Only God Can Judge Me

"Can you stay here with me," he asks me, his big brown eyes looking up at me helplessly.
"I can't, I'm sorry." I soak another four by four in sterile saline and start the tedious process of wiping the blood off of him over. This is the second time I've seen him tonight. The first was at the accident, when he put his car in a ditch and hit his head against the window.
"You're the only one who's nice to me; everyone else is yelling at me and staring me down and stuff." He uses his sleeve to scratch his face, raising both of his cuffed hands up slowly so as to avoid hitting me in the process.
"You're my patient," I say softly, "it's my job to take care of you." He smiles at me as I wipe the blood from under his eyebrow.
"I didn't mean to drive drunk. I didn't know I had," he falters, trying not to cry. He starts over, looking me right in the eye. "I came home from work and had a few beers, but I didn't realize how hungry I was. I guess I had too much to drink and not enough to eat, and when I was going to go over to my mom's house, I was drunk. I'm so sorry."
Lifting his chin to wipe the blood off of his neck, I stop him. "Hey, Matt, you don't have to apologize to me. You messed up, you realize what you did wrong, and somehow or another you're going to pay the consequences for what you did. It's not my place to judge you, it's just my place to treat you as my patient with kindness and compassion, just like I do all my patients." The cut above his right eyebrow won't stop bleeding, so I grab some gauze and cling wrap from the bag and secure it in place. "Matt, I'd like to take you to the hospital to get that stitched up."
"I...I really don't do hospitals, and I don't have health insurance." I squat down to his level and grab an ice pack. I smash it to activate it and hand it to him so he can put it on his eye which is swelling nicely.
"Matt, please. These officers here don't want you bleeding all over their jail; that's why they called me here to clean you up. I really, really want to take you to get seen."
"I really don't want to go."
"I can't make you, but promise me that if you start to feel worse you'll call me back and let me take you?" I wipe some remaining blood off of him and use a new dressing to dry his face.
"I promise. Hey Sam?"
"Yeah, Matt." He motions for me to come in closer so that no one can hear, but it's obvious that no one's paying attention anyway.
"Only God can judge me, right?" I pause to think for a moment and then I nod.
"Well, I think so anyway." He leans back against the wall and puts his hands in his lap and closes his eyes, looking almost as if he's in prayer.
"Thanks, Sam." I look up to see him frozen in the same position as I pack away my equipment silently.
"Oh, no problem, just glad to get you cleaned up."
"No, I mean...you taught me a lot." I sort of ponder this as I head back out towards the ambulance, but I shake it off like it's nothing.

"He was totally hitting on you," Eric says, "I can't believe you were so nice to him."
"What do you mean?"
"He was a drunk driver, Sam. You shouldn't have been so nice."
"That's how I am with all my patients, why should I have been any different with him?" He pauses and looks at me, puzzled.
"He was a drunk driver?" At this point, I'm getting frustrated, and I'm not in the mood to deal with this.
"It's not my place to judge my patients! It doesn't matter who you are, if you're my patient, I'm going to take care of you. If you're a single mother, a wealthy lawyer, a crack addict, a pedophile, a drunk driver," I say with a sneer, "you're still my patient. It's not my place to decide who gets good care and who gets the shit-tastic care of the day. You can hate the sin and love the sinner." I pause, and think. "Only God can judge me."

Taking a deep breath, I apologize briefly, muttering something under my breath.

Thanks, Matt I think to myself, you taught me a lot.