Diego stepped through the automatic doors of Rain Down Temple; what passed for a holistic temple in rural North Dakota. He leaned on his cane, the pain in his back was always worse after a long drive. As he looked around he noticed the retail space was primarily a marijuana dispensary. For a Catholic man in his late forties, it was not a place he ever thought he would be setting foot. He approached the pink-haired girl at the counter. "I have a noon appointment with Dr. Desilva."
The girl chuckled.
"What's so funny?"
"You're the first person to call him Dr. Desilva, like ever."
"He's a doctor, correct?"
"Yes, Remy Desilva holds a doctorate in holistic medicine and is a licensed physical therapist. Take a seat, I'll let him know you're here. I'm Syren, by the way."
Deigo gave her a polite smile and nod. "Of course, you are." He hobbled to a bench and took a seat as the receptionist picked up the phone.
"Yo, Remy, your noon appointment is here."
Diego muttered, "What have I gotten myself into?"All he knew was that Remy was the cousin of his student's boyfriend. He trusted Sara Foster, she was like a daughter to him. So for her, he would give this Remy person a chance.
"Professor Quinto?" said a male voice, silky smooth like the waves of the ocean.
Diego looked up to see a young man with long dark hair and skin much too tan to be from the Midwest. "I'm actually not a professor. Are you Dr. Desliva?"
The young man extended his hand in a professional manner. "I'm Dr. Remy Desilva, Johnny's cousin. He and Sara told me so much about you."
Deigo shook Remy's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor." Diego was 6'2", a little over 200 pounds, during his time as a soldier he was used to coming off as intimidating. But there was something about Remy that made him smile; his ethereal look, with his dreamy eyes. "You can just call me Diego. I'm actually not a professor, more of a tutor."
"My apologies, Sara mentioned you had an advanced degree, so I just assumed you worked at the high school."
"I'm actually more of a friend of a friend."
"Aren't we all? Please, come to my office." Remy motioned towards a beaded doorway. "Did you bring all of your medications?"
"Yes," he said, handing over a plastic container from his leather bag. "Although I wasn't able to get copies of my medical records."
"I don't need that. I just want to make sure I don't accidentally do something to cause an unintended reaction. Help yourself to some tea."
"Unintended reaction?" Diego tried to ignore his hesitation. He took a paper cup and filled it with the sweet smelling tea. He closed his eyes as he took in the aroma. The scent of cinnamon and clove reminded him of his childhood; Christmas and happiness before so much went wrong. He discreetly wiped tears from his eyes as he looked around the room. The medical office as adorned with crystals, candles, and eastern religious deities. "I should warn you, I'm a Catholic, so I don't really believe in this kind of thing."
"Christians believe in souls, the existence of an afterlife. We're not really all that different. As soon as you're finished with your tea, take off your shirt and let me get a look at the condition of your back."
Diego rested his cane against a wall, and then unbuttoned his shirt, with his back facing Remy. Due to the nerve damage in his hands, his fingers moved slowly. This lack of strength was in sharp contrast to the appearance of his body. Diego weight trained and adhered to a diet of protein powder and supplements. The theory being: the more physical strength he maintained the more control he held over the pain.
Diego could hear Remy swallow hard. It was not an uncommon reaction to the sight of his back, even for medical professionals. "Wow. Are your burns scars painful to touch?"
Diego nodded. "I've been prescribed Vicodin for a little over six years. But as of late, the pain has gotten much worse, I've started on cortisone injections."
"There is the possibility your body has developed an immunity to certain painkillers." Remy placed gentle pressure on various points. "I've treated patients with third-degree burns. How much dexterity do you have in your muscles?"
Deigo flinched as pain shot through his arm. "How many of your patients have gotten blown up by a roadside bomb?"
"Maybe five or six; I did some volunteer work at the VA back in Honolulu." Remy grabbed something from his desk. "I'm sorry about your shoulder. I should have recognized by the condition of the tissue. Lean your head forward while I apply the heating pad. "
Diego could feel Remy's soft hands on his skin, manipulating his muscles. Much to his surprise, where ever the cloth heating pad touched there was no soreness, or discomfort, only a feeling of tender warmth. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced. "You do a lot of work with disabled combat veterans?"
"Yes, I do. I was inspired by my father. He served two tours in Iraq. Unfortunately, during this third tour, my mother called it quits and filed for divorce. Three days later he was injured in a mortar attack. He survived but he was in a lot of pain. He passed on a few years ago after a long battle with cancer."
"My condolences."
"Thank, you," "Remy said, resting his hand on Diego's shoulder.
Diego shivered as he felt Remy's breath against his skin. "Doctor?"
"I can feel your aura. Are you able to lay down on the exam table?"
Deigo looked at the "table", which appeared to be a futon or large sofa bed. "I don't see why not." He sat on the side of the bed, to remove his shoes and socks. Diego then rested on his back, and in doing so showed off his chest full of tattoos. His body was his pride, a map of his life, starting with the images of his children on his pectorals. He took a deep breath, awaiting whatever Remy had planned.
"You have your son's image tattooed over your heart. Sara told me about him. To lose a child to illness. I can't even imagine." Remy closed his eyes, gently stroking his fingers over the tattoo. "From where he is, your son sends you his strength."
