Doctor, Mummy...Wife?

“So I noticed,” she said as she opened the chart and looked at the info contained inside. “But they could have been worse.” The first patient was a child named Sam with some sort of rash. Her first fear was a communicable rash and her next fear was that she might transfer something to Charlie. Truth was, if she didn’t get over her irrational fears, she wasn’t going to be any good as a pediatrician anymore. Most kids that came in were communicable and if she worried about carrying something home to her baby every time she came into contact with a sick kid, she’d drive herself crazy. Plus there was also the possibility that she might be too cautious to make a proper diagnosis. Obsession. That was what it was called. She had an obsession, and she wondered for a moment if she should seek professional help for it. But the instant she stepped in Sam’s exam room and saw the rash she knew the poor kid was miserable. He was obviously allergic to something with which he was coming into contact.

“Does it hurt or itch?” she asked him.

“He scratches it like crazy,” Sam’s mother answered as Sam’s eyes filled with big, fat tears.

“When did it start?”

“Three days ago?”

“What happened three days ago that changed his routine?”

“Nothing except...we went picking pumpkins in the pumpkin patch for Halloween. He’s not allergic to pumpkins, is he?”

“You’ve had pumpkins in your house before?”

“Every year,” the mother replied.

“And what about the pumpkin patch?”

“This was our first year to go.”

“I’m betting the rash is connected to the pumpkin plant.”

“He’s allergic to the plant?”

“Has there been anything else new introduced in his life since the rash popped up?”

“Not that I can think of,” the mother answered, a frown on her face indicating she was thinking. “No new food, no new clothes, my laundry detergent hasn’t changed.”

“Then for now, let’s go on the assumption that he has an allergy to the actual pumpkin plant and if the rash doesn’t clear up in a few days or it comes back we’ll investigate other possibilities and take some tests. For now, I’d rather save him the trouble, though. So, any of the over-the-counter hydrocortisone creams will help with the rash, and I’m going to give him a shot today that should speed things along.”

She looked down at Sam, who looked back at her with big, sad eyes. “Will it hurt?” he asked.

“A little bit, but you’re a big boy and you can take it.” In reality Sam was only five and at an age where needles really scared kids. Some people never outgrew the phobia and she didn’t want to make this too traumatic on this poor child. “Anyway, let me go get you some ointment samples, and have the shot prepared, and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

True to her word, Del appeared back in Sam’s room a few minutes later with a syringe full of antihistamine and a bag full of samples. Once she’d convinced Sam the needle wouldn’t hurt that much, she gave him the injection, and wrote down instructions for his mother to follow, including the antihistamine to be taken three times a day in small doses. “This should clear up in about three days,” she told Sam’s mother on the way out. “If it doesn’t, call me. In fact, call me either way because I’m curious if he is allergic to pumpkin vines. That’s kind of an odd allergy...”

Actually, nothing in the allergy world was odd. People had reactions to everything—to the expected as well as the unexpected, as in Sam’s case.

* * *

Her first day back dragged. She couldn’t get herself into the rhythm to save her soul. And between her hourly calls to check on Charlie and her work she was ready to go home by noon. But she’d just have to understand that this was the way it was. She loved her baby and she worried. Although, by the time her fourth call rolled around, she was sure the child center over at Lakeside was probably sick of her calling. So she vowed to not call after she took her lunch hour with Charlie. Which turned out to be around one o’clock.

“Momma missed you,” she said, picking him up and kissing him, then walking around the room with him.

“Am I being a nuisance?” she asked Mrs. Rogers, the director.

“Pretty much, yes,” she answered, smiling. “But the first few weeks aren’t easy. So we’re pretty forgiving.”

“I miss him, and it’s all I can do to keep from coming over here, getting him and taking him home.”

“You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last,” Mrs. Rogers replied. She was an older woman, short gray hair, and a registered nurse, retired.

No one could have better credentials or more experience with children, and Del considered herself lucky that they’d had an opening for Charlie, as the child center was usually booked months in advance. As it turned out, she’d reserved a spot even before he was born in the anticipation of returning to work and the timeline had worked out perfectly.

