Protecting What's Mine(17)

“Call me Mack,” she said, remembering to make eye contact with both of her new co-workers.

“Dr. Mack then,” Freida compromised. “You can follow me.”

Mack didn’t know where she was going or what was waiting for her. But the unknown had been a familiar comfort up to this point. She never knew exactly what she was going to find when the helicopter touched down. She’d just treat this entire experience as one small, odd emergency call.

Freida led her to the end of a hallway and down another shorter one before pausing to rap lightly on a closed door.

“Yo,” was the energetic response.

Freida opened the door. “Dr. D., Dr. Mack is here.”

Dr. Trish Dunnigan was unapologetically wiping powdered sugar off her coat. Mack liked her already.

She stood up, brushing the crumbs into the trash can before wiping her hand on her pants and extending it to Mack.

“Great to meet you. Welcome aboard,” she said heartily. The handshake was firm and a little sugary. Dr. Dunnigan was tall and on the stocky side with a spectacular head of frizzy red curls. Her smile was confident.

“Thanks, Dr. Dunnigan. I’m happy to be here.” Happy. The word echoed in her head and she briefly wondered if she really had any idea what happy felt like. Great. Now she had to worry about an existential crisis as well as staving off burnout.

“Call me Trish. I planned to start with pleasantries, but I’ve got a walk-in. If you’re up for observing, we can dive in from there.”

“Fine by me.”

Mack left her bag, keys, and phone in her office and followed her back into the waiting room.

“Hey there, Colleen. How’s our little guy today?” Trish asked.

“Fever again. And that means he’s back to not sleeping,” the mom answered.

“And that means you aren’t either, poor thing. Come on back, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Mack followed them into the exam room and closed the door. She arranged herself in the corner like a resident on rounds and tried to look non-threatening.

Trish made quick work of the physical exam while the boy seemed determined to burrow back into his mother’s flesh. The mother looked worn out to the point of giving up.

“Looks like Tommy’s got that rhinovirus that’s going around,” Trish announced.

“Nothing serious. Okay,” Colleen said, nodding. “Does it make me a horrible mother that I really wished for some kind of magic cold medicine to give him that would make him sleep through the night?”

Trish’s laugh was one hard-hitting “Ha!” She shook her head, curls shaking. “Honey, that makes you normal.”

Relief that you weren’t a bad person was sometimes as much of a balm as actual medicine. Mack knew that from experience.

“Now, here’s my prescription for you. We just started to get you back into good health. Tommy here has been a challenge since you first found out you were pregnant with him. No offense, kiddo. I was a challenge to my parents, too. You can’t parent or work or wife or whatever other verbs you’ve got going on when you’re completely depleted.

“So. Fluids. Easily digestible meals for the little guy here. If he’s not better in another two or three days, call the office. Dr. Mack here will give you a script for antibiotics if she thinks this thing has turned bacterial. Okay?”

Mack gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Okay.” Colleen paused, bouncing Tommy on her hip. “What if he doesn’t help me?”

“Your husband? If he refuses to help raise the child he had a fifty-percent hand in creating, then you leave Daddy and Tommy for two nights and get yourself a hotel room. Two nights. Not one.”

Mack blinked. The country doctor was prescribing her patient to leave her husband.

“Anyone can function on one night of bad sleep,” Trish continued. “But you need him to feel the pain of chronic depletion. Two nights of him not sleeping will give him a whole new perspective on the last three years for you. And if it doesn’t, tell his mama on him. She’ll scare him straight.”

Colleen nodded, her face blank. “Hotel. His mother. Got it.”

“Good. Now go on and get your lollipop at the front desk. It’s all gonna be fine.”

Mack watched them.

“Is that typical? To get that involved in a patient’s personal life?” she asked, feeling uneasy. “I’m not qualified to give marital advice.”

The doctor’s guffaw could probably be heard a block away. “Welcome to small-town family medicine, Mack. You’ll figure it out. I have faith in you.”

“I have zero experience with patient relationships. Mine begin with most of them unconscious and end with me handing them off before they regain consciousness.”

“Good! Then this will be a good learning experience for you,” Trish said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’d hate for you to be bored. Just remember, we focus a lot on preventative care. We’re still saving lives, just in slower motion.”

This was a definite shift in gears. Mack was used to slapping on metaphorical bandages and leaving the details up to the hospital. Now, she’d be in charge of the details.

“Let’s get to that tour,” Trish suggested.

The tour was short. Two offices. Two exam rooms. A room with X-ray and ultrasound tech. A sunny kitchen/break room with a new fridge and an old table. There was the supply closet that housed both medical paraphernalia and office supplies. Employees parked in the back. Mack’s office was Trish’s office.