That would be a no, then. Tommy pressed the sweater a little bit tighter to the wound with just one hand and used the other to swiftly unlatch his medical bag and find the stethoscope within. It was easy enough for him to get it in place and press the drum to the man's side. He tipped his head curiously to the side, moved the drum, and listened again. He shifted once more and braced the sweater with his knee in order to tap on his chest. At least it wasn't worse. All of the bleeding seemed to be making its way outside. That was, in fact, good news. He didn't have a CT scan here and the ultrasound equipment left something to be desired.
"Unfortunately," Tommy said, "I can't not. Even if I wanted to. I took an oath. I will apply, yadda-yadda, all measures which are required. So on and so forth." His bedside manner wasn't as top-notch as it usually was, but it was the end of his day according to his routine and his metaphorical mask had been left behind on his office desk. Besides, this man didn't look like someone who enjoyed having things sugar-coated for him. Far be it from him to deny him the blunt truth.
The blood wasn't quite staunched, but it was good enough for now. And it wasn't that far from the clinic. "Alright," Tommy said. "We're going to try to get you up on your feet. I will say this is a terrible idea, but my only other choice is to let you bleed out on the floor while I go get assistance or equipment, and, as we already discussed, I can't do that." He moved to the opposite side, double-checking the man wasn't going to gush blood all over the place as soon as he was verticle, and then slipped his own shoulders under the impressively large arm.
He was stronger than he looked, but it still took a bit of effort to get him up and make sure that he was still holding the blood-soaked sweater over the wound. "Right this way," he said as if he wasn't doing most of the work.