“Why not just make it a one-star review?”
“I’m not joking with you. My daughter works for the local section of The New York Times and I will bash you and your practice so badly, that it’ll take years for you to rebuild your reputation.”
I rolled my eyes and put on a pair of gloves. “Lean back on the paper, please.”
She smiled and leaned back, looking as if this was the highlight of her life. I paged a nurse and waited for her to enter the room, making sure there was someone here to bear witness to this bullshit.
The nurse blushed as she stocked the prep cart and pushed it closer to me. When I realized that she was literally going to turn red and giggle each time I muttered a single word, I accepted that today was just not my day.
“Place your feet in the stirrups and spread your legs for me, Miss Aberdeen.”
“Gladly.” She followed my instructions, opening her legs far wider than necessary.
I took a seat on the stool between her legs, turned on the exam light, and picked up the speculum. I made sure this was the quickest, most efficient exam ever. I’d done far too many of these over the past few months, and I was certain I could do it blindfolded.
Sighing, I swabbed her cervix for the necessary cells — noticing a small irregularity, but it wasn’t enough to warrant this exam.
“Okay, Miss Aberdeen,” I said, taking off my gloves and tossing them into the trash can. “You can sit up now.”
“What? That’s it?” She didn’t move. “You haven’t caressed my pelvis yet. And what about my breasts? Aren’t you supposed to massage them and check for lumps?”
Jesus Christ ... “You had a breast exam with Dr. Laurel five weeks ago, so I’m pretty sure the results from that still stand. But if you’d like, I can have Nurse Johnson here remain in the room with you and complete a new test for you. I’ll even have her log it into the system as pro bono.”
“I will totally do whatever you need me to do, Dr. Ashton.” Nurse Johnson blushed and let out a nervous giggle.
“I’ll pass.” Miss Aberdeen sat up and crossed her arms.
“I thought so.” I picked up her chart and wrote a few notes. “As I said before we started, nothing is alarmingly wrong with you ‘down there’, although it looks like you might be developing a minor yeast infection.”
“I told you it was something serious. It even sounds serious, so serious that I bet there’s not a cure for it.”
“They sell the cure for this at Wal-Mart,” I said. “Most women can actually diagnose a yeast infection for themselves.”
“Well, I prefer having a more personal touch.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to use your long, thick fingers to go a little deeper and make sure you don’t feel anything else inside of me?”
I immediately stood up and tore off her prescription sheet from my pad. “You should be cleared up within forty-eight hours, if you get this filled today and follow the instructions.”
“And in the case that I don’t follow the instructions? Do I get to see you for a follow-up?”
I gave her a blank stare. “Have a great day, Miss Aberdeen. Thank you for your assistance, Nurse Johnson.” I left the room before either of them could say another word, and headed straight for my assistant Emily’s desk.
“May I help you with something, Dr. Ashton?” She looked up at me as I approached.
“Yes. I could’ve sworn we agreed that I needed to be the absolute, last resort for Dr. Laurel’s walk-in patients on her off days.”
“You are the ultimate, last resort. Everyone else was booked with an eight o’clock appointment.”
Perfect ... “Do I have any updates so far today?”
“Plenty.” She picked up a box and handed it to me. “The award for being the number one private practice in the state came in the mail yesterday evening. Your ten o’clock rescheduled for four o’clock, your one o’clock wants to switch from an in-person session to a phone call, and I’ve replenished all of the vases in your office with a fresh supply of Twizzlers.”
“Thank you, Emily. Is that all?”
“Actually, one last thing. Dr. Ryan is back from Hawaii and in your office waiting for you. She says it’s important.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.” I carried the trophy box down the hall and into my office.
Sure enough, Dr. Ryan — a.k.a. Dr. “I’m never here,” was sitting on my custom-made chaise for patients and talking on the phone.
I was actually shocked to see her here this early since she’d recently become a bit of a celebrity. She was the third member of my staff I’d nearly lost to the world of “TV medicine.” Every time I turned around, she was signing a new book deal, appearing on a television show, or hosting