“And the incision looks great,” Kim added. He straightened up. “Well, as far as I’m concerned you can start training for the Boston Marathon.”
“I don’t think that’s in my future,” Phil joked. “But come spring I’ll certainly be out on the links.”
Kim gave the man a pat on the shoulder and then shook his hand. “Enjoy yourself,” he said. “But remember to maintain the change we’ve made in your lifestyle.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Phil said. “I read all the material you sent home with me. And I’ve taken it to heart. No more smoking for this fellow.”
“And don’t forget the diet and exercise,” Kim added.
“Don’t worry,” Phil said. “I don’t want to go through this again.”
“Now, it wasn’t that bad,” Kim joked.
“No, but it was scary,” Phil said.
Kim gave Phil another pat on the back, jotted a quick note on the chart, and left the examination room. He stepped across the hall to exam room B but noticed there was no waiting chart in the rack on the door.
“Mr. Norton was the last patient,” Cheryl said from behind Kim.
Kim turned around and smiled at his office nurse. He ran a tired hand through his tussled hair. “Good,” Kim said. “What time is it?”
“It’s after seven,” Cheryl said.
“Thanks for staying,” Kim said.
“You’re welcome,” Cheryl said.
“I hope this chronic overtime doesn’t cause you any trouble at home,” Kim said.
“It’s not a problem,” Cheryl said. “I’m getting used to it and so is my husband. He knows now to pick my son up from day care.
Kim reversed direction and went into his private office. He collapsed into his desk chair and eyed the stack of phone messages he’d have to respond to before leaving. He rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted yet on edge. As per usual the stresses of the day had accumulated. He would have loved to play some tennis, and he vaguely thought about stopping in at the athletic club on his way home. Maybe he could at least use a StairMaster.
The door to his office opened and Ginger leaned in.
“Tracy just called,” she said with an edge to her voice.
“What about?” Kim asked.
“She wouldn’t say,” Ginger reported. ‘All she said was to have you call.”
“Why are you upset?”
Ginger exhaled and shifted her weight. “She’s just rude. I try to be nice and all. I even asked how Becky was.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said just to have you call.”
“Okay, thanks,” Kim said. He picked up the phone and started to dial.
“I’m leaving for aerobics class,” Ginger said.
With a wave, Kim acknowledged that he’d heard.
“Call me later,” Ginger said.
Kim nodded. Ginger left and closed the door behind her. Then Tracy answered.
“What’s up?” Kim asked with no preamble.
“Becky is worse,” Tracy said.
“How so?”
“Her cramps are worse to the point of tears and there’s blood in her diarrhea.”
“What color?” Kim asked.
“For chrissake, what do you mean what color?” Tracy demanded.
“Bright red or dark?” Kim asked.
“Chartreuse,” Tracy said impatiently.
“I’m serious,” Kim said. “Bright red or dark red, almost brown?”
“Bright red,” Tracy said.
“How much?”
“How am I to tell?” Tracy responded irritably. “It’s blood, and it’s red, and it’s scary. Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s not so abnormal to have a little blood in diarrhea,” Kim said.
“I don’t like it,” Tracy said.
“What do you want to do?”
“You’re asking me?” Tracy questioned with disbelief. “Listen! You’re the doctor, not me.”
“Maybe I should try to call George Turner in Boston,” Kim said.
“And what is he going to do a thousand-plus miles away?” Tracy complained. “I want her seen, and I want her seen tonight!”
“Okay, okay.” Kim said. “Calm down!”
Kim paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. With George gone, he didn’t have any handy contacts in pediatrics. He considered having one of his internal medicine acquaintances take a peek at Becky but was reluctant. It seemed excessive to call someone out at night because of mild diarrhea of a couple days’ duration even if it were tinged with a small amount of bright red blood.