Page 19 of Plentywood
“Every single time except when he had his appendix out at seventeen,” Agnes responded.
“He appears healthy according to the notes,” I said, rifling through dozens of test results. “Last blood check was good. Weight to height is good. Why’s he coming in?”
“Annual,” she replied. “Like clockwork. The kid never misses his annual physical. He doesn’t let me do it, but he is punctual, nonetheless.”
“Blood, urine, the works?”
“Every single thing. He wants the works. Up to, and including, a prostate examination.”
“At his age?” I asked.
“Since he got hair on his nuts,” she so delicately stated. “His daddy died from prostate cancer. He’s a bit of a hypo, but he does appreciate a good examination.”
“When?”
“He’s in the waiting room. Don’t be fooled by his good looks, doc. He’s a waste of your energy.”
What Agnes didn’t know was that I’d already met her grandson at his gas station. She was right, he was a looker. He wasn’t my type, but he definitely might be worth another look. The advantage I had this time was that I was about to get an up close and very personal view of the merchandise.
“Please put him in room 2,” I said.
She glared at me. “You want me to room your patient?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. We spoke about this yesterday. I consider rooming to be your job.”
“Why? Because I’m the nurse andyou’rethe doctor?”
“Exactly,” I replied, closing Charlie’s file and returning her glare. “Those are our roles, correct?”
When I didn’t look away from her glare, something I don’t think happened to her often, she grunted and grabbed his file, stomping to the door to the patient waiting room. She turned back before pushing the door open. “Don’t fall for his bullshit, doc. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor. Charlie!” she yelled through the door.
I got up and went to room 3 to check on the patient scheduled before her grandson. Mr. Luden was here for his A1C check. An insulin-controlled diabetic, he got the blood test every three months. I had a new recommendation for his treatment protocol that I felt would keep his glucose level at a healthy number. The last doctor was good, but he was also old-school. Mr. Luden would do well to add the latest diabetic medication to his routine.
A knock on the door alerted me that Charlie had been roomed and was ready to be seen. “Nurse Agnes will see to the new prescription now that I’ve signed this, sir,” I said, writing an update in Mr. Luden’s file.
“She’s not a doctor?” he asked.
“Agnes is an RN,” I answered. “A very skilled nurse, but not a doctor.”
“Hmmm,” he mused. “I thought she was a doctor.” His eyes narrowed while his lips drew into a pinch. “She stuck her finger up my arse once. I wished I’d known that sooner.”
“Oops,” I quipped.
“Oops?How old are you, kid?” Mr. Luden inquired. “You look sixteen.”
“Old enough to have graduated med school,” I replied. “And I’m over sixteen. Promise.”
“You looking for a lady friend?” he asked, putting his shirt back on. “My daughter is still single. Not sure why exactly, to tell ya the truth. I think a gal with a little extra cushion on her is a good thing in the cold winters we have around here.”
“I’m focused on my first year of practice.”
“So coming over for dinner is out of the question, doc?”
“For now, yes,” I said. “But thank you for thinking of me.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re polite, son?” he asked, standing near the door. “Not in that fake polite way, either. I suppose I’m saying you got manners.”
“Well, thank you, sir.”
