My My Little Prince Read online

  Smitty held up his hand, “Don’t worry about the fee Doc, just make me look different and do it good and you will be well paid.”

  “Certainly Mr, Jones, certainly.” They shook hands and Dr. Sanchez walked him back out to the sliding glass doors. They said their goodbyes.

  Dr. Sanchez watched through the window until his new patient was in a cab. He looked at his receptionist and rolled his eyes. “He will be a difficult one I think … and, I hope it will be worth it. He has something or someone that he is hiding from and that always scares me. I like the movie stars better; all I worry about with them is getting world-wide exposure.” He chuckled, “No bad deal there, huh?”

  He turned back to the window and watched the cab pull out into traffic. “With him though, I wonder who might break down the door and kill us. I wish I knew what it is that he is hiding or from whom he is hiding.” He thought about that for a second, “Ha!” He laughed harshly, “maybe I don’t want to know! Either way he should be history in just a week or so. Thank God we have plenty of security here. I got a weird feeling from him. Very unsettling to say the least.”

  He turned and patted his beautiful receptionist on a porcelain arm. “Probably nothing to worry about dear. Most people are quite nervous when they come in here, right? Be sure to charge him top dollar though. I have a feeling we will earn every penny on this one! Tell me, why do I do this?”

  She looked at Dr. Sanchez and shook her pretty head, “because you love the money, that’s why.”

  He laughed again, “oh, yeah, I forgot.” He patted her arm once more and turned and walked off.

  Thursday morning came and the alarm on his Breitling chimed much too early. He rolled over to shut it off and thought, “Damn, time already.” He yawned. His empty stomach growled as he remembered his agenda and quickly sat up, “Ok, it's show-time! Let's get this little job done. A little snip here, a tuck there and I won’t have to worry about none of them assholes!” He quickly showered and dressed and rode the slow elevator down to the ground floor. Walking by the front desk of his hotel, he stopped to talk to the lady there.

  She looked up and quietly said, “You are up early sir, special occasion? There’s coffee in that urn over there.”

  “No, just some business. I will not be coming back though, so don't keep my room for me. Here,” he said as he gave her a couple of neatly folded bills. “This should do it, right?”?

  She unfolded them and stared. Her huge smile needed no words but she said, “Yes sir, this will do it. Where are you going?”

  He turned back slowly and stared for a couple seconds. He smiled perversely, “what the fuck do you care?”

  Startled, she looked away and said, “just trying to be nice ...”

  “Well don’t waste your time with me, I’m not a nice person. Keep it to yourself. If anyone asks about me, tell them that I went back to LA. Got it?”

  “Of course,” she stammered. “Er, any bags? Need any help?”

  “Just forget I was ever here. It would be better for you.”

  Walking through the exit doors he thought, “There had better be taxis here or I will be pissed.” He needn’t have worried. Just up the street he saw one turning his direction. Impatiently waiting he stared at the cab until it got close enough for him to yell at. “Hey taxi!” he yelled. The cab drove right on by without stopping. “If I could, I would kill that stupid mother fucker. What an asshole.”

  Pissed off and overly angry he walked back into the hotel and told the receptionist to call a taxi.

  “My pleasure, for now?”

  He looked at her, thinking, “What a fricking pinhead!” and said aloud, “Yes now. Just do it, and do it now. I will be out in front of the hotel and I expect that I will see a taxi in a couple minutes, right?”

  As he stepped onto the sidewalk another taxi pulled up and the cabbie rolled down the window, “need a ride, sir?”

  He looked at him with disbelief and said, “yes, to the Plastic Surgery Group in front of the Palacio.”

  “OK, I’ll have you there in twelve minutes or less. Jump in.” He held an arm out the window and just sort of forced his way into the oncoming traffic, horns blowing everywhere. “Going to get a little tune up, are you?”

