Adam in form-fitting but not too tight jeans and his black T-shirt was the kind of pin-up calendar fantasy women dreamed of meeting in real life.
“I know you aren’t dressed for house calls…” Glenda swept her gaze over Adam again “…but Irene Guess has a wound I think is going to need debridement. About a year ago she had a similar wound she was hospitalized for. Would you mind taking a quick look so I’ll know whether or not to schedule an appointment? It’s so hard for her to get in and out, not to mention getting her a ride. I thought while you’re here you might have a quick look.”
Adam didn’t bat an eyelid at being asked to check a patient during his day off. But Liz couldn’t help but wonder if it bothered him because he rubbed his right temple. He caught her watching him and quickly dropped his hand.
Finding his behavior odd, Liz followed him and Glenda to check on Mrs Guess. The older woman was sitting on her sofa, watching a soap opera. She seemed more interested in the program than in discussing the wound the director was concerned about.
Adam washed his hands, massaging the soap into his fingertips for longer than normal, once again making Liz question if he felt OK. But with a smile on his face, he dried his hands before putting on gloves and assessing the older lady, asking about the sore that had come up on her abdomen.
“I don’t know what caused it,” Mrs Guess said in her sweet grandmotherly voice, her gaze still on the television. “I woke up with a red spot one morning, and each day it’s worse than it was the day before.”
“Does the area drain?”
The woman waited until a man on television finished expounding an argument in court to a serious-looking jury. Once the scene cut to a commercial, she shifted her glasses-rimmed eyes to Adam. “Yellowish stuff is on the bandage when I take it off.”
“Can you show me the place while sitting, or do I need to help you lie down?”
“You can see.” Mrs Guess raised her shirt and lifted a pasty white skin roll. A gauze pad crumpled. She removed the pad and held the bandage out. “This is the drainage I was talking about. Just yellowish gunk.”
“I see.” But Adam’s gaze had already taken a quick glance at the dirty dressing and gone to the ulceration on the woman’s abdomen. An open nickel-sized lesion with a large area of surrounding redness oozed a sticky honey-colored exudate. Streaks of angry red shot out.
Liz had seen worse wounds, but Mrs Guess did have a serious problem. From the look of the ulcer and drainage, she’d need IV antibiotics and possibly isolation as discovering MRSA had caused the infection wouldn’t surprise her.
“Have you had a fever, Mrs Guess?”
“How am I supposed to know?” She seemed annoyed that Adam had asked her another question now that the program she’d been watching had come back on.
“I don’t have a thermometer, but I have felt a tad warm the past day or two. I thought it was from the heat.”
Adam took her hand, forcing her to keep her attention on him rather than the television. “You’ve got an infection. From the way the wound looks, I suspect a particular strand of Staph.” He confirmed Liz’s suspicions. After burning the gloves and washing his hands again, Adam returned to Mrs Guess’s side. “I’m going to call for a non-emergency ambulance to take you to the hospital.”
The woman looked alarmed. “The hospital? Surely a little sore isn’t that serious?”
“It can be. You need strong antibiotics through an IV. In the morning I’ll recheck you and may opt to surgically clean the wound. Similar to what I did last year to the place on your leg.” Placing his fingertips to his temple, Adam closed his eyes and rubbed the spot for such a brief moment that someone who didn’t know him so well might have missed the tell-tale action. Liz saw.
Did he have a headache? After he finished with Mrs Guess, she’d offer to drive the truck back to his place, run him a hot bath, maybe give him a neck rub. Goodness knew, he hadn’t been getting enough rest with the hours he was pulling at the hospital. But he’d said he needed to make up for the couple of days he’d taken off to be with her following Gramps’s death.
But when Adam turned to Liz, any traces of a problem had disappeared and he wore only a concerned professional expression. “I’ll drop you by your place and meet the ambulance at the hospital. That way I can do a direct admission and Mrs Guess won’t have to go through the emergency room.”
“I’ll go with you.” She’d be there when he finished. She wanted to ask him about his headache, to make sure he got some rest tonight. He’d been taking such good care of her. Tonight she’d make him prop his feet up and she’d pamper him.
Not meeting her eyes, he shook his head. “No, I’ll drop you at your place. I may be a while.”
Huh? Liz blinked at him, sure she failed to hide her surprise. “I’d rather go with you.”
“Liz,” he began, and she’d swear he winced. “I need to make rounds on my other patients. It would be better to drop you off since I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
She didn’t bother to point out that until Glenda had asked him to check Mrs Guess he’d planned to spend the entire day with her. But she did think it and wondered why he’d want to drop her at her place.
They’d always had to make use of every available second because of busy schedules and her limited free time. Maybe he thought time wasn’t so precious now that Gramps was gone and the confines of their relationship not so rigid.
Yet she’d barely seen him since the day of Gramps’s funeral.
“I don’t mind,” she assured him, sending a smile his way to let him know she wanted to spend whatever time they could together. Later, when they were in private, she’d reassure him that every moment they spent together was precious.
“But I do,” he stunned her by saying. He cast a quick glance at Glenda and Mrs Guess, then continued. “You’ve been clearing out your grandfather’s things all day. The last thing you need is to get stuck at the hospital for hours on end. I’m taking you home.”
Bewildered, Liz nodded her agreement, knowing there must be a good reason he didn’t want her with him.
* * *
“Adam? Is something wrong?” Liz asked the following night. Concern filled her voice and he could just picture her twirling a strand of hair around her finger while she asked.
Adam closed his eyes and gripped his cellular phone all the tighter.
From his caller ID he’d known the caller was Liz. So why had he answered? He should have just avoided the call altogether.
Avoiding Liz was what he’d done for the past twenty-four hours. Why stop now?
But he’d eventually have to talk to her, tell her that he was…was what? No longer a whole man? Not healthy? Not sure exactly what was going on with his body, but that he’d be seeing the neurologist for a spinal tap and the other tests in the morning?
On Monday the specialist had agreed with Larry. He believed Adam had MS.
Which was why he’d wanted to spend yesterday with Liz, but gripping that walker in his palms had messed with his head, had panicked him. All he’d been able to think was that if he had MS, the day might come when he wouldn’t be able to walk without a walker. Or worse. The day might come when he wouldn’t be able to walk at all.
Each time he’d looked at Liz, all he stood to lose had constricted his throat, made it difficult to breathe, made him afraid she’d see the anxiety in his eyes.
Then, while examining Mrs Guess, a searing pain had stabbed the right side of his head, making him wonder if he’d