“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, on the verge of blubbering now. “I can’t help you today.”
His eyes grow a fraction, then he scratches his head. “Oh. Well, I think you have the wrong idea. Because I’m not the Dr. Lipinsky you’re expecting.”
“Oh? There are two of you?”
“My father passed away just days ago. It was out of the blue, a heart attack.”
My troubles recede into the background. “I’m very sorry for your unexpected loss.”
He nods, his mouth grim. “Well, it was quick and he was seventy-one. They sent a real bugler to play ‘Taps.’ He served in Vietnam.”
“Oh wow. Was he in combat?”
“Sure. Got a Purple Heart.” His nose pinkens, and he sniffs.
“May I get you something to drink?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry you had to drive all this way.”
“I live just ten minutes away. I called, but the line was busy, so I thought I’d just stop by on my way home.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at a cluster of rosebushes.
“Would you like some roses?” It’s the least I could do. Somehow I dodged a bullet, but not in a way I would have wanted.
“I’m afraid we can’t have flowers in the office because of our patients’ allergies.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of doctor are you?”
“An otolaryngologist.”
“Excuse me?”
He smiles. “Ear, nose, and throat.”
Nose?Why not? I have nothing to lose. “Um, Doctor, could you tell if I have a cold?”
“Probably. Haven’t you had a cold before?”
“When I was ten, but I don’t remember much about it.”
“What about allergies?”
“No.”
“Well, what are your symptoms?”
“I can’t smell. I mean, I can smell, but notsmellsmell.” What the heck does that mean?
His forehead creases. “Any coughing? Malaise? Phlegm? Fever?”
I shake my head.
The doctor reaches out toward my face. “Mind if I?”
“Okay, but first I have to get something.” I wave my hand at a bench. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
I dash to the garage. Pulling my sleeve over my hand, I rummage through a cabinet for surgical gloves. We use them to handle plants that stain. At least doctors are accustomed to wearing gloves. I better make that BBG ASAP.
