I spent another day at the clinic on Friday, mostly reading and talking to Alexis, which had become our routine, until a woman brought in her husband. He had been opening a box when the razor knife slipped and he had run the sharp blade from wrist to elbow, cutting himself deeply.
He was bleeding profusely and was ashen when she brought him in. Alexis and I jumped up and helped them into one of the exam rooms. Alexis held the wound shut and asked me to hand her a roll of gauze out of the cabinet. Between the two of us, we held his wound shut and bound his arm tightly to help stem the flow of blood.
“The best thing we can do is slow the bleeding and get him to change forms. That’ll heal the worst of it, maybe not all of it, but it’ll go a long way,” Alexis explained.
“I can’t shift. I
