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Callie smiled as she entered the patient room, a clipboard tucked under one arm, her labcoat sleeves rolled. “Good morning, Mr Ackerly.” She put the chart down on the table. “May I examine your hip?”
“Sure, Dr Torres.” Said Mr Ackerly, giving Callie a brief smile.
Callie snapped on her gloves, palpating his hips carefully. Mr Ackerly winced. “Sorry.” Callie said apologetically, feeling the heat coming off the joint. “You’ll be glad to have your surgery tomorrow.” She offered. “How was your weekend?” She asked politely.
“It was fine, my daughter and my son visited. We went outside the hospital for a bit.” He told her. “How about yours?”
Callie smiled, pulling Mr Ackerly’s bed sheet back over his hip. “It was nice, thank you. My wife and I took our daughter to her classmates birthday party.” She said casually, not really watching Mr Ackerly close enough to notice the change in his expression. The way his interest hardened into something almost disbelieving or even disgusted.
“Wife?” He repeated. Callie was scribbling something in his chart, facing away from Mr Ackerly now. “Mhm.” She murmured, putting the pen down. “She works at this hospital, actually.”
“It’s just not right.” Mr Ackerly muttered harshly, shaking his head. Callie turned around to look at him, her brows furrowing. “Sorry?” She asked, sure she’d misheard him.
“I said it’s not right.” He repeated louder. “You – a woman – marrying.. you know, another woman.” He said.
Callie’s expression hardened, and she struggled internally to snub the defensive flame that had ignited in her gut. She needed to be professional, to be the bigger person in the face of such ignorance
“Well, I don’t see where you’re coming from, really. But I’m happy and so are you.” She said calmly, her tone wavering slightly.
“No, I’m not happy anymore. I don’t want you as my doctor anymore, Doctor Torres.” He said, raising his voice slightly.
“Mr Ackerly, I’m your best shot here. We don’t have to agree on things, but I can have you out of here with a shorter recovery time than any other orthopaedic doctor here.” She said, although she noted that he didn’t really deserve a shorter recovery time.
“I don’t care.” He said harshly, spittle flying out of his mouth and onto the bedsheets. “Get me another doctor – a normal doctor.” His voice was loud now, carrying out of the ajar door and into the corridor.
Callie wanted to scream back in his face, to stamp all over his bigoted views and make a fuss he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. “Get out!” Mr Ackerly screamed.
The door flew open and Meredith was stood in the doorway, her head cocked. “What the hell is going on?” She said, her expression exasperated. “What calls for screaming and shouting at Doctor Torres?”
“I don’t want a dyke for a doctor.” Hissed Mr Ackerly, his yellowed teeth showing as his lips curled upwards maliciously.
“You have got to be joking?!” Cried Meredith, putting her stack of charts down. “Doctor Torres is a fantastic surgeon.” She moved closer to Callie. “And your outdated - and quite frankly, incorrect – views don’t change that.”
Callie nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for her friend.
“Now, I’d recommend you let your surgeon do her job – granted she still wants to after that tantrum – or find another hospital. Because our chief of surgery is ten times scarier than me and she will not tolerate this.” Meredith said, and the tone of her voice told everyone listening that she meant business.
Meredith picked up her stack of charts again, gesturing for Callie to follow her out of the room. Callie rubbed her temples exasperatedly. “Thanks, Mer. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Do what? Stand up for my friend?” Meredith asked, as if she was being ridiculous. “Are you okay?” She asked, genuine concern softening her gaze.
Callie checked in with herself. She felt hot frustration. Frustration with the fact that even if people couldn’t understand what she had with Arizona, they couldn’t just keep their opinions to themselves. “I’m okay. Pissed off.” She replied. “Thank you, again.”