be worth the trouble. Listen to the patients. Listen, administer first aid, and at the worst, emergency care. It isn’t as if they’re going to sue you for malpractice.”
“Why? Didn’t any lawyers survive?”
“Not any who will admit to it,” said Edith.
Coral liked the woman. She was straight-talking, and Coral had no doubt she’d be doing the bulk of the medicine here. She took the white coat, put it on—it was about two sizes too large—and said, “Okay. If I don’t look like a little kid playing doctor for Halloween, I’m ready.”
Good thing she was. The bell on the front desk rang the instant she said that.
Chapter 11
It was a busy day. Mostly, people were coming by to meet her. What surprised her was that a half-dozen people came who were clearly neurotic, either hypochondriacs or hypochondriacs by proxy about their children, or hoping to hear they had some dramatic ailment when all they had was hunger or a hangnail. Coral dispensed no medicines, gave little advice, and took her cues from Edith on how to treat each person. She tried to act like every doctor she’d ever seen as a patient.
Edith had been right about what to do. Mostly, she listened. And over the course of the day, she felt more and more impatient with the whining ones. What she wanted to say was, “Have you looked outside lately? Do you not see that people have far bigger problems than imaginary mold allergies?” As the day wore on and she became hungrier and weaker, it was harder to control her impulse to snap at them, and she deferred to Edith more and more. The other woman seemed to have unlimited patience for the nonsense.
Toward the end of the day, she saw a pair of six-year-old twins for minor scrapes, and that was fun. One had fallen hard enough to scrape his knee through his jeans and the other had purposefully scraped himself in solidarity with his twin. Coral tried to be serious when she explained that they didn’t have many bandages left, and there were other ways to be a good brother. It was a good moment, near to what she’d always dreamed of when she had imagined being in family practice one day.
She smiled at the mother as she was bundling the twins up to leave. “They’re adorable.”
“Adorable to visit, maybe,” said the mother. Then she glanced at Edith, and a guilty look came over her face. Her children had survived, and others had not.
When she was gone, Coral asked Edith, “Is it hard for you? Dealing with the children?”
“No, not at all. With this few of us left, it feels a little like the children are communal property, in a way. We’re all pitching in together to get them through it. So it’s like being an aunt to them all.” She gave a sad smile. “I miss my kids something awful. But the world is what it is. We have to make the best of it.”
At the end of the day, when she thought she could summon not one more smile, the bell rang again. Edith went to greet the patient, and she brought back Benjamin.
“You hurt?” Coral said.
“Not in any new way. Parnell told me to get my arm checked out before the clinic closed. I’m just following orders.”
Coral realized she’d barely spared a thought for him all day. Being busy was no excuse. She had to remember what was important. Playing doctor for a bunch of strangers was not. Benjamin—he was what mattered.
“Is it bad?” she asked. She meant Parnell, and his orders, not the arm.
His eyes darted to Edith. “No, not bad. I’m used to doing what I want, when I want.”
“Except when I boss you around.”
He gave her his half-grin. “Except for that.”
“At least I have a chance to treat this in decent conditions, now. Take your shirt off, please.”
He took his jacket off and his new shirt, and when he tried to untie the bandage, she stopped him.
“Let me,” she said. She worked out the knot in the strip of shirt she’d put around the wound, and then carefully tugged off the gauze pads, taking care not to tear the
“Why? Didn’t any lawyers survive?”
“Not any who will admit to it,” said Edith.
Coral liked the woman. She was straight-talking, and Coral had no doubt she’d be doing the bulk of the medicine here. She took the white coat, put it on—it was about two sizes too large—and said, “Okay. If I don’t look like a little kid playing doctor for Halloween, I’m ready.”
Good thing she was. The bell on the front desk rang the instant she said that.
Chapter 11
It was a busy day. Mostly, people were coming by to meet her. What surprised her was that a half-dozen people came who were clearly neurotic, either hypochondriacs or hypochondriacs by proxy about their children, or hoping to hear they had some dramatic ailment when all they had was hunger or a hangnail. Coral dispensed no medicines, gave little advice, and took her cues from Edith on how to treat each person. She tried to act like every doctor she’d ever seen as a patient.
Edith had been right about what to do. Mostly, she listened. And over the course of the day, she felt more and more impatient with the whining ones. What she wanted to say was, “Have you looked outside lately? Do you not see that people have far bigger problems than imaginary mold allergies?” As the day wore on and she became hungrier and weaker, it was harder to control her impulse to snap at them, and she deferred to Edith more and more. The other woman seemed to have unlimited patience for the nonsense.
Toward the end of the day, she saw a pair of six-year-old twins for minor scrapes, and that was fun. One had fallen hard enough to scrape his knee through his jeans and the other had purposefully scraped himself in solidarity with his twin. Coral tried to be serious when she explained that they didn’t have many bandages left, and there were other ways to be a good brother. It was a good moment, near to what she’d always dreamed of when she had imagined being in family practice one day.
She smiled at the mother as she was bundling the twins up to leave. “They’re adorable.”
“Adorable to visit, maybe,” said the mother. Then she glanced at Edith, and a guilty look came over her face. Her children had survived, and others had not.
When she was gone, Coral asked Edith, “Is it hard for you? Dealing with the children?”
“No, not at all. With this few of us left, it feels a little like the children are communal property, in a way. We’re all pitching in together to get them through it. So it’s like being an aunt to them all.” She gave a sad smile. “I miss my kids something awful. But the world is what it is. We have to make the best of it.”
At the end of the day, when she thought she could summon not one more smile, the bell rang again. Edith went to greet the patient, and she brought back Benjamin.
“You hurt?” Coral said.
“Not in any new way. Parnell told me to get my arm checked out before the clinic closed. I’m just following orders.”
Coral realized she’d barely spared a thought for him all day. Being busy was no excuse. She had to remember what was important. Playing doctor for a bunch of strangers was not. Benjamin—he was what mattered.
“Is it bad?” she asked. She meant Parnell, and his orders, not the arm.
His eyes darted to Edith. “No, not bad. I’m used to doing what I want, when I want.”
“Except when I boss you around.”
He gave her his half-grin. “Except for that.”
“At least I have a chance to treat this in decent conditions, now. Take your shirt off, please.”
He took his jacket off and his new shirt, and when he tried to untie the bandage, she stopped him.
“Let me,” she said. She worked out the knot in the strip of shirt she’d put around the wound, and then carefully tugged off the gauze pads, taking care not to tear the
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