  “Fuck! Why is everybody so fucking nosy? Don’t have anything else in your miserable lives, is that it?” He pounded his fist on the door. “Just drive, and don't hit any dogs, I hate the sight of blood.” He leaned back in his seat and stared out the window. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was nervous. “If it’s my blood that is.”

  When he arrived at the clinic, Dr. Sanchez, two surgical nurses, and an anaesthesiologist were all waiting for him. Dr. Sanchez introduced the team to him and said, “Right this way, Mr. Smi...er, uh, Jones. Mr. Jones ... sorry about that”

  A short while later Smitty was laying on a gurney staring up into bright lights. “Ok, Mr. Jones, count back please from ten, ok? And nine, and eight, seven ... ”

  Later that afternoon after the surgery, Dr. Sanchez walked into his room. He smiled and asked “how are you feeling sir?”

  Smitty was groggy, but he grabbed Sanchez’s arm and pulled him up within a few inches of his face. “I pulled the gauze back a little and looked; you had better have some words that I want to hear asshole. What the hell happened? The surgery did NOT go fine! You call yourself a surgeon and this circus, you call a clinic,” he yelled at Dr. Sanchez.

  “I hate the way it looks, it’s crooked, I want it straight. What is wrong with you? And you expect me to pay for this? I should have you killed for this. I can do that you know. I warned you, it had better be perfect or I will have you killed. I flew half way around the world for this ... what in the hell is wrong with you? Where did you buy your freak’n degree ... from K-Mart?”

  “Please, relax sir. I assure you, everything is fine. We have to do it in two procedures because your blood pressure spiked and we could not get it back in line. There was no reason to take a risk, so we halted the rest of the operation. I assure you Mr. Jones, we only have a minor alignment left to do on your nose and ... ."

  “That’s all you can say? ‘Relax?’ It´s my fucking face you´re playing with. It´s my face and all you can say is relax. Fix it and fix it fast.”

  “Yes sir, right away.” Sanchez jumped up and fumbled with something in the IV next to the bed. “But for now you need to sleep, please just sleep. If you get more upset you may tear the stitches and then we will not be able to fix it. Please, lie back down; close your eyes and sleep. You need sleep. I assure you, we will fix it and you will be perfect, you have my guarantee. But for now lay back and sleep, please. You will look so much better after you rest.”

  Smitty started getting groggy and as he lay back he heard the nurse say “you’re needed in Admin Dr. Sanchez.” He fought off the drugs for a second and grabbed Sanchez’s arm, “Fuck you asshole, you work for me; don't forget that! You work for me and if you fuck me up you will not work again because I will make it so you can't. Get the picture?”

  “Yes sir, I certainly do, loud and clear sir.”

  The next morning they brought him into the operating room once again and prepped him for the surgery. Sanchez leaned over and told him “I know you will be happy after this small alignment. But please, you must relax and work with us.”

  Ten minutes later the anaesthesiologist gave the doctor a nod. With trembling hands Dr. Sanchez began.

  “OK nurse; let’s get it right, right?” Sanchez announced. “I am going to do it all, even the final stitches. Just pay very close attention and give me what I ask for. Let's just get this done and over with. This guy is scary and I want him out of here. ASAP!”

  The nurse nodded and Dr. Sanchez said, “Scalpel.”

  He carefully drew a small line with the scalpel to the side of Smitty’s nose. He made a couple small cross hatches to enable him to line up the tissue perfectly. Blood began to drip from the small incisions. With shaking hands he slowly deepened the cuts until his
incisions were deep enough to expose the nose cartilage. As he worked, he cauterized the small arteries one by one and only a very small amount of blood oozed slowly. “Give me some gauze,” he told the nurse over and over again as he gently chiselled the bone on the right side of the juncture of the cartilage and the frontal bone.”

