“Dan...” I shouted, “Daniel are you okay?” even though he was sitting, his cheeks were grey.

“Phoebe will you please keep still,” said Doctor Phillips, his eyes were twinkling at me over the top of his mask. “I am trying to anaesthetise the area you know."

I tried to relax my arm under the sterile fenestrated drape, which was never easy, “Sorry Doctor Phillips, it’s just I don’t think my friend is feeling very well?”

He spared a single glance at Daniel’s slumped figure then pressed the call-bell. “We’ll leave him to the nurse. Let’s get this part finished, shall we?”

The multiple pin-pricks always stung as he moved around the site on my arm, but not for long, as the anaesthetic quickly took effect. Today I felt even less. I was far more concerned with Daniel.

He was blinking rapidly, licking his lips like they were bone dry. 

The door opened and a nurse came hurrying in.

“Jenny, could you sort him out?” Doctor Phillips nodded at Daniel.

The nurse responded with a knowing smile and immediately filled a glass with cold water.

“He’s not bothered by any of this,” I said defensively. “It’s not the blood or anything.”

“No, of course not,” he said in a tone that meant exactly the opposite.

“I’m okay,” Daniel said.

Relieved, I glanced over to see he was clutching the glass to his forehead, rolling it back and forth. 

“I just felt dizzy, a bit sick if I’m honest. I didn’t feel great when I woke up.

The front of his t-shirt was soaked in sweat.

“You don’t look good,” I said, hardly noticing the last of the anaesthetic going in.

Dr Phillips looked up again, this time I could see he was smiling under the mask.

“Some people just aren’t good around blood. It’s no big deal...”

“That’s rubbish,” I said leaping in again before Daniel could say a word. “He’s really interested in Medicine. He’s helped Mom dress my wounds, done loads for me.  Why would this bother him?”

“Then I’ll guess again, shall I? Did you have breakfast before you came out this morning young man?’

“Umm... no, but...”

“There are no ‘buts’ about it. Low blood sugar is not good at any age.”

“Why didn’t you eat?” I demanded. 

“Because I’d had a rough night and got up late... Jes’ Phoebe you sound like my Mom! I thought maybe I could grab something later. I didn’t want you to be late for the appointment.” 

“So now it’s my fault...” I could hear the whine but it was hard to let it go.  “Maybe you shouldn’t come at all if I’m messing your life up so badly...”

Doctor Phillips cleared his throat, “Perhaps you’d like to continue the argument over breakfast later, but I’m ready — Phoebe?”

He was holding the small circular blade, shaped a bit like a pencil. The trephine — he had called it.

“Can I come closer and watch?” Daniel asked.  All signs of the earlier pallor had disappeared. “I really wanted to go to med school but I flunked my grades... and there’s the money of course.”

“You can always take those exams again, Son. So sure, come take a look. Just don’t faint on my patient.  I’ll explain as I go. It will be good practise for my intern days...”

It was fascinating. I’d seen it, of course, a hundred times, watched it happen, felt the tug on the skin as the blade of the punch biopsy machine cut down through the layers of epidermis, dermis and into the subcutaneous fat.

This time I paid attention as he explained, understood why it was necessary to go so deep. Why the sun was so damaging to the outer layers.

I could admire his dexterity as he skillfully slipped the cut tissue into the formaldehyde container without missing a beat. 

The few sutures he applied to the open wound took him less than a minute.

"What did you do?" Daniel piped in.

“I had stretched the skin along the lines of least skin tension before the incision. In the arm, it is along the long axis of the extremity. It had formed an elliptical-shaped wound, which allows easier closure by a single suture. This is a 5-0 nylon, we use for non-facial areas... "

He looked intently at Daniel for any sign of confusion. Finding none, he turned around, satisfied.

The nurse gently wrapped my whole arm in a new layer of white protective bandage. It was over... until the next time.

“That was great, fascinating,” Daniel said. “Thanks so much for talking me through it Doctor Phillips.”

“You are most welcome. Only next time make sure you eat something before you arrive?”

He shook Daniel’s hand warmly before turning to me.

“Check your inbox in two days, Phoebe. The reports should be here by then.”

Edited by lindajonesAuthor

A/N What do you feel for Daniel? Can you imagine what these daily procedures mean for Phoebe? Look up videos on Biopsy for more information.

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