“Well, I did it,” he said as if he had accomplished some major task.
“And now that my part’s over, I’ll be heading to the office.
Unfortunately, because of the stitches, I’m later than I planned.
So I’ve got to run. But I’ll come back after the meeting and pick you up. If it looks like the meeting is going to run over, I’ll call and leave word with Mrs. Hargrave. Okay?”
“Okay,” Marissa said.
“Thanks for providing a sample. I appreciate it.”
Robert wondered if Marissa was being sarcastic. He couldn’t detect any irony in her tone.
“You’re welcome,” he said finally.
“Good luck with the egg retrieval. Hope you get a full dozen.”
With a tentative pat on her shoulder, he turned and left the room.
Marissa felt tears welling up again, but she didn’t know if they were from sadness or anger. She felt so terribly alone. Lately Robert had been so businesslike, even when it came to her. She was hurt that he could leave her to face such an ordeal alone.
The Robert of today seemed so different from the man she had married so blissfully only a few years ago. in so many ways he was telling her that business came first; it was his identity and his escape. A single tear ran down into her ear. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping to block out the whole world. It seemed that her life was falling apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Excuse me, Dr. Wingate,” Mrs. Hargrave said, stopping the doctor on his way into the ultrasound room.
“Could I have a brief word with you?”
“Is it. important Dr. Wingate asked.
“I’m late for Mrs. Buchanan.”
“It’s Mrs. Buchanan I want to discuss,” Mrs. Hargrave said.
She held her head back. She was a tall woman herself, almost six feet. Even so, she looked slight next to Dr. Wingate’s impressive bulk.
“Is it confidential?” Dr. Wingate asked.
“Isn’t everything confidential?” Mrs. Hargrave said with a sly smile.
“True enough,” Dr. Wingate said. He briskly walked down the hallway to his office. They entered a back door directly from the corridor, bypassing his secretary. Wingate closed the door behind them.
“I’ll be brief,” Mrs. Hargrave said.
“It’s come to my attention that Mrs. Buchanan… actually, I should say Dr. Buchanan.
You do remember that she is a doctor, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Wingate said.
“Dr. Carpenter told me that two years ago. It was a surprise, I recall. Dr. Carpenter only knew through reading it in the Globe.
“I think the fact that she is a physician herself should be kept in mind,” Mrs. Hargrave said.
“As you know, doctors can be difficult patients at times.”
Dr. Wingate nodded.
“At any rate,” Mrs. Hargrave continued, “I believe she is suffering from a certain amount of depression.”
“That’s not unexpected,” Dr. Wingate said.
“Almost all of our in-vitro patients experience depression at one time or another.”
“There is a suggestion of marital discord as well,” Mrs. Hargrave said.
“Even some talk about stopping after this cycle.”
“Now that would be unfortunate,” Dr. Wingate agreed, interested at last.
“Depression, marital problems, and the fact that she is a physician make me think we should perhaps alter the treatment protocol.”
Dr. Wingate leaned against his desk, hooking a thumb under his chin and resting his nose on an index finger while he pondered Mrs. Hargrave’s suggestion. She definitely had a point, and flexibility had always been an approach he’d advocated.
“She also witnessed the scene with Rebecca Ziegler,” Mrs.
Hargrave added.
“That can only have contributed to her emotional distress. I’m very concerned about her.”
“But she has been stable up until now,” Dr. Wingate said.
“That’s true,” Mrs. Hargrave replied.
“I suppose it is the problem of her being a physician that makes me feel uneasy.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Dr. Wingate said.
“It’s attention to detail that makes the Women’s Clinic so successful. But I think it will be safe to continue as usual with Dr. Blumenthal-Buchanan.
She’ll tolerate another couple of cycles, but perhaps it would be wise to recommend some in-house counseling for both her and her husband.”