“Are you John?” I asked, walking into the room.
“Nope. Wrong patient, that’s not me,” he wore a dull, flat expression.
The corners of his mouth crept upwards into a sheepish grin. His gray hair peeked out from his US Army Veteran cap.
“Yes, you are [John]!” I tore open a Band-Aid and alcohol wipe, preparing for his shot. “You were in the army?”
“Thank you for your service. Where did you serve? And please confirm your date of birth.”
“I served both here in the States and abroad. My birthday is January 1, 1942…” his eyes widened, then shut tight. He turned to face the opposite direction.
“Oh come on… You’re a soldier and you’re nervous about a shot?!” I joked, while lifting his shirt sleeve and wiping his skin with alcohol.
“Look, I [had] put bodies in bags, but when it comes to needles, I run the other way,” he confessed.
“You crack me up. Here we go, 1…2…3….” I inserted the syringe into his deltoid, pressed the plunger, retracted the syringe, then applied gauze and the bandaid to his arm.
He relaxed, then looked directly at me. “You laughing because which one of us is holding the needle?!”
Syringe still tucked in my gloved hands, I chuckled as I walked towards the sharps container. “You right, you right.”
~ ~ ~
Ah it’s been so long since I’ve written! I’m going through a bit of a writing drought recently, so I decided to ease into things slowly with a more lighthearted story. There is a lot of heavy stuff weighing on me that I have got to churn out though, so hopefully I’ll have the energy to start writing more prolifically. To my few readers still left, if you’re reading this, a huge thanks! =D