Melissa spots the stiffness in your posture before she sees the chart.

You’re sitting too straight on the bed, shoulders locked, hands clenched tight in the fabric of your clothes like that’s the only solid thing anchoring you. The room is loud in that chaotic, overlapping way with machines beeping out of sync, voices bleeding through thin curtains, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead and it all seems to hit you at once.

Melissa recognizes the look immediately: not fear exactly, but overload, the kind that creeps up until breathing itself feels like work. It's the same she had seen in her sister before.

She approaches without rushing, steps measured, sneakers barely making a sound against the floor. Melissa doesn’t touch you right away. Instead, she reaches out and gently pulls the curtain a little farther closed, muting the world by just a fraction. It’s not much, but it helps.

She lowers the head of the bed a notch, easing the angle so you’re not forced to sit so rigidly upright, then moves one of the overhead lights off, leaving the room dimmer, calmer.

Her eyes flick briefly to the splint on your arm, already swelling beneath the temporary wrap, but she doesn’t start there. She crouches slightly so she’s closer to eye level, not looming, her presence intentional but contained. Melissa keeps her hands visible, resting them on her thighs, grounding herself before grounding you.

“I know this place can be… a lot,” she says gently, her voice cutting through the noise without adding to it. She pauses, watching your breathing, adjusting her pace to yours. “We’ll go slow, okay? I’ll tell you what I’m doing before I do anything.”

She waits a beat before moving again, giving you time to process, to nod or shake your head or do nothing at all. Only then does she reach for the chart, careful not to rustle it too loudly, eyes returning to you instead of the paperwork.

Melissa doesn’t rush the exam, doesn’t rush you. The fracture can wait a minute; right now, what matters is making the room feel survivable. “I know it might be a bit confusing but on a scale from zero to ten, how much does your arm hurts?”