***
“BLOOD pressure’s a little high.” Kirby removed the cuff. “Nothing major, and likely due to a slight temper fluctuation.”
“Very funny.”
Kirby warmed her stethoscope between her palms, then pressed it to Jo’s back. “Deep breath in, out. Again. You’re a tad underweight, too. Which makes the female in me green with envy and the sensible physician cluck her tongue.”
“My appetite’s been a little off lately.”
“The cooking at Sanctuary should take care of that.” And if it didn’t, Kirby intended to reevaluate. She took out her ophthalmoscope, began to examine Jo’s eyes. “Headaches?”
“Now or ever?”
“Either.”
“Now, yes, but I’d say that’s a direct result of tangling with Brian the Bully.” Then she sighed. “I suppose I’ve been getting more of them in the last few months than usual.”
“Dull and throbbing or sharp and piercing?”
“Mostly the dull and throbbing variety.”
“Dizziness, fainting, nausea?”
“I—no, not really.”
Kirby leaned back, leaving one hand resting on Jo’s shoulder. “No, or not really?” When Jo shrugged, Kirby set the instrument aside. “Honey, I’m a doctor and I’m your friend. I need you to be straight with me, and you need to know that anything you tell me inside this room stays between us.”
Jo took a deep breath, clutched her hands hard in her lap. “I had a breakdown.” The wind whooshed out of her, part fear, part relief. “About a month ago, before I came back here. I just fell apart. I couldn’t stop it.”
Saying nothing, Kirby laid both hands on Jo’s shoulders, massaged gently. Jo lifted her head and saw nothing but compassion in those soft green eyes. Her own filled. “It makes me feel like such a fool.”
“Why should it?”
“I’ve never felt that helpless. I’ve always been able to handle things, Kirby, to deal with them as they came. And then everything just piled up, heavier and heavier. And I’m not sure if I was imagining things or if they were really happening. I just don’t know. And then I collapsed. Just broke.”
“Did you see someone?”
“I didn’t have any choice. I fell apart right in front of my assistant. He carted me off to the ER, and they hospitalized me for a few days. A mental breakdown. I don’t care if we are nearing the twenty-first century, I don’t care how it’s intellectualized. I’m ashamed.”
“I’m telling you there’s nothing shameful about it and that you have every right to feel whatever you want to feel.”
Jo’s lips curved a little. “So I don’t have to be ashamed that I’m ashamed.”
“Absolutely not. What was your work schedule like?”
“Tight, but I liked it tight.”
“Your social life?”
“Nil, but I liked it nil. And yes, that pretty much goes for my sex life too. I wasn’t depressed or pining over a man or the lack of one. I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot,” Jo said slowly. “I’m nearly the same age she was when she left, when everything changed.”
And your life fell apart, Kirby thought. “And you wondered, worried, if everything was going to change again, beyond your control. I’m not a shrink, Jo, just an old-fashioned GP. That’s a friend’s speculation. What was the prognosis when you were released?”
“I don’t know, exactly.” Jo shifted, crinkling the paper beneath her. “I released myself.”
“I see. You didn’t note any prescriptions down on your form.”
“I’m not taking any. And don’t ask me what they prescribed. I never filled anything. I don’t want drugs—and I don’t want to talk to a shrink.”