Del sighed heavily as Charlie snuggled into her and dozed off. “It’s amazing the way they can change a life so drastically, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Rogers laughed. “Too bad we can’t keep them all young and innocent, the way he is now. But if we did we wouldn’t get grandbabies, and I’ve got to tell you there’s a certain sense of satisfaction in being a grandmother.”

“How many grandkids do you have?” Del asked her as she laid Charlie back down in the crib.

“Five, so far. One on the way.”

“That’s awesome,” Del replied.

“What about your parents?”

“Grandparents in absentia. They live in Costa Rica and travel back every couple of months to spoil Charlie.”

“No husband?”

Del shook her head. “By design it’s just the two of us.”

“I admire a woman who knows what she wants and goes out and gets it.”

“And I admire you for taking such good care of all these children.”

“My assistants and I love children, and, since we’re all retired pediatric nurses, it’s a good way to still stay involved.”

Del smiled as she kissed her sleeping Prince Charming goodbye and returned to her clinic, feeling much more relieved than she had only an hour ago. In fact, this was the first time she thought it might actually work out, working full-time instead of part-time as well as being a full-time mom. At least, there was room for optimism in the scenario now. For which she was glad because she loved her work with a passion.

* * *

“Little Tommy Whitsett is here,” Rochelle said to Simon as he left an exam room where the child had a blueberry stuck up his nose. “I think it’s another case of nursemaid’s elbow.” Where a quick tug of a toddler’s arm oftentimes resulted in partial dislocation of an elbow ligament. In Tommy’s case it was a chronic condition, one caused when his older brother tugged a little too hard on Tommy’s arm, causing the ligament to snap out like a rubber band and not reset properly. It was typical of toddlers and Tommy would most likely outgrow the tendency in another year or two, but until then there was nothing really fixable as it wasn’t a serious injury. And the fix was easy. One gentle pop usually set the ligament right back where it belonged. Tommy got his lollipop and went home to have other wrestling matches with his brother.

“Have him shown to Room Three,” Simon said, and joined Tommy there a moment later. This was the third time he’d seen the child for the same injury in the past couple of months.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening, Doctor,” his poor, red-faced mother said. “But when they get to playing...” She shrugged.

“No big deal. He’ll outgrow this eventually, and that will be that.”

“But I feel so foolish coming in here so often. I’m afraid it might look to some like I’m an abusive parent.”

Admittedly, at one time Simon had wondered if Tommy’s handling at home was too rough, but he had a different attitude now that he’d met the cause face-to-face—a much bigger, sturdier brother—and witnessed the worry in Tommy’s mother’s face. “Boys will be boys. You just happen to have one who’s a little more elastic than the other one ever was. No big deal. Maybe have a word with his big brother to try and persuade him pulling his brother’s arm isn’t such a great idea.”

“I have tried, Doctor. It always scares me.”

“A lot of mothers get petrified if their child coughs or sneezes. That’s the proof of parenthood, I guess.”

“You’re not a parent, are you, Doctor?” she asked him.

He hesitated for a minute, then shook his head. “Haven’t had that opportunity yet.” If ever again.

“Well, it’s not easy.”

He thought back to Del and recalled the strain on her face at simply leaving her baby behind in a safe environment. Maybe he should have more empathy for her, going through separation anxiety as she was. But he found that difficult as he didn’t know how to show it for someone who’d made deliberate choices. Like Yvette, who’d pulled Amy out of his life altogether. He’d been the only father the child had known, albeit he was the stepfather. Then when his ex-wife met someone else, his feelings for Amy didn’t matter. So he was understandably still bitter and some of his personal reactions still reflected that. “You’re right. It’s not easy,” he said to Tommy’s mother.

“I guess,” Tommy’s mother said. “But I wish it was sometimes.”

“Parenting is never easy. It makes us realize just how powerless we are in so many situations. And I know you hate that vulnerability, but in your case you’ve got two fine, healthy sons and at the end of the day that’s quite an accomplishment.”

