Chapter 11
Elina
"We’ve already discussed this, Maria." It still feels unnatural for me to address the seventy-year-old woman sitting in the examination chair by her first name. Even though I’ve been treating patients on my own for almost a week now. "Sweets are poison for you."
The gray-haired lady with the low ponytail shrugs. "You only live once."
I rest my hand on her calloused fingers. "But there can be serious consequences if you don’t watch your blood sugar levels." It’s important that she understands and starts taking care of herself.
"I do watch it," she retorts, looking at me indignantly through her thick glasses. "My readings are fine."
"Yes, because the day before your last blood test, you exclusively ate sauerkraut," I state, confident in my assessment of the situation.
The poorly healed wounds on her forearms speak volumes.
She lowers her gaze guiltily and fiddles with her knitted vest.
"So once again." I repeat the potential consequences of her eating habits in a serious tone. "Kidney failure and circulatory disorders that worst case could evenlead to amputation." I conclude my monologue with a pleading look.
Suddenly, her eyes well up. "I don’t want that."
"Then take your medication, monitor your blood sugar regularly, and avoid sweets." I nod at her and rise from my chair.
Maria has been in the treatment room for nearly half an hour. That’s clearly too long. More patients are waiting outside, and her diabetes—although unpleasant—is far from challenging. Just like the two children with measles, the innkeeper's vision problems, or the mayor’s hemorrhoids that I’ve treated in the past few days. In the Vienna clinic, I had routine cases too. But at least once a day, I'd get an unusual case requiring me to exert my brain.
That was great. I felt so alive and valued. Because I was able to help when even my colleagues sometimes didn't know what to do.
But here, everything is different.
Maria clears her throat. "Thank you, Elina."
Snapped out of my thoughts, I look up at her and see her pulling out a small round bottle from her pocket.
Another schnapps?
I do my best to act grateful when I accept the high-proof beverage, which would burn the throat of any normal person. At least if she gives it to me, she can’t drink it herself. "See you next week. You can do it," I say afterward.
Dejected, she leaves the treatment room. I walk to the desk, open the lower cabinet, and place the bottle of schnapps inside. It’s in good company there. Although I don’t understand this tradition of showing gratitudewith alcohol, it still makes me smile. The villagers are glad I’m here. They’re grateful for my presence even though I haven’t done anything special.
Before I can call in the next patient, my phone vibrates in the pocket of my doctor’s coat.
It’s my mom. Finally! I swallow my disappointment that she hasn’t reached out even once during the past two weeks. Surely, she must have had good reasons, so I answer the call with a cheerful greeting.
"Elina, we need your help." She sounds tense.
Immediately, my smile fades. Of course, she’s not calling to check in with me. She has other worries that consume her. How silly to hope it would be about me this time? "What do you need me to do for Aaron?"
"We’ve pleaded with him for days, put pressure on and painted scenarios of terror about his future." She exhales heavily. "It's done. He’s ready to undergo another round of therapy."
His fifth. And hopefully his last. "I’ll look for the best facility, no problem," I say, knowing that’s what she expects from me. In my mind, I immediately start thinking about where we could place him. "Will the health insurance cover the costs?"
Silence lingers between us. Then I hear her sob.
So the answer is no.
I want nothing more than for her to stop crying. "I don’t have many expenses here in Tyrol. I’m sure I can contribute a little," I say promptly even though I know it will get me into trouble. I have a student loan, and the installments from the past few months are overdue due to my unemployment. But if it allows me to receive a little bit of love from my parents, I’m willing to make the sacrifice.
"That would be amazing," she replies, her voice hoarse. "Let me know if you find out anything."
