Date = 22 April
Hours of dread. And s*x.
Place = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center)
Another place I’m starting to hate. Except for the on-call room.
POV – Enrique
Doc Barney swivels toward me. “Your turn, son.” His hand is already outstretched for another syringe.
“Hell no!” My voice cracks somewhere between a shout and a squeak. “You’re not stabbing my d**k with a damn needle!” A man has limits.
I clutch the thin hospital gown like it’s armor, but it’s useless — everyone’s eyes snap to the very obvious tent situation happening in my lap.
“You have an erection?” Barney asks, his tone somewhere between clinical curiosity and mild amusement. f**k. Why did I open my mouth?
The doctor laughs and pats me on the thigh. “I was just going to stitch your brow … but now I have to check dow
