At 4:30 am, a Doctor Lugo in a comforting white coat pulled Steven into a small office. He spoke English, accented but good enough for Steven to clearly understand him and that was a relief.
“This man,” he looked down at his metal clipboard, “…Conrad. Does he have any allergies? Can he take ampicillin?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has he had ampicillin before?”
“I—s**t, I don’t know any of his medical history.”
“Can you find out? I need to dose him quickly. If he has an allergic reaction, it could be worse than what he’s fighting now.” Lugo’s voice was stern now, a little impatient.
“What is he fighting? What’s wrong?”
“The blood work is at the lab.” Lugo looked at his watch. “I’ll be sure they run this first. I can’t give you an accurate diagnosis until then, but...” The doctor looked at Stev
