generally the workaholics he saw were men. He wasn’t enjoying this at all. He was a respected internist with a busy practice. He didn’t have the time or disposition to argue with a patient who didn’t want his help, no matter how well known she was. In his own field and realm, he was nearly as important as she was.
“I want to wait,” she said stubbornly. He could see that nothing was going to move her. She seemed totally inflexible to him, foolishly so.
“I understand that, but I do not agree with you.” He took a pen out of his inside jacket pocket then, and a prescription pad from his doctor’s bag. He scribbled something on a sheet from the pad, handed it to her, and she looked at it, hoping it would be a prescription for some magical medication that would fix everything. Instead, all she saw was his phone number on the paper he handed her. It was the same number she had called and not a prescription at all. “You have my phone number. I have advised you of what I think you should do. If you don’t wish to follow my advice, and if you feel worse, please call me at any hour. But then, I will insist that you go to the hospital. Will you agree that if you do not feel better, or feel worse, you will do as I ask in that case?” His tone was chilly and very firm.
“All right. Then I will,” she agreed. Anything to buy time. She couldn’t allow herself to get sicker until Tuesday night. And hopefully, whatever it was would have disappeared by then. Maybe it really was only the flu, and he was wrong. She hoped he was.
“We have an agreement, then,” he said formally, as he stood up and replaced the chair he’d sat on to its original place. “I will hold you to it, for your sake. Don’t be afraid to call me. I take calls at any hour.” Although he wanted to impress her with the seriousnesss of the situation, he didn’t want to appear too intimidating or frighten her unduly. He didn’t want her to be afraid to call him if she got worse.
“Can’t you give me something in case I get sick again? Something to stop the vomiting?” She was still feeling nauseous as she lay in bed and talked to him, but she didn’t want to admit it to him. She had no intention of going to the hospital that night. He was probably just an alarmist, or maybe he was covering himself, she told herself. Maybe he was afraid of a malpractice suit if he didn’t at least suggest the hospital to her. Her thinking was very American, and she didn’t share any of it with him.
“That would not be wise,” he said stiffly, in response to her request. “I don’t want to mask whatever you have. That could be dangerous for you.”
“I had an ulcer several years ago, maybe it came back again.”
“That is all the more reason for you to have a scan. In fact, I’d like to insist on that before you travel again. When are you leaving Paris?”
“Not until Friday. I could come in on Wednesday, after the show on Tuesday afternoon.” She was hoping to be fine by then.
“I hope you will. Call me on Wednesday morning, and I’ll make an appointment for the scan for you.” He sounded businesslike and cool as Timmie decided his ego was bruised because she wouldn’t do what he said.
“Thank you, doctor,” she said softly. “I’m sorry to have brought you here for nothing.” She looked genuinely apologetic, and for an instant he wondered if she was actually a nice woman. He couldn’t tell, all he had been able to see so far was how headstrong she was, and accustomed to getting her own way. It didn’t surprise him, given who she was. His assessment of her was that she was probably used to having control of everyone and everything in her world. The one thing she couldn’t control was her health.
“It was not for nothing,” he reassured her politely. “You must have been feeling very ill.” He correctly guessed that she was not the kind of person to call a doctor unless she thought she was dying, or very near. Jean-Charles had
“I want to wait,” she said stubbornly. He could see that nothing was going to move her. She seemed totally inflexible to him, foolishly so.
“I understand that, but I do not agree with you.” He took a pen out of his inside jacket pocket then, and a prescription pad from his doctor’s bag. He scribbled something on a sheet from the pad, handed it to her, and she looked at it, hoping it would be a prescription for some magical medication that would fix everything. Instead, all she saw was his phone number on the paper he handed her. It was the same number she had called and not a prescription at all. “You have my phone number. I have advised you of what I think you should do. If you don’t wish to follow my advice, and if you feel worse, please call me at any hour. But then, I will insist that you go to the hospital. Will you agree that if you do not feel better, or feel worse, you will do as I ask in that case?” His tone was chilly and very firm.
“All right. Then I will,” she agreed. Anything to buy time. She couldn’t allow herself to get sicker until Tuesday night. And hopefully, whatever it was would have disappeared by then. Maybe it really was only the flu, and he was wrong. She hoped he was.
“We have an agreement, then,” he said formally, as he stood up and replaced the chair he’d sat on to its original place. “I will hold you to it, for your sake. Don’t be afraid to call me. I take calls at any hour.” Although he wanted to impress her with the seriousnesss of the situation, he didn’t want to appear too intimidating or frighten her unduly. He didn’t want her to be afraid to call him if she got worse.
“Can’t you give me something in case I get sick again? Something to stop the vomiting?” She was still feeling nauseous as she lay in bed and talked to him, but she didn’t want to admit it to him. She had no intention of going to the hospital that night. He was probably just an alarmist, or maybe he was covering himself, she told herself. Maybe he was afraid of a malpractice suit if he didn’t at least suggest the hospital to her. Her thinking was very American, and she didn’t share any of it with him.
“That would not be wise,” he said stiffly, in response to her request. “I don’t want to mask whatever you have. That could be dangerous for you.”
“I had an ulcer several years ago, maybe it came back again.”
“That is all the more reason for you to have a scan. In fact, I’d like to insist on that before you travel again. When are you leaving Paris?”
“Not until Friday. I could come in on Wednesday, after the show on Tuesday afternoon.” She was hoping to be fine by then.
“I hope you will. Call me on Wednesday morning, and I’ll make an appointment for the scan for you.” He sounded businesslike and cool as Timmie decided his ego was bruised because she wouldn’t do what he said.
“Thank you, doctor,” she said softly. “I’m sorry to have brought you here for nothing.” She looked genuinely apologetic, and for an instant he wondered if she was actually a nice woman. He couldn’t tell, all he had been able to see so far was how headstrong she was, and accustomed to getting her own way. It didn’t surprise him, given who she was. His assessment of her was that she was probably used to having control of everyone and everything in her world. The one thing she couldn’t control was her health.
“It was not for nothing,” he reassured her politely. “You must have been feeling very ill.” He correctly guessed that she was not the kind of person to call a doctor unless she thought she was dying, or very near. Jean-Charles had
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