Chapter 10
Mariah lost all hope of ever catching up after her third train wreck of a patient visit in as many hours at the rural clinic attached to the hospital. Normally, a patient with ten major medical issues and a laundry list of concerns to discuss? Bring it on. She loved the challenge. But today she was too distracted to delve into the long, complicated appointments.
Didn't help that the face of a certain man kept popping up at inopportune times, pulling her concentration in directions it shouldn't go. Crazy how she kept thinking about him and his changing moods. Explainable by his worry for family, sure. But whenever she talked with Vaughn, it felt like he held back important information. Or secrets.
She was a fine one to talk about secrets. She had a roomful of them.
She took in a big breath and blew it out slowly.Focus on work.
Last patient of the day would be a doozy.
After a pause, she knocked on the room holding Patricia Brand, the widowed matriarch of the Brand family who Mariah had just yesterday discharged from the hospital for aspiration pneumonia secondary to multiple sclerosis.
"Hello, Mrs. Brand," she called as she shut the door behind her. "How are you doing today?"
"What's it to you? You're late, by the way," the woman in the wheelchair snarled and sniffed. Made perfect sense to Mariah. Unfortunately, not all of Mrs. Brand's bad attitude could be chalked up to a long battle with multiple sclerosis with increasing complications and the resultant depression. Some of that bearish temperament was simply... her. Maybe some of the attitude had to do with her family, too.
Well, most of them.
The other woman in the room, her daughter, Izzy, shook her head and mouthedsorry, her face drawn and lined. Her long, blonde hair hung in limp, unkempt waves. Her blue eyes flicked up briefly, then she stared at the floor.
"You're right, and I'm sorry to make you wait." Mariah plowed ahead. "My goal is for you to feel better, Mrs. Brand. And I have to say that you look better than a few days ago."
"No thanks to you. Would have gotten better on my own anyway." The woman's atrophied hands flopped on her lap. When she inhaled, the on-demand portable oxygen tank gave a puff of air into her nostrils.
"Mom, please," Izzy whispered.
"Hush up. This is my visit. I don't even know why you're here anyway."
"Because you can't drive. And you need someone to push your wheelchair while the power chair is in the shop."
"Besides that."
Izzy clamped her mouth closed and peered into space, away from her mother.
At least Izzy had a mother present. A twinge caught Mariah between the ribs and she mentally shook it off.
Mariah plowed ahead. She refused to calculate how many more minutes of work remained in this never-ending day. "Has your breathing changed any since you left the hospital?"
"No. It's crappy as usual." Mrs. Brand sniffed. "Not sure why you couldn't fix that particular problem while I was in the hospital." A wet cough punctuated her words.
Izzy grimaced.
Mariah groaned to herself. The reason she couldn't completely fix the woman's lungs was due to equal parts an incurable underlying health condition and the fact that she kept smoking two packs per day.
No problem. Mariah could handle grumpy, ill patients all day long. "Any other issues like palpitations or chest pain?"
"No."
"Good. How about ankle swelling or fevers?"
"No." She waved her thin fingers near her face. "I must be perfectly fine, then. Good job, super doc." The harsh laugh held zero humor.
Mariah rolled her neck as she exhaled. "So I know that having multiple sclerosis makes it more likely to get certain health problems, like pneumonia. But also having a chronic illness can cause depression or anxiety."
Mrs. Brand grimaced. "What are you, a rocket scientist?"
Keep trying. "Sometimes being ill can make people angry or lash out at people they love." She paused. "Have you ever noticed yourself doing that?"
