I groan. “That’s not my point. My point is, choose anyone else. Not Harper. Okay? Just please stay away from our receptionist. That’s all I ask.”
“You know,” he says, “when you’re upset, you get this little vein sticking out right here.” He touches his temple with his forefinger. “Someday that thing is going to pop, Nora.”
“Philip…”
“Okay, okay!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I won’t go near Harper anymore. I’ll be aperfect gentleman. Happy?”
I nod, although I’m not entirely sure I trust him. I’d sort of like to have a talk with Harper too, but I’m worried the more I try to keep them apart, the more I’m going to create a Romeo and Juliet star-crossed lovers type of situation, and I’m eventually going to find them in a lip lock in the supply closet. Maybe it’s better just to keep my fingers crossed she’s smart enough to see through his bullshit. I mean, I think she is. But I know how it is on the rebound.
That is to say, I know how it is forother peopleon the rebound. I never had that problem.
Now that Philip has headed out to get the coffee, I go to see my first patient of the day. It’s a man named Timothy Dudley, who I performed a hernia repair on three months ago. I consider myself an excellent surgeon with a very low complication rate, but the complication rate is not zero. Some percentage of patients are going to get infections in their incisions. It’s just a fact of life.
Mr. Dudley got an infection in his incision.
If there’s some sort of rule about being a surgeon, it’s that you’re always going to have complications on the worst possible patients. The ones who already didn’t entirely trust you. And then when something goes wrong, it just reinforces their theory that all surgeons are butchers.
I tried treating Mr. Dudley with antibiotics, but it didn’t work, and I ended up having to do a washout of his incision. But he’s fine now. The infection is gone and he’shealed up. So I’m hoping this will be a quick visit in which I look at his incision, we will pretend to like each other, and then I can send him on his way and maybe never see him again.
But the second I walk into the room, I know that isn’t going to happen.
He is sitting on the examining table, his large abdomen protruding under a T-shirt, the gown we provided lying unused beside him. He’s got his stubby arms folded across his belly, and he’s glaring at me. I’m not even going to attempt to get him into that gown.
I channel my infamous father’s charisma and flash him a smile I am not feeling. He doesn’t smile back. Not even a tiny bit.
“How are you doing today, Mr. Dudley?” I ask.
“Not too great, Dr. Davis,” he says. “It still hurts where you cut into me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
His bushy white eyebrows shoot up. “Are you?”
I nod solemnly. Sometimes it’s very hard to keep my temper during these confrontations. I want to scream at the person that if I hadn’t operated on them, they would’ve had a bowel incarceration. And instead of repairing their hernia, I would be excising a large chunk of their intestines. I’m sure he wouldn’t be any happier with me if I did that.
“My family doctor told me I didn’t need that surgery,” Mr. Dudley says.
I fold my hands together patiently. “This is not his area of expertise. I assure you, you needed the surgery. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
“He told me he heard you’re quick to operate.”
Out of everything he’s said to me so far, this is the first thing that gets to me.He heard you’re quick to operate. Is that a reputation I’ve been getting? Yes, I’m aggressive. But I’m a surgeon. This is what wedo.
“That’s not true,” I say.
“And one of the nurses told me,” he says, “that you’ve got a contest going with another surgeon to see who can operate the most this year.”
My mouth goes dry. I try not to let my composure slip, but it’s hard. What nurse said that? Who would say that about me? That’s completely inappropriate. That sort of thing can destroy someone’s career.
If I find out who said it, I’ll make sure she’s very, very sorry.
“I promise you,” I say quietly, “I would never do something like that. Which nurse told you that?”
“I don’t remember.”
I’m not sure if he’s lying. They probably meet a lot of nurses. He wouldn’t necessarily remember one of their names. I’ll figure out who it is, one way or another. Philip will want to know as well.
Of course, this whole damn thing is probably his fault. I never told anybody about our bet. He’s the one who is probably bragging to the nurses about it. About how he thinks he’s ahead, when in reality, I’m way ahead.
