Revealing The Real Dr Robinson. Dianne Drake
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it’s not an issue for you, because it’s not for me.”
“You’re the only one I’ve ever told, Shanna.”
“And that’s as far as it goes. I hope you’ll trust that, because we all have our past mistakes. Believe me, I have my share.” Rebelliousness, a husband she never should have married. Definitely a few mistakes there. “But live and learn, or live and wallow. What you’re doing here in Argentina isn’t wallowing, and that’s what matters.”
He nodded, seemed to accept that explanation from her, then smiled. “No, being in Argentina isn’t about wallowing because I’ve always loved it here. The people are great, and they’re also very appreciative of our efforts—even the little things that don’t matter so much in most medical facilities. You know, give them an aspirin for a headache and they’re thankful. Back home, you give a patient an aspirin and, well, let’s just say it’s not likely to be received in the best spirit.”
Something she understood completely. Her family employed a cadre of lawyers to keep all things worked out, including the irate patient who might refuse an aspirin for a headache then turn around and sue because she’d wanted a narcotic. As part owner of Brooks Medical Center, Shanna understood that all too well. Which made Ben’s set up here seem all the more appealing. “Well, I may need an aspirin for some legs aches if you don’t slow down. You’re tall, long legs, I’m having a hard time keeping up.”
He stopped, measured her up, nodded. “Somehow, I don’t think you’ve ever had a hard time keeping up. In fact, I’m betting that in one way or another you’re always out in the lead.”
“Not all the time,” she said, hearing the sadness starting to slip into her voice. “Sometimes I’m so far behind I’m not sure I’ll ever catch up.”
Ben stopped. Turned to face her. “Which has nothing to do with our walking pace.”
“Nothing.” She was surprised by his responsiveness. Had she made a cryptic remark like that to her ex-husband, he wouldn’t have caught on. But Ben did. He absolutely did, which tweaked a change in her opinion of him. Made it a little softer in her estimation. And a little less dispassionate.
“If I slow down, are you going to tell me why you want to be like me? I’m not sure I like the idea of being watched that closely.”
“Some people might be flattered.”
“Or suspicious,” he countered.
“Or hanging on by a thread.”
“Let me guess. You’ve come to a crossroad, don’t know which way to go, so your choice is to copycat me?” He resumed walking, but much slower this time. “Let me tell you, Shanna. That sounds crazy.”
“I know. But all my options at that crossroad are leading me to another career path.”
“Then flip a coin.”
“Would, if I could. But it’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. You’re a family practitioner. That seems like a pretty good path to me. So stay on the path you’re already on and figure out how to make it work. If you still enjoy practicing medicine.”
That was exactly what she was doing, trying to figure out how to make it work. But Ben didn’t need to be privy to these things about her, especially the part where she wanted to figure out how to separate herself from the emotion the way he did. Telling him everything would only make him wary and watchful of her weaknesses, the way her grandfather had been.
Here, at Caridad, she had the perfect opportunity to work one on one with the exact kind of doctor she had to become in order to survive—the doctor who didn’t flinch or cry when her patient died, or didn’t get so emotionally invested she lost sleep, couldn’t eat. Her grandfather had called her a sissified practitioner. Her father had backed that up and no one else in her family had come to her defense, which meant they all agreed to some extent, if not totally.
But, then, look at them, the stalwart Brooks family doctors—her parents, grandparents, brothers. Why would they back her up when they were so entrenched in the Brooks family ways? She was the ousted, the one who didn’t fit. If she wanted back in, she was the one who had to do the changing. Thing was, she wasn’t sure anymore if she really wanted in, and maybe that was what bothered her. However it went, for now, she was exploring options, and Ben was the best option she’d come across. “I love practicing medicine. But for the moment I’m openly observing all paths and leaving it at that.” Such a confusing place to be.
“Well, in that case, this path leads to Vera Santos, who had a stroke about a year ago. She gets along fairly well, takes care of her grandchildren during the day when their parents are working, and she has a passion for eating anything and everything that will elevate her blood pressure.”
That caught her interest, shook her right out of her confusion. “What medication is she on? Chlorothiazide or furosemide?”
“No medicine. But she’s eating more fish and grain. Garlic, too. And she’s currently concentrating on eating more vegetables and fewer sweets.”
“Is it working?”
“Marginally. Her blood pressure is still high, but not as high as it was when she had her stroke last year. Which I’d consider progress.”
“Progress would be convincing her to take a pill.”
“Which she won’t do because she doesn’t trust our kind of medicine.”
“So she doesn’t get treated? Her medical condition is like a ticking time bomb, Ben. You know the statistics, she’s ten times as likely to have a second stroke because she’s already had one and her hypertension isn’t controlled. I mean, how can we let that happen?” It didn’t seem acceptable, especially with a condition that could kill her. And there she went again, heart on her sleeve and emotional involvement she shouldn’t be having.
“She does get treated, Shanna. She’s on a better diet, she’s losing weight—doing nicely at it, her blood pressure is lowering, and I check her once a week. More, if she’s not feeling well. And the big thing is, if she refuses my treatment, and I have offered a variety of options, including pills, I can’t force it down her throat.”
Ben held the gate open for Shanna, then followed her up the path to the front door. “We deal in realities here. It would be nice to give her a pill, but the reality is, she’s allowing me to do only what she wants me to do. It’s all I have to work with. I don’t like it, because my preference would be something more aggressive. But it’s not my preference, so I have to make do and be glad she allows me to do what I’m doing. The alternative could be doing nothing at all.”
And there was his practical side, the one that didn’t jump in with both feet and get emotionally tangled up at the start. “But she knows the consequences. I tell her every time I see her. Don’t like the result, but it’s her decision to make, her consequence to deal with.”
Shanna knew about choices and consequences. She was living the consequence of her choice now. Somehow, though, losing a family, which she feared was part of what was at stake for her, didn’t equate to losing a life, which was exactly what Vera Santos had at risk here—her life. So who really cared that she was already over the emotional edge for this patient? It wasn’t like her grandfather was standing there, calling her a sissy for caring. He wasn’t. Quite simply, Shanna wanted to help Vera Santos and that didn’t make her a sissified practitioner, no matter what anybody said.
“What if I can persuade her?” she asked. “What if I can get her to agree to take the pills?”
“That sure of yourself?” he asked.
“That sure of human nature.” She knocked on the front door, then smiled at him. “And of myself.”
“Well, if you’re that sure, here’s the deal.” A mischievous glint popped into his eyes. “You get her to agree to the pills and after house calls I’ll show you around