Page 36 of Careless Hope
“Okay. If you change your mind, I’ll put orders in your chart for imaging. But I do feel confident you’re just dealing with a mild sprain here. I’m sure it hurts, but it’ll heal up well as long as you rest it. We’ll need to wrap it up, and I want you to keep it elevated as much as possible. Ice it for twenty minutes every couple hours, too.”
“Great. I can do that.” She looked relieved.
“You said you fell down the stairs. Did you get banged up anywhere else? Any bruising you want me to check out?
“No, nothing like that. I’m fine.” It was another quick answer.
Not wanting to press the matter, I nodded then gathered the supplies I needed. As I wrapped her wrist, I chatted with her about lighter topics—the nice weather, the new litter of kittens her cat had just had—and by the time I was finished, Lily seemed more relaxed. But there was still something hiding behind her eyes.
“You can take ibuprofen for the pain every four to six hours as needed. Call us or come in if anything changes.”
“Thanks, Dr. Cressley,” she said, a genuine smile breaking through as she slid off the table, her sprained wrist now neatly supported.
“Anytime, Lily.” I smiled back. “Remember, ice and elevation.”
As I left notes in her chart, Lisa came back to tell me about another cancellation. Just when I felt like I made a little progresswith a patient, someone else had to go and knock me down a peg.
“It’ll be okay. The people all leaving for another practice are the complainers anyway. Trust me, you don’t want their business.”
“If enough of them leave, I’ll need any business I can get.”
“Oh hush, you’re a long way off from that. You’re still at triple the number of patients your father had when first starting out. Don’t forget, he wasn’t always as successful as he seemed to you. We all start somewhere.”
“Huh. I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am. I nearly always am,” she said with a wink. “Oh, I tried to give Lily Michaels the print out to take to imaging, but she didn’t want it.”
I sighed. “Yeah, she said she couldn’t afford it. I told her I’d write up the orders so she can go in case she changed her mind.”
Lisa’s eyebrows knit together in question. “Strange.”
“Hmm?” I asked, as I checked off the diagnosis and treatment recommendation. “Imaging is expensive nowadays, I wish she would go, but I understand.”
“No, not that. It’s just, when she first came in, I asked if she had insurance and she gave me her card. I was halfway through processing it when she came to ask for it back and said she’d pay cash for the visit.”
I made a note in the computer and clicked out of the file. “Well maybe the insurance expired.”
“No, it was active. I checked.”
“I guess that is weird. I don’t know, maybe her copays are high.”
“Maybe. I didn’t get that far, but it was a good plan.”
That was strange, but I supposed it wasn’t any of my business.
Still . . .
She was my patient and she’d already seemed nervous. Maybe I’d call her tomorrow to check in on how she was doing. Use it as an excuse to see if there was anything else she wanted to talk about.
The idea would sound preposterous to my colleagues back in Chicago. But small town practice was different, and it allowed for more flexibility and care.
And what use was that if I never took advantage of it?
12
Walker
On Friday evening,I found myself standing on Caroline’s porch, unable to shake off the peculiar jittery feeling that had camped out in my chest. Funny thing is, nerves and Walker Anderson didn’t usually keep company together, especially not with women. But there I was, fidgeting with the brim of my hat, trying to figure out why seeing Caroline felt like I was about to break a wild mustang.