  About twenty minutes later Dr. Sanchez looked up, and asked the nurse to wipe his brow. “That should do it. Hand me that suture, no, the other one, the number-five nylon please.” He took his time making sure everything was right. “Dammit!” he thought to himself as he sewed. “This definitely did not go as planned. A second procedure was definitely not in the plans. This asshole should have been out of here already.” Mumbling aloud he said “damn, he makes me nervous and this is the wrong time to be nervous.

  “He will like his nose now though, it´s straight and the other stuff will really will make him look younger.” He thought to himself again, “I hope to God he does or this guy will kill me. I think he was serious.” He wiped his brow once again, “Fuck, why do I do this stuff? I have a great life and yet I seem to constantly get myself into these jams. Addicted to the stress I guess. That has to be the only reason.” He smirked to himself, “Yeah, right. Well, the money doesn’t hurt either, does it?”

  As Dr. Sanchez was pulling off his gloves he wiped the sweat from under his chin and the back of his neck. He tossed the tissues and gloves in the medical waste canister and the surgical nurse asked, “Doctor, what about his eye lid? You think it will be good enough for him?”

  He positioned the overhead light once again and scrutinized his handiwork. “Yeah, that’s just fine I think. I think it looks fine. It’s the best we could do with what we had to work with. He can call it a beauty mark; it’s so hard to see.” He pushed the light aside and turned to his nurse “I want him out of here as fast as we can get him out.”

  “You did a good job Eric; the nose and cheeks look perfect and the eyelid is really good too. He definitely does not look like he did before. Unless you were his mother you would never recognize him.” She gently patted some dried blood and mucus from around Smitty’s swollen cheeks. “He looked fine before; actually quite handsome in fact. I wonder why he wanted to look different.”

  “No, you probably don’t want to know! And don’t say anything to him when he wakes up either. Not one question or comment, just smile and get him out of here.” He looked squarely at her, “I just want him out of here.” Dr. Sanchez took her by the elbow. “He’s a trouble maker and I don’t have time for trouble. He even looks mean, like a killer. His money is not worth the aggravation. I think we made a bad decision this time.”

  “Now Dr. Sanchez, remember, you’re in it for the money,” she soothed, “and he will be paying a lot.”

  “Yea, but this time I’m thinking that maybe the money is not worth it,” he replied.

  She shrugged, “I think maybe you are right this time, he could be dangerous.” She hustled over to her surgery-tools tray and started gathering everything for the sanitizer. “Don’t worry Eric; we’ll get him out of here pronto!”

  “Nurse, when he wakes, be sure to watch him, but keep as distant as you can. In all my years of plastic surgery he is the worst patient I have ever had. Remember, watch him, but keep your distance. He is very capable of tearing the sutures and blaming us. He will be waking up again and he will be yelling at someone very soon.” Then Dr. Sanchez stopped his rant and turned to go. As he was walking away he nodded at the nurse once again. “Thanks Luz Maria. You always do such good work.”

  “Thank you doctor,” she blushed. “I´ll take good care of him. He´ll be out of here ASAP; ... the sooner the better.”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  An hour later.....

  “Did you hear that?” Luz Maria said.

  “Yes I did.” Sanchez responded. She walked toward the sounds.

  “Nurse! Nurse!” She could hear him yelling from the room at the end of the hallway. She nervously tugged at an ear as she walked rapidly. “Now I want him out of here as much as Dr. Sanchez!” She quickly entered the room with a big smile and said, “How can I help you sir? I trust you are bright-eyed and bushy tailed now and ready to get on with your life’s adventure.”

  He looked at her with a stare that could kill and said, “Cut the BS, I want some help here, not your crap.”

  She knew that he was always angry so by this time she did not allow his tone to bother her as much as before. She was a tough nurse and had seen patients of every imaginable description and demeanor.

  Nurse Luz had told the other nurses at the nurse’s station to leave him up to her. Now she wondered if she would regret it. She had told this to Dr. Sanchez as well, so she had no choice but to smile and do what had to be done. “It is my job to be sure he causes no trouble,” she told herself.

  She smiled at him and asked again, how she could help.

