David’s morning passed quickly and happily. The patients had been a delight. They’d all been affable, attentive to what David had to say, and, in contrast to the non-compliant patients he’d dealt with during his residency, eager to follow his recommendations. All of them had also expressed appreciation for David’s arrival, not as fervently as Marjorie, but enough to make David feel good about his reception.
For lunch, David met Angela at the coffee shop run by the volunteers. Over sandwiches, they discussed their morning.
“Dr. Wadley is terrific,” Angela said. “He’s very helpful and interested in teaching. The more I see him, the less he reminds me of my father. He’s far more demonstrative than my father ever would be–far more enthusiastic and affectionate. He even gave me a hug when I arrived this morning. My father would die before he’d do that.”
David told Angela about the patients he’d seen. She was particularly touched to hear about Marjorie Kleber’s reaction to David’s arrival.
“She’s a teacher,” David added. “In fact she teaches the third grade so she’ll be Nikki’s teacher.”
“What a coincidence,” Angela said. “What’s she like?”
“She seems warm, giving, and intelligent,” David said. “I’d guess she’s a marvelous teacher. The problem is she’s had metastatic breast cancer.”
“Oh, dear,” Angela said.
“But she’s been doing fine,” David said. “I don’t think she’s had any recurrence yet, but I haven’t gone over her chart in detail.”
“It’s a bad disease,” Angela said, thinking how many times she’d worried about it herself.
“The only complaint I have so far about the practice is that I’ve seen too many oncology patients,” David said.
“I know that’s not your cup of tea,” Angela said.
“The nurse says it was just a coincidence that I started with two in a row,” David said. “I’ll have to keep my fingers crossed.”
“Now don’t get depressed,” Angela said. “I’m sure your nurse was right.” Angela remembered all too well David’s response to the deaths of several oncology patients when he’d been a junior resident.
“Talk about depression,” David said. He leaned closer and whispered. “Did you hear about Dr. Portland?”
Angela shook her head.
“He committed suicide,” David said. “He shot himself in the office that I’m now using.”
“That’s terrible,” Angela said. “Do you have to stay there? Maybe you can move to a different suite.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” David said. “What am I going to say to Kelley? I’m superstitious about death and suicide? I can’t do that. Besides, they repainted the walls and recarpeted the floor.” David shrugged. “It’ll be okay.”
“Why did he do it?” Angela asked.
“Depression,” David said.
“I knew it,” Angela said. “I knew he was depressed. I even said it. Remember?”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t depressed,” David said. “I said he looked ill. Anyway, he must have killed himself soon after we met him because Charles Kelley said he’d done it in May.”
“The poor man,” Angela said. “Did he have a family?”
“A wife and two young boys.”
Angela shook her head. Suicide among doctors was an issue of which she was well aware. One of her resident colleagues had killed herself.
“On a lighter note,” David said, “Charles Kelley told me that there’s a bonus plan to reward me for keeping hospitalization at a minimum. The less I hospitalize the more I get paid. I can even win a trip to the Bahamas. Can you believe it?”
“I’ve heard of that kind of incentive plan,” Angela said. “It’s a ploy health maintenance organizations use to reduce costs.”
David shook his head in disbelief. “Some of the realities of this ‘managed care’ and ‘managed competition’ stuff are really mind-boggling. I personally find it insulting.”
“Well, on a lighter note of my own, Dr. Wadley’s invited us to his home for dinner tonight. I told him I’d have to ask you. What do you think?”
“Do you want to go?” David asked.
“I know we have a lot to do at home, but I think we should go. He’s being so thoughtful and generous. I don’t want to appear ungrateful.”
“What about Nikki?” David asked.
“That’s another piece of good news,” Angela said. “I found out from one of the lab technicians that Barton Sherwood has a daughter in high school who does a lot of sitting. They are our closest neighbors. I called and she’s eager to come over.”