“Let me tell you a secret, Doctor. There’s never an end to the day. Parenting is so hard, and it never stops.”

“And you love it, don’t you?”

“Except for when I have to bring Tommy in for another case of nursemaid’s elbow.” She smiled. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

* * *

“Challenging case, Dr. Carson?” Simon asked after he walked Tommy and his mother back to the waiting room.

“If I thought you were interested because you were really interested, I might answer that question, but somehow I think you’ll snipe at me for taking the easy cases today since you’re so distracted, so all I’ll tell you is that we divide them as they come in and leave it at that.”

“That’s right. I’m not a partner. Just a lowly employee. I’m not privy to the inner workings of what goes on around here.”

“You’re causing a scene over a case of pinkeye?”

“You’re treating pinkeye, I’m treating a kid with possible asthma. Are you going to tell me it all evens out?”

“I’m sorry for your diagnosis,” she said sympathetically. “And if you’d rather not...”

“It’s not that I’d rather not. But what I was wondering is if we get to pick and choose our cases or if we just get them according to what’s up next, and who our established patients are.”

“If you’re trying to insult me, I have thick skin, Doctor.”

“Not trying to insult you, Doctor. Just trying to figure things out now that you’re back.”

“Well, figure this out. It’s a fair system. I don’t take all the easy cases and assign the tougher cases to my colleagues. You were treating an easy case of nursemaid’s elbow when I was treating a little girl with Erb’s palsy. Unless a patient requests a specific doctor we take whoever’s up next, regardless of the easiness or severity of their condition.” She bit her tongue to hold the rest in but didn’t do a very good job of it because the rest slipped out. She knew this had to be tough on Simon, working in basically a new situation, especially with his credentials. “Trust me—it’s fair.”

“It’s always good to know my standing.”

“Sure it is. You got stuck in a jammed-up clinic when I was gone and you’re blaming me for it. So now you want some answers. Can’t say that I blame you. Reverse the situation and I’d be asking the same questions.”

* * *

Simon kicked off his shoes and set his mug of coffee next to the sofa. Sighing, he popped an old classic movie into his DVD player then dropped down on the couch with his bowl of cold cereal, contented to spend the evening vegetating.

He’d gotten off to a rough start with Del and, to be honest, was surprised she hadn’t fired him on the spot. There really was no excuse for his questions, especially when he knew the answers. But he’d been in the mood to antagonize someone and Del had seemed to be it.

The thing was, he’d called to talk to Amy this morning and was told by her latest stepfather that he had no rights to the girl any longer, to please not call back or he’d be served with a restraining order. Damn! He missed her. Red hair and freckles, with a little gap between her front teeth—sometimes he swore he’d stayed married to her mother just because Amy was so endearing. But that was obviously over and now he wasn’t even allowed to talk to her any more. It hurt. It stung to the bone because he missed Amy with all his heart. Didn’t know how he was going to get along without her. And Del, well...she’d just caught some of his fallout. Wrong place, wrong time and with a child who was making her so happy—happy the way he’d used to be.

Well, one thing was for sure. He’d never, ever get involved with a woman who already had a child. It just opened him up to getting hurt again.

In the meantime, he owed Del a big apology for being so confrontational over everything today. She didn’t deserve it just because she’d had a child.

He owed her an apology and it wouldn’t keep until tomorrow. He opened his clinic information packet and found her cell-phone number. On impulse, he dialed.

“Hello,” she answered, almost in a whisper.

“Del, this is Simon Michaels.”

“And?”

“I may have been a little harsh with you today.”

“Not so I noticed,” she lied. “It was a tough day for everybody.”

“Still, I wasn’t myself and I’m calling to apologize.”

“No need. I wasn’t at my best, either, this being my first day back and all. Look, you woke up my baby. I’ve got to go. Can I call you back?”

“No need for that. I just wanted to apologize.”

“Thanks, Simon,” she said, and with that she hung up on him. And he actually chuckled. She was interesting, to say the least. Definitely her own woman marching to her own beat.

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