Verity didn’t like having the contingency in place, wished she could give every patient who walked through her door all the time they needed, but, alas, she was on the clock and, even though they might not know it, so were her patients. Every day was a race, as she did her best to get through her list, make phone calls, follow up on appointments, relay results, deal with any emergencies, chase various departments at various hospitals for updates and, if she were very lucky, grab a bite of a sandwich for lunch.
There it was, the sound she heard in her sleep, the knock on her door.
‘Come in!’
‘Morning, Doc.’
‘Mr Lowther, nice to see you. Please, take a seat!’
He did as instructed while she pulled up his notes. More of a novel than notes – she idly scrolled through the familiar pages and pages, listing his various ailments from A to Z.
‘What can I do for you today?’ placing the emphasis on the word ‘today,’ hinting subtly at the fact she had seen him only twoweeks ago and that he would undoubtedly pop in again before the month was out. Folding her hands on the desk top, she braced herself.
‘I’m no feeling great. The wife says I’m lookin’ a bit peely wally, thought it best to come see you.’
‘Mr Lowther, are you feeling sick or is it more like flu or do you have any particular pain? Is there an area you would like me to concentrate on? If I can get a rough idea of the issue before I examine you, that would really help. Could you be a bit more specific?’
‘No really.’ He sniffed, as if her line of questioning was inconvenient.
‘Okay, so, if you had to describe the problem, or the problem that’s causing you themostconcern, what would you say?’
It was always preferable to see Mr Lowther early in the morning when her tolerance had not been eroded by the fatigue of a long day.
‘I reckon it’s all of it.’
‘All of it?’ She’d lost the thread.
‘Aye, everything you just said, I feel sick, there’s a bit of flu and generally I’m in pain. Kinda, all over.’
Verity opened her mouth to speak, but paused, quite unsure where to go next. Wondering if she dare suggest they get right to the point, and she sign him off from work. She was, quite rightly, unhappy to make the assumption or take the risk, just in case.
‘Right, well first things first.’ She reached for her stethoscope. ‘Let’s have a listen to your chest.’
After Mr Lowther’s extended stay, the morning passed quickly.
Verity nipped to the loo and hurried back to her desk. No sooner had she restored her glasses than there was the knock on her door. A quick glance at her computer told her it was Mrs Brooks, who was twenty weeks pregnant with her third child.
‘Come in!’
And so it continued…
It was at the end of the day, as she gripped the handle of her umbrella and smiled at the cleaner, that Verity noticed the man in a dark suit, holding a briefcase and standing at the bottom of the path. It was her route to the main road and the bus stop where she would hop on the bus that would deliver her home. She left the surgery, hoping he might move. He didn’t.
‘Dr Clarke, hello.’ His smile was wide. He looked healthy, certainly not in urgent need of medical care that she could see. She didn’t recognise him, but that wasn’t unusual. Having seen so many people over the years, many only briefly, it wasn’t unheard of for patients to recognise Verity while they remained strangers to her.
‘Hi,’ she replied, wondering if she should loiter and wait for James. This too was part of her life as a G.P, having to be wary of anyone who might be a little unintentionally invasive. It wasn’t uncommon for a toxic combination of frustration and poor mental health to erupt in anger misdirected at her. People wanted her to have the answers. And as someone who lived without answers, she understood their irritation, but was still wary of putting herself in the line of fire.
‘I was wondering if I might have a word with you?’
‘Oh,’ instantly on guard, she looked back at the surgery door, as if she might be able to summon James with no more than a thought. ‘I’m actually in a bit of a rush; what I’d suggest is that you call the surgery first thing in the morning and make an appointment, we can—’
‘No, Verity, it’s not a medical matter.’
‘Do I know you?’ It wasn’t only the confidence with which he’d used her name, but also his manner, clear voice and earnest expression that pulled her in.
‘My name is Chen.’
‘Hello, Chen.’ She swallowed, looking from the road to the surgery door, still undecided which way to walk should the need arise.
