Fools Rush in(16)

“You must be Dr. Barnes,” an attractive woman in her forties greeted me, extending her hand. “I’m Juanita Ortiz from the hospital. We spoke on the phone.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I answered. She wore a light gray suit, the skirt short and slim, showing off her long, toned legs. A pink-and-gray scarf circled her neck, and I made a mental note to try that. I myself wore a generic pair of tan slacks and a cream-colored blouse, which I had pulled out of the waistband a bit to camouflage my lack of waist.

“This is Dr. Balamassarhinarhajhi,” she said, the endless syllables rolling effortlessly off her tongue as she indicated a very short, bald Indian man of indeterminate age. Bala…Bala…Balasin…

“Doctor,” I said, extending my hand automatically. He took my hand and shook it gingerly, giving me a nod.

“I’ve heard you and Mrs. Doyle know each other,” Juanita continued, indicating the plump, smiling woman next to Dr. B. I grinned and leaned over, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Jill Doyle was one of my mom’s oldest pals, and I had been thrilled when I’d heard that Jill would be working here. She was chatty and comforting, organized and energetic…a perfect nurse, I would wager.

“And this is Sienna,” Juanita finished, pointing to a young woman who looked no more than fifteen years old. Ah, I thought. Some flavor. Sienna had pink streaks in her brown hair, liquid black eyeliner and bloodred lipstick the likes of which I hadn’t seen since my makeover. Her ears were studded with punishing-looking hoops and chunky metal fragments, none of which could really be called an earring. She smiled and idly kicked her Doc Martens against the chair.

“So!” Juanita said. “Let’s get started.”

For the next two hours, Juanita told us how to handle the three Ps. This was the most excruciatingly boring part of any job, and medicine was no exception. Insurance forms, test orders, referrals, transfers, treatment documentation, confidentiality regulations, malpractice…unfortunately, these things took up much more time than you might expect. In truth, Dr. B. and I would rely on our staff to handle a lot of these while we did the actual treating. Apparently, Sienna had a degree in health information processing.

After a few hours, Juanita and Sienna went out to pick up our lunch, leaving Dr. B., Jill and me alone. “I think I’ll take a look around,” Jill said, wandering off into the exam rooms. I trailed along, daydreaming.

I am working at the clinic, wearing much better, more sophisticated clothes than I have on currently. I have a waist. My hairstyle is symmetric. Suddenly, a battered maroon pickup screeches into the parking lot. Out staggers Joe, one hand bloody from the foreign body protruding so rudely from the soft tissues of his palm.

“Millie…Millie, are you in there?” he calls. Adorably, he is woozy from the sight of his own blood. (This is an actual Joe C. fact, filed away from the time he got cut during metal shop in eleventh grade.) I come out, placing a friendly and firm arm around his waist, and he leans against me.

“I had an accident with the nail gun,” he murmurs. I guide him inside, competently reassuring him, numbing and sterilizing his hand. He gazes at me with clear green eyes, suddenly seeing me in a new light….

“Where did you do your residency, Dr. Barnes?”

It was the first time I’d heard Dr. B. speak. I turned to him, smiling. “Brigham and Women’s in Boston,” I replied. “And you, Dr.—I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve got your name down just yet.” I smiled with what I hoped was charming self-effacement.

“Balamassarhinarhajhi,” he answered in a lyrical, singsong accent. “I was a resident at St. Vincent’s in New York City, though that seems a very long time ago.”

“This must be a big change, then. Much quieter.” Clearly, I was going to have to write his name down and study it before tomorrow.

“Indeed. A pleasant change.”

“Have you lived on the Cape long?” I asked.

“No, not long,” he answered.

“Do you like it here?”

“Of course.” He stared at me expectantly, so I forged on.

“Are you married? Any kids?”

“Yes,” he replied, his black eyes staring at me, no doubt wondering why I was grilling him. Okay. Not the chattiest guy. New friend would take some work.

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS WENT WELL. Although work was pretty slow, it was fun to be with Jill, mostly shooting the breeze while we waited for people to walk in. My parents’ friends were by and large wonderful people, and Jill was a particular favorite. She had several grandchildren she doted on, and I listened happily as she reported on their amazing talents and clearly much higher-than-average intellects. Sienna was a hoot, filling us older folk in on her youthful exploits…actually, she was only five years younger than I was, but I didn’t do things like go into Boston at eleven o’clock at night to hear a band or sleep over at strangers’ houses or date multiple men. Sienna did these things and seemed happy to burble on about them to us.

Dr. Balamassarhinarhajhi (it only took me twenty or so tries) agreed to be called Dr. Bala when Sienna told him outright she thought saying his entire name simply took too much time. We met briefly during the half hour that our shifts overlapped to fill each other in on the happenings of the day. Otherwise, he remained polite and distant. Sienna had managed to discover that his was an arranged marriage. How she learned this was a mystery, but it didn’t stop us three females from talking about it a good deal.