At least Talia’s returned from maternity leave. She steps into our shared office for afternoon clinic with a shriek that could rival a banshee. “Doctor F!”
“Oh, my god.” I rise from my chair and engulf her in a bear hug tight enough to heave her feet from the floor. “My angel’s back.”
She hoots out a laugh. “I love that baby, butman, am I ready to talk to an adult. Got a quota of curse words I have to meet today.”
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” I set her down and add in a whisper, “Your replacement was kind of dull.”
“Ha! I’m irreplaceable. Give me a raise.”
She deserves it.
“I’d give you all the things if I had that power,” I say.
Her things topple into a pile on the desk before she settles in her chair. “Phew!”
I eye the mountain between us. “What is all this?”
“Purse. Breast pump. Cooler for breast milk. Lunch box.”
“You need a lunch box? We’re only here for two hours.”
She sends me a flat, sassy stare. “Watch who you’re talking to.”
Chuckling, I raise my hands in surrender, then glance at my schedule to check my first patient.
Rosenberg, Heather. 47F. New patient problem: hormone imbalance.
Sighhhhhhhh.
If anyone has a hormone imbalance, it’s me. I’m miserably in love with a girl who told me she doesn’t want me, and the testosterone poisoning my head convinces me I still want to fuck her. Bad.
That’san imbalance.
FML.
Definitely don’t have the patience today. Will manage, of course. I always do. But I refuse to be happy about it. Refuse to be happy about anything right now.
I grab my phone to text my brothers.
What’s up assholes?
Kyle:Having an existential crisis.
Kyle:What if when we die the light at the end of the tunnel is just us coming out of another vagina?
Ha. What an idiot. Love him.
By that logic the human population would never increase.
Kyle:Oh.
Kyle:Right
Kyle:CRISIS AVERTED
Brandon:Ash has that doctor smarts.
I have average smarts and understand the concept of recycling
