Chapter 3 - The Doctor’s Dismissal
By 10:00 AM, we were sitting in the sterile, brightly lit examination room of the county medical center.
Dr. Hayes, an orthopedic surgeon with salt-and-pepper hair and an air of weary professional arrogance, tapped a stylus against his digital tablet as he looked down at Caleb. Caleb sat on the exam table, his head bowed, staring rigidly at his lap, clutching his plastered right arm against his chest as if it were a venomous snake.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I’ve reviewed the intake notes from the emergency room after his playground incident six weeks ago,” Dr. Hayes said, not unkindly, but with the unmistakable tone of a man dealing with neurotic parents. “A clean hairline fracture of the radius. Standard immobilization procedure. The cast is intact, the circulation in his fingers looks healthy, and his capillary refill time is normal.”
“Doctor, you don't understand,” I interrupted, leaning forward in my plastic chair. “He hasn't slept in three days. He’s screaming that something is moving underneath the plaster. Look at his wrist—he’s tried to claw his way through the fiberglass.”
Dr. Hayes sighed, walking over to examine Caleb’s arm. He gently lifted Caleb’s hand, checking the exposed skin around the fingers. The skin was pale, clammy, and crisscrossed with angry red scratch marks.
“Caleb,” Dr. Hayes said softly, flashing a small penlight in the boy’s eyes. “Do your fingers feel numb? Do you have any tingling sensations?”
Caleb didn't look up. His voice was a flat, hollow whisper. “It’s walking.”
Dr. Hayes paused, glancing back at us with an expression that clearly said I told you so. He turned his attention back to the boy. “What’s walking, buddy?”
“Underneath,” Caleb whispered, his small shoulders trembling. “It has legs. Lots of them. It tickles at first, like pins and needles... and then it burns. Like acid.”
Vivian let out an embarrassed, tight-lipped breath. “See? Doctor, he’s hallucinating. He’s been reading too many horror stories online or watching things he shouldn't on his tablet. Can’t we give him a mild sedative? Something to calm his nerves?”
Dr. Hayes clicked his stylus against the tablet. “I can prescribe a mild anti-anxiety syrup, but I strongly advise against removing the cast prematurely. If we cut it off now, the bone fragments could shift, and we’d have to reset it manually. That would cause actual, physical trauma far worse than an itchy cast.”
“It’s not itchy!” Caleb suddenly shouted, his head snapping up. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with a raw, frantic panic that made me flinch. “It’s eating! It’s eating my arm from the inside out!”
“Caleb, stop that right now,” Vivian scolded sharply, her cheeks flushing red with humiliation. “Apologize to the doctor for yelling.”
“No, let him speak,” I said, my voice rising. I stood up, stepping directly between the doctor and my son. “Dr. Hayes, look at the cast. Look right here, near the elbow crease.”
I pointed to a tiny, almost invisible discoloration on the white plaster—a faint, brownish-gray stain about the size of a dime, leaking through the porous material.
Dr. Hayes frowned, stepping closer. He leaned down, sniffing the surface of the cast. A puzzled crease appeared on his forehead. “That’s... odd. Is that iodine?”
“No,” I said, my stomach tightening into a knot of pure dread. “That’s not iodine. That’s organic. It smells like copper.”
Dr. Hayes reached out, pressing his thumb against the discolored spot.
As soon as his thumb made contact, Caleb let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream—not of fear, but of agonizing, searing pain—and violently jerked his arm away.
Snap.
Underneath the plaster, a sharp, muffled sound echoed through the room—like dry twigs snapping inside a hollow pipe.
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Dr. Hayes pulled his hand back as if he had been burned, his face instantly draining of color. “What... what was that?”
“Cut it off,” I snarled, grabbing the doctor by the lapel of his white lab coat, my self-control finally snapping. “Cut this damn thing off right now, or I swear to God I’ll take a scalpel and do it myself!”
