Page 30 of High Side
Brit pulled in at the urgent care, then came around to help her out of the truck. “Do you want me to go get a wheelchair?”
“No way. I do not need wheelchairs popping up at work all summer with my name painted on them.” God help her.
“Oh God. They would too.” Brit snorted as she put an arm around Kylie’s waist. “Shit, I would.”
“I know. We’re all the same.” Adrenaline junkies loved stupid jokes. A lot.
“And, upsy-daisy.” They went up the two steps into the metal building that served as the local medical center, Brittany getting the door.
Leif Kander looked up from behind the desk when they walked in, frowning when he saw who it was. “Kylie? What happened?”
She sank down into the check-in chair when Brit lowered her down. “Ankle is torn up. Slipped on a wet rock in the river.”
“Were you wearing your Tevas?” He started typing shit into the computer.
“Yep. And boom. I put my hikers on at the bus and haven’t looked since.”
He pressed his lips together to stare at her. She stared back. He sighed. “How long?”
“Few hours.”
Brittany looked at her tactical watch. “Three and fifteen.”
“Okay. I need your ID and health card.”
“Health card?” Brit asked.
“Yeah. It’s hard to carry insurance on mostly itinerant workers, so long-term employees like Joe and I have health account cards with the company that Liz and Lupe contribute to.”
“Nice.” Brittany nodded. “I like them more and more.”
“Yeah.” Kylie pulled out her wallet. “Though Liz says since this was at work, it’s on her.”
“I’ll charge it to her account then.” Leif picked up the phone to call to the back. “We’ll need an X-ray, Teri.”
After that it was all a blur of poking, prodding, images and the doc, who was a nice but stern lady in her fifties.
“Well, Kylie,” she said after almost two hours. “On the good side, nothing is broken. On the bad side, you have a major sprain with some tearing that’s causing a little bleeding in there and big hematoma. Elevation and rest for a week. And a boot for at least four more weeks.”
“What? No way! That’s half the summer season.”
“If you reinjure at any time during the recovery period it could be all summer. Or worse, surgery.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Oh, man. I can’t afford that, for sure.”
“Well, then. I can give you a good, small boot. You can start to put weight on it by Friday. I hope you can use crutches.”
“Yeah.” She’d spent half a school year on them back in the day when she was first on the basketball team. “I don’t have any at the house, though.”
“We have spare sets. I’ll get Leif to get you one.” She scribbled stuff on her clipboard. “I’ll also get you some anti-inflammatories, since there’s no breakage.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” She sighed. Shit. Liz was going to shit a pink Twinkie. And how was she supposed to get anything done on crutches?
She left with a sample bottle of pills, a prescription, crutches, and a foul mood.
“Man, you did it up right,” Brittany said when they were back in the truck. “Do you need anything back at work, or can I just take you home?”
“I can drop you off, if you want. I know you have better things to do.”
