Doctor, Mummy...Wife?. Dianne Drake
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I’ll do the same.”
Del laughed. “You were right up to a point. I was entitled to my maternity leave and I don’t regret taking it. But things shouldn’t have gotten so out of control here at the clinic. Someone should have called me and I might have been able to get a couple of our specialists out here to help with the overflow.”
“I tried,” Simon confessed, “but I’ll admit my attitude might have been better.”
“I didn’t read anything about a bad attitude in your application or your letters of recommendation. And even though I never met you until just a few minutes ago, I called your superiors in Boston and they gave you glowing reviews.”
“Probably anxious to get me out of there. I’m a pretty fair doctor but I do let things get to me too easily, I suppose. You know, take it all too personally.”
“We all do at times. And I suppose especially the newcomer who’s being the logical target.” For a moment, a softness flashed through his eyes.
“Six months is a long time to be away.”
“Not long enough,” she replied. “I was actually thinking about another six, but I love my work as much as you seem to love yours. So I came back.”
“Straight into the arms of a disgruntled employee.”
“Nice, sturdy arms, though. And I’m willing to bet they hold no grudges.”
“Me? Hold a grudge?” He laughed outright. “Grudge is my middle name. Ask my ex-wife.”
“Think I’ll stay out of the family problems.”
“So, I understand you’re raising your baby all on your own.”
“Yes, it’s just Charlie and me but that’s the way I planned it.”
“Well, I suppose that’s the way to do it if you want to keep your autonomy.”
“More like my sanity.” They meandered down the hall to the clinic’s nursing hub and she picked up the first chart off the stack. “And contrary to popular belief, I am sane.”
“Reasonable, too, dealing with me as diplomatically as you have this morning. I must confess that when I heard you were coming back I put together some mighty well-chosen words for you.”
“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