Now That You Mention It
Page 40
“Text me when you get back to the island, so I know you made it safe and sound.” Bobby stood up and hugged me again, kissed me on the cheek.
Then kissed me on the mouth. A quick kiss, but warm and firm. A reminder of life before the Big Bad Event.
“Take care,” I said and walked away as fast as I could manage.
For the first time, it occurred to me that maybe taking a break was exactly what Bobby and I had needed.
14
A few days after the Boomer swap, I was at the clinic, doing computer work. As Gloria had said, most of our cases were really basic stuff—I’d seen a girl for a sprained ankle, a teenager who’d been stung four times by bees and was hysterical (though not allergic) and now an elderly woman with severe stomach pains due to constipation.
“I haven’t pooped for eleven days,” she growled. I suppressed a wince. It wasn’t uncommon in elderly people, but jeezum crow! No wonder she was snarling.
“I’ll let you handle this, Dr. Stuart,” Dr. Ames said, beaming at the patient. Gloria and I strongly suspected her coffee was laced with alcohol, though I had to give it to her. Her lipstick was perfect. “I once had a patient with such severe impaction, she was seven pounds lighter when we discharged her! I have never seen so much stool in my life!” She smiled, pleased with the memory.
“Thanks for sharing,” I said.
“You’re welcome!” She raised her voice. “Mrs. Constantine, Nora is excellent at disimpaction. Aren’t you, darling? Very gentle hands! Well, I have calls to make. Let me know if you need me, Nora, dear!” She wobbled off to her office.
“Why is she yelling at me?” the patient asked.
“She’s a unique personality,” I said. “But she’s right, I’m good at this.”
“Good,” she said. “The last time I had this done, it felt like the doctor used an elephant tusk.”
“We got rid of all our tusks last year,” I said, smiling.
I’ll spare you the details, but one gently administered enema later, and armed with some glycerine suppositories, Mrs. Constantine left, a happier woman.
“Busy day,” Gloria commented as I finished the report and sent it to the insurance company. “Are you dying of boredom?”
“Not at all. It’s kind of fun, seeing all different types of cases.”
“Do you miss Boston?”
“A little. Do you?”
“Well, I’m not from the city proper, you know?” she said.
“What brought you out here, anyway? Aside from the lobsterman fantasy, that is?”
“I wanted a change. I like the slower pace on the island, and I like running this place. No offense.” She smiled. “My family’s pretty intense. Like every other day, someone’s having a first Communion or a christening or a baby. My mother calls me four times a day just to ‘catch up.’ I have to pretend the cell service sucks out here just to get some peace and quiet. I love them, but too much of a good thing, you know?”
“Not really. Maybe we could trade families.”
“You’re not close with yours, I take it?”
I shrugged. “You’ve met my mom.”
“She’s an impressive woman.”
I felt an unexpected flash of pride. “She is. Not warm and cuddly, though.”
The bell buzzed, letting us know we had another patient. “Four in one day,” Gloria said, pulling a face. “Grand Central Station here. I’ll go see what’s up.”
A few minutes later, Gloria called me to the exam room. It was Mr. Carver, the man who’d occasionally given my father work. First name Henry, according to his chart. “Hi, Mr. Carver,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”
“Oh, Nora,” he said, blushing. “Ah...I didn’t expect you.”
“BP is normal, heart rate’s perfect, O2 sat 98 percent,” Gloria said. “Call if you need me.” She left the room.
“What can I do for you today?” I asked.
“Well... Is there another doctor I can see?” he asked. “A man?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He sighed.
“Everything you say will be confidential, Mr. Carver.”
“You don’t seem old enough to be a doctor.”
I always loved that comment. “Well, I’m thirty-five. Tufts undergrad, Tufts Medical School, fellowship at Boston City, partner at Boston Gastroenterology Associates, board certified in family practice and gastroenterology... Shall I go on?”
“It’s just...personal.”
“I assure you, I’ve heard everything.”
He blushed.
“Erectile dysfunction?” I guessed.
He looked away, his face getting redder. “Bingo.”
He’d been put on blood pressure medication, a classic cause of ED. I asked him some questions and did an exam. He was basically the guy for whom Viagra had been invented. I wrote him a prescription, went over the side effects and warning signs and recommended a pharmacy in Portland if he didn’t want it filled here.
