birthday, Doc!  I'll see you Saturday!"

"Thanks, Lisa!  Have a good one!"  she smiled over her shoulder.  When she looked back at Max, he was smiling.  "It's your birthday?"

"Tomorrow," she confirmed, and she had no doubt that her cheeks were bright red.

"Happy birthday," he said sincerely.  "You have big plans?"

How dare he change the subject when I'm trying to have a serious discussion!  she thought.  

"Not really," she answered honestly.  "I'm off tomorrow, but both of my kids are working so I'm hoping that one of my friends will come take me out to dinner or something.  Anyway," she said, forcing the subject back to where it was, "if you don't have anyone, you can stay here.  I can admit you for a day or two, just to be safe."

"That's okay.  I'll manage," Max replied.  His expression had changed slightly, though Doc couldn't quite pinpoint how.

"Max, I need you to take this seriously.  It could be dangerous."

"I understand," he assured her.  "I have someone in mind."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay then," she relented, a bit sad that her patient was about to leave.  "The nurse will be here shortly with your discharge papers.  There's instructions on how to care for your cracked ribs, and a prescription for some pain medication in case you want something stronger than over the counter stuff."

Doc smiled and extended her hand toward Max.  Her smile grew wider as she noticed that he didn't wince in pain as he reached back to take her hand in his.  The pain had lessened some, then.

"Take care, Max," she said sincerely.  "I wish you well.  Have a safe trip home."

"Thank you, Doc, for everything," Max answered, punctuating his handshake with an affectionate pat on her shoulder.

"That's my job, Max," she said dismissively.  She stared at him once more, firmly planting his features in her mind's eye.  There was something about him that she never wanted to forget.

A few moments later, the nurse gave Max his discharge papers, obtained his signature, and sent him on his way.

*******

Later that afternoon, Doc pulled into her driveway.  The remainder of her shift had been just as busy, but she couldn't get her mind off the handsome blond surfer.  Sadly, she realized she'd probably never see him again.  

With a jolt she forced herself back to reality.  You're too old for this, she scolded herself.  You're acting like a school girl!

She got out of her car and went inside the house.  Almost immediately afterward, the doorbell rang.  She returned to the door and opened it, and came face to face with a large bouquet of Easter flowers.

"For me?"  she asked incredulously.

"If you're Doctor LaVigne," the flower truck driver answered.

"I guess that's me," she smiled.  She thanked the driver and closed the door behind her.  She set the bouquet on the dining room table and reached for the card.

It read simply, "Happy Birthday."  And it wasn't signed.

Doc's eyes narrowed as she pondered who might have sent her flowers. As she stood there, thinking, the doorbell ring again.

What now? she thought.  Did the flower truck driver forget something?  She went to the door and opened it, coming face to face with....

"Max?"

"Hi, Doc," Max grinned.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.  "How did you find me?"