“Exactly!” Good answer. “He was smiling, he was drinking, he was playing. His exam was negative. He’s probably going to be just fine.”
In medicine, you played the odds. You weren’t God, and you had to make tough choices, a million of them, every single day. Sometimes you had to be a cowboy, and other times you had to be a diligent professor.
“What if we missed an early otitis?” She wrung her hands. “I just—don’t want anything to happen. Maybe I’ll do a blood count to reassure myself that this is viral.”
I examined her carefully. She was a clinical decision-making wreck.
Finally, I simply told her what to do. “Counsel the mom to use Tylenol, especially at night, and call if Henry gets worse. It’s the best we can do.”
She gave a grateful nod. “Okay. Yes, I see. Thank you, Ani.”
She went to finish up with the family while I collapsed into a chair in our little conference room. I tugged at my blouse collar. I was sweating. I hadn’t made any waves since I started here. I’d played by all the rules.
But I was about to instigate a tsunami.
Helen sat a few seats away eating a sandwich and studying a stack of brochures of warm and wonderful places, Turks and Caicos among them.
Oh. As my mind did so many times through the day, it turned to Adam.
He’d been so wonderful. He’d supported me and helped make my case.
My blind passion to rescue this baby had an unintended consequence. It was about to kill my relationship—maybe budding relationship?—with Adam. If it was budding, which was a bit unclear. But what normal man would want an insta-girlfriend with an insta-kid? Add agrievingman into that mix and you got…well, whatever you got, it wasn’t a sudden big happy family. That was a no-brainer.
But that was what I wanted, right? I did not want a relationship.
I was undertaking this huge life-altering event—and I had no intention of asking a man to come along with me.
And this man couldn’t.
And I definitely didn’t need him to.
Even though he’d been there for me more than I ever expected.
I found myself thinking back to Turks and Caicos. Thinking about how he’d touched me. So gently, so carefully. So…magically. I was reliving that—a lot. But also wanting to do other things—like, hang out with him. Ask him things about himself. Touch his nice hair and feel his muscly muscles.
And then I thought of Dr. No-Pizza-Rule, and I wondered how both Adams could be wrapped up in that same gorgeous bod.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked. Why was I thinking these thoughts when I was about T-minus-ten seconds away from upending all of our lives?
Helen swallowed and set down her sandwich. “I said, this thing with Penelope isn’t getting any better.”
“No, it’s not,” I admitted.
“You said you’d work with her, but she’s using you like a crutch.”
I hated thoseYousentences. Ascribing blame. Not sayingWe. As if this were my problem alone.
“I’m trying to make her think through the decision-making. Maybe that will help.”
“She hasn’t got the pediatrician gene,” Helen said. “I’m thinking we might need to schedule a meeting. The writing is on the wall.”
I froze. I couldn’t allow this situation to get to that. I knew how much Penelope, as a single mom, needed this job. Plus, she was nice. She just needed confidence.
Unfortunately, confidence didn’t come in a pill. Or a syringe. If it did, I’d booster her right up with one.
“Hey, what’s up?” Penelope asked as she blew into the room and sat down, a little breathless. “I gave that mom my cell phone in case she needs to call me.”
I bit back my words because if I said something, Helen would pounce. I decided to tell her privately later that if she valued any part of her life, then never, ever give a patient her privatenumber. And that’s not even counting the documentation and malpractice reasons.