  “What a dumb question,” he snapped. “How do you think you can help? Come on, fuck, what do you think I want? I want this fucking catheter out of me right now. It’s killing me! And I want to get cleaned up and get out of here. And I’m fucking hungry!”

  “No sir!” she responded with authority, “you know you have to rest for a day or so before you can leave.”

  But larger forces were calling and he knew he had to get out of there. He had to keep moving. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed ranting, “If I knew how bad the surgeons are here and how poor the service is in the shitty country I would have gone to Mexico …” he winced in pain as he leaned forward trying to get his center of gravity fixed so he could make an attempt to stand, tubes or no tubes. “…yes, Mexico,” he grunted, “for this fucking surgery and not here in the shit hole.”

  He stopped and stared at her like she was the fault of the world, “You call this a country? And Santo Domingo? What a place! Garbage all over … millions of stupid people standing in the streets as if they are waiting for something to happen. Listen here, I want to leave … now!” He stood up briefly but teetered like a drunk. Luz Maria rushed to his side and taking his arm she gently pushed on his shoulder, forcing him back down on the bed. He lay there panting, sweat running down his face and neck.

  She looked at him and said, “See? You need to relax and sleep.” She was angry with him, but her nature was to care, to nurse; so she gently lifted his legs back on the bed and arranged the pillows and covers. “Just until tomorrow; OK? Just rest quietly for one day. No one will disturb you. And then, if all looks good, you can leave.”

  He pushed her hand away and turned his head aside, but he quieted and said, “It had better look good.”

  “It will, I promise. I assisted in the surgery and I have never seen Dr. Sanchez take such care in any patient before. You will look great. I promise. You will feel better tomorrow. And leaving tomorrow is really pushing it anyway, but the doctor said you could go as soon as you felt able. If you do leave, you have to figure some way to get your dressings changed every day. Not impossible I guess, but it sure would be easier with some help.” She refilled his water glass and rearranged the bedside tray so it was more accessible. “So, just go to sleep now and tomorrow you can go. Then you must return in a week to check the stitches and get the dressing off. Promise me that we will see you in a week.”

  “I can guarantee that you will see me in a week if he screwed up my face! And you will see your grave too if he blew it!” He leaned back and closed his eyes as he visibly relaxed. His fists slowly unclenched and he mumbled, “you will, see me, again, if ... ” and then he dozed off, exhausted from his efforts.

  She left shaking her head and thought to herself “Man, what a butthead! Scary! I never thought I’d say this, but that is one guy I wouldn’t mind seeing succumbing to a stiff outbreak of E-Coli! Dickhead!” She quietly closed the door behind her and chastised herself for her uncharitable thought.

  24 hours later.

  “See now, don't you feel better? And except for when we pulled that cathe
ter you slept almost twenty-four hours. You look great.” She opened the curtains and grey drizzly day seeped in. “Is there any …”

  “Stop with the garbage,” he interrupted, his mood certainly no better for the sleep. “How the fuck do you know how I look with all this gauze wrapped all over my face and head? I am ready to go.”

  “Ok … sir …, I just need to change the dressings, but it’s my duty to tell you I do not think this is a good idea.” He started to interrupt again but she quashed it by pulling roughly on one of his bandages. That definitely got his attention and she continued, “… but it’s your decision; so, you need to listen up. Do NOT forget to change your bandages every day. I’ve packed a bag of everything you need for this along with a script for antibiotics. You will need to take antibiotics. This is normal of course, but even more important here in the tropics. The weather is moist and warm here and the conditions are incubator-ripe for breeding infections! You understand me?” She held up a little white box and pulled a foil packet out to show him, “Augmentin; every twelve hours for seven days. And don’t forget …” she said as she pulled the last of the gauze away and reached for the Betadine antiseptic bottle. She sprayed a generous portion of the blood-orange colored liquid on a sterile pad and looked back up at him, “… we need to see you in a week.”