Dr.Aldridge gives him a look that could bench a grown man.“Eating once a day is not a strategy, Philippe.It’s self-sabotage.”
Vesper makes a sound in her throat.“He does that.He gets busy and?—”
“I know,” Dr.Aldridge says, not unkindly.“A lot of people do.Especially people who are used to pushing through discomfort and ignoring their bodies.”
Philippe mutters something that sounds likehockey players don’t complain.
The doctor doesn’t bite.She taps her tablet.“His labs show vitamin deficiencies—B12 and D are both low.Mild anemia.Electrolytes are a little off.Nothing catastrophic, but enough to make him more vulnerable to dizziness and fainting.Add in stress, lack of sleep, working long hours, and it creates the perfect conditions for an episode—or two.”
Vesper’s eyes narrow.“Stress.”
Dr.Aldridge meets her gaze.“Stress matters.It affects appetite, blood pressure, sleep, and recovery.I understand your dad’s been carrying the camp and pretending he’s fine.That has a cost.”
Vesper’s jaw flexes like she wants to fight the universe.
The doctor turns to Philippe.“We’re also being cautious because of your age and your history.Sixty-five is not old, but it’s old enough that we don’t shrug off syncope.”
Philippe grunts.
Dr.Aldridge gestures to a small device clipped under his gown.“You’ll be wearing a Holter monitor.It’s going to record your heart rhythm for the next couple of weeks so we can rule out an arrhythmia.”
“Great,” Philippe mutters.“I’m a science project.”
“You’re alive,” Vesper says.“Be grateful.What happens now?”
“He’ll come back next week for more tests,” Dr.Aldridge says.“An echocardiogram.Follow-up labs.We’ll also do a stress test once we’re confident he’s stable.For now, he needs hydration, regular meals, supplements, and he needs to reduce physical strain until his body recovers.”
Philippe opens his mouth.
The doctor cuts him off with one raised finger.“That means no pretending you’re twenty-five.No hauling heavy equipment.No skipping meals because you’re busy.No working twelve-hour days because you’re stubborn.”
“And if he does it anyway?”Vesper asks.
Dr.Aldridge looks at her, and the answer is firm.“Then he risks another episode.He risks falling and injuring himself.He risks something worse if there’s an underlying rhythm issue.We’re not catastrophizing.We’re being responsible.”
Vesper nods, swallowing hard.“Okay.”
Dr.Aldridge’s gaze softens slightly.“I also want him to have someone with him for the next few days.No driving long distances alone.”
“We’re taking him back to Juniper Ridge,” I say, as I pull out my phone to text Harvey.“I’ll hire a couple of nurses and make sure there’s a team helping him with the camp.”
Dr.Aldridge glances at me.“Good.”
Philippe looks at me—more like glares—then nods once.“Fine.But I’m not lying in bed like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying,” the doctor says.“You’re adjusting.There’s a difference.”She turns back to Vesper.“We’ll schedule follow-ups in the clinic after we get the results from the Holter monitor.If he experiences chest pain, shortness of breath, severe dizziness, or another fainting episode, you come back immediately.”
Vesper nods again, absorbing it like it’s a language she has to learn fast.
Dr.Aldridge looks at us.“Questions?”
I clear my throat.“Should we take him back to Portland instead until he’s good to go?”
The doctor considers.“Altitude shouldn’t be an issue.The bigger issue is exertion and hydration.If he’s at a higher elevation, dehydration can hit harder.Regular meals, fluids, rest.”
Monty asks, blunt and direct, “Can he keep running the camp?”
The doctor’s eyes narrow slightly.“He can oversee.He cannot do everything.He needs help.”