“This is great,” he said, clearly relieved. “Thanks, Nora. I mean Dr. Stuart.”
“Nora’s just fine,” I said.
“Your mom must be very proud of you.”
“I hope so. Hey, I was wondering...do you know anyone who might be interested in...well, in dating my mother? I worry about her being too lonely.”
His face colored again. “She’s... Well, I, ah, I’d have to give that some thought.”
“I know, I know, I’m matchmaking, but what can I say?” I smiled. “Everyone deserves love, right? Let me know if you have any questions about the medication.”
He left, still blushing. Too bad he was married. I wouldn’t have minded him for a stepfather.
I hadn’t seen my mom for a few days, though I’d left a message on her landline; she didn’t have a cell. Poe had come over for supper on hug therapy night and made a few grunts as I tried to ask her questions. Progress.
I stuck my head in Gloria’s office. “I’m off to see my mom,” I told her. “Want me to bring you any lunch?”
“I’m eating a salad,” she said, pulling a face. “Kale.”
“Your digestive track will thank you. Okay, see you in a bit.”
The Excelsior Pines, where Mom had long worked, was a beautiful white, three-story hotel on the water with unrivaled views. It was a popular place for weddings in the summer and ran special fall and winter packages in the off-seasons to lure the mainlanders here.
Mrs. Krazinski worked at the front desk—mother of Lizzy Krizzy. “Hi, Mrs. K,” I said as I came in. Her name tag said “Donna.” Funny, how when you’re a kid, you never know the names of the adults.
“Hello there, Nora,” she said. “Your mother told me you were back for the summer! How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you? How’s Lizzy?”
“Oh, she’s fine. Lives in Connecticut now, works on Wall Street. Her husband stays home with their kids. Three of them now.” She whipped out her phone and flashed a picture of a smiling family at me. Lizzy looked just the same.
“Aw, that’s great. Tell her I said hi, will you?” Nice to hear she was doing well.
I remembered that their house has been listed as a rental. “So where are you and Mr. K living these days?” I asked. “I saw your house listed as a rental.”
Then kissed me on the mouth. A quick kiss, but warm and firm. A reminder of life before the Big Bad Event.
“Take care,” I said and walked away as fast as I could manage.
For the first time, it occurred to me that maybe taking a break was exactly what Bobby and I had needed.
14
A few days after the Boomer swap, I was at the clinic, doing computer work. As Gloria had said, most of our cases were really basic stuff—I’d seen a girl for a sprained ankle, a teenager who’d been stung four times by bees and was hysterical (though not allergic) and now an elderly woman with severe stomach pains due to constipation.
“I haven’t pooped for eleven days,” she growled. I suppressed a wince. It wasn’t uncommon in elderly people, but jeezum crow! No wonder she was snarling.
“I’ll let you handle this, Dr. Stuart,” Dr. Ames said, beaming at the patient. Gloria and I strongly suspected her coffee was laced with alcohol, though I had to give it to her. Her lipstick was perfect. “I once had a patient with such severe impaction, she was seven pounds lighter when we discharged her! I have never seen so much stool in my life!” She smiled, pleased with the memory.
“Thanks for sharing,” I said.
“You’re welcome!” She raised her voice. “Mrs. Constantine, Nora is excellent at disimpaction. Aren’t you, darling? Very gentle hands! Well, I have calls to make. Let me know if you need me, Nora, dear!” She wobbled off to her office.
“Why is she yelling at me?” the patient asked.
“She’s a unique personality,” I said. “But she’s right, I’m good at this.”
“Good,” she said. “The last time I had this done, it felt like the doctor used an elephant tusk.”
“We got rid of all our tusks last year,” I said, smiling.
I’ll spare you the details, but one gently administered enema later, and armed with some glycerine suppositories, Mrs. Constantine left, a happier woman.
“Busy day,” Gloria commented as I finished the report and sent it to the insurance company. “Are you dying of boredom?”
“Not at all. It’s kind of fun, seeing all different types of cases.”
“Do you miss Boston?”
“A little. Do you?”
