Page 25 of Protecting What's Mine
The laugh sputtered out of Mack, and she was grateful that the waiting room was empty.
“So, Dr. D. had to call Mrs. D. and ask her to reschedule their dinner reservations so she could go apologize to Mrs. Moretta.”
“With a box of Chardonnay.”
“Only polite patient notes in the file. Got it,” Mack said. She was getting itchy todosomething. The patient database was as straightforward as it could get. She was ready to jump in.
Tuesday scrolled through another patient file where a note caught Mack’s eye.
“Hang on, why do you have the work schedule of this patient’s next-door neighbor in the file?” Mack asked. They also had out-of-state adult children listed with occupations. There was another notation of the woman’s favorite cookie.
Freida and Tuesday shared a knowing look. “The better we know our patients, the higher the level of care we can provide,” Freida said with a sweeping gesture as if addressing a crowd.
“Perhaps it’s not the way everyone does medicine, or should I saybusiness,” a man’s voice carrying an obvious opinion interrupted them.
Dr. Russell Robinson was a lean, well-dressed man with dark skin, close-cropped hair, and a beauty mark-like mole on his right cheek. He wore a jaunty bowtie under his white coat and a frown.
“Dr. O’Neil.” He offered his hand across the desk to Mack.
Apparently, it wasn’t a pleasure to meet her.
“Dr. Robinson.” She returned his firm handshake.
“Dr. Robinson is a semi-retired cardiac specialist,” Freida explained. “He usually works Thursdays, Fridays, and every other Saturday. But he agreed to help out extra this week and next while you get your feet wet.”
“My wife is a political consultant in DC,” he said, pride tinging his tone. “We divide our time between here and the city. I’m assuming you’ll make an actual effort here so my presence won’t be required full-time.”
It wasn’t a question.
“You don’t get into medicine to half-ass care,” Mack said firmly.
“No. But some get into medicine to play God,” he mused.
“Some. Others beat around the bush instead of getting to the point.” Mack had done what was necessary to survive her childhood, but as an adult, she didn’t tiptoe. If there was a problem, she walked right up to it and dealt with it.
Tuesday giggled nervously behind her.
“We don’t do assembly line care here, Dr. O’Neil. Patients come first. We’re about quality of life. So if you don’t think you’ll be able to care about our patients beyond writing a prescription or slapping on a bandage, I suggest you save us all some time and go back to emergency medicine.”
“I’m here to learn how family practice works,” she said coolly. “Dr. Dunnigan seems to feel that I’m capable of providing the required level of care. So if you have concerns over my abilities, I suggest you raise them with her.”
“I have. Now I’m raising them with you. Do your job well, and we won’t have any problems.”
The man was succinct.
“Fair enough,” she said.
He turned to Tuesday and Freida, his expression warming considerably. “Ladies. It’s nice to see you, as always.”
“Hi, Dr. Robinson,” Tuesday greeted him cheerfully.
“I’ll be in my office until my next appointment if you need anything,” he said. He shot Mack one last warning look before disappearing down the hall.
“Sorry about that. Dr. Robinson is a little protective of the practice and our patients,” Freida said. “I’m sure he’ll warm up to you in no time.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Mack said.
“WELL, THIS IS IT,”Trish sighed, locking the back door behind her.