“Well, I’m not from the city proper, you know?” she said.
“What brought you out here, anyway? Aside from the lobsterman fantasy, that is?”
“I wanted a change. I like the slower pace on the island, and I like running this place. No offense.” She smiled. “My family’s pretty intense. Like every other day, someone’s having a first Communion or a christening or a baby. My mother calls me four times a day just to ‘catch up.’ I have to pretend the cell service sucks out here just to get some peace and quiet. I love them, but too much of a good thing, you know?”
“Not really. Maybe we could trade families.”
“You’re not close with yours, I take it?”
I shrugged. “You’ve met my mom.”
“She’s an impressive woman.”
I felt an unexpected flash of pride. “She is. Not warm and cuddly, though.”
The bell buzzed, letting us know we had another patient. “Four in one day,” Gloria said, pulling a face. “Grand Central Station here. I’ll go see what’s up.”
A few minutes later, Gloria called me to the exam room. It was Mr. Carver, the man who’d occasionally given my father work. First name Henry, according to his chart. “Hi, Mr. Carver,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”
“Oh, Nora,” he said, blushing. “Ah...I didn’t expect you.”
“BP is normal, heart rate’s perfect, O2 sat 98 percent,” Gloria said. “Call if you need me.” She left the room.
“What can I do for you today?” I asked.
“Well... Is there another doctor I can see?” he asked. “A man?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He sighed.
“Everything you say will be confidential, Mr. Carver.”
“You don’t seem old enough to be a doctor.”
I always loved that comment. “Well, I’m thirty-five. Tufts undergrad, Tufts Medical School, fellowship at Boston City, partner at Boston Gastroenterology Associates, board certified in family practice and gastroenterology... Shall I go on?”
“It’s just...personal.”
“I assure you, I’ve heard everything.”
He blushed.
“Erectile dysfunction?” I guessed.
He looked away, his face getting redder. “Bingo.”
He’d been put on blood pressure medication, a classic cause of ED. I asked him some questions and did an exam. He was basically the guy for whom Viagra had been invented. I wrote him a prescription, went over the side effects and warning signs and recommended a pharmacy in Portland if he didn’t want it filled here.
“This is great,” he said, clearly relieved. “Thanks, Nora. I mean Dr. Stuart.”
“Nora’s just fine,” I said.
“Your mom must be very proud of you.”
“I hope so. Hey, I was wondering...do you know anyone who might be interested in...well, in dating my mother? I worry about her being too lonely.”
His face colored again. “She’s... Well, I, ah, I’d have to give that some thought.”
“I know, I know, I’m matchmaking, but what can I say?” I smiled. “Everyone deserves love, right? Let me know if you have any questions about the medication.”
He left, still blushing. Too bad he was married. I wouldn’t have minded him for a stepfather.
I hadn’t seen my mom for a few days, though I’d left a message on her landline; she didn’t have a cell. Poe had come over for supper on hug therapy night and made a few grunts as I tried to ask her questions. Progress.
I stuck my head in Gloria’s office. “I’m off to see my mom,” I told her. “Want me to bring you any lunch?”
“I’m eating a salad,” she said, pulling a face. “Kale.”
“Your digestive track will thank you. Okay, see you in a bit.”
The Excelsior Pines, where Mom had long worked, was a beautiful white, three-story hotel on the water with unrivaled views. It was a popular place for weddings in the summer and ran special fall and winter packages in the off-seasons to lure the mainlanders here.
Mrs. Krazinski worked at the front desk—mother of Lizzy Krizzy. “Hi, Mrs. K,” I said as I came in. Her name tag said “Donna.” Funny, how when you’re a kid, you never know the names of the adults.
“Hello there, Nora,” she said. “Your mother told me you were back for the summer! How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you? How’s Lizzy?”
“Oh, she’s fine. Lives in Connecticut now, works on Wall Street. Her husband stays home with their kids. Three of them now.” She whipped out her phone and flashed a picture of a smiling family at me. Lizzy looked just the same.
“Aw, that’s great. Tell her I said hi, will you?” Nice to hear she was doing well.
I remembered that their house has been listed as a rental. “So where are you and Mr. K living these days?” I asked. “I saw your house listed as a rental.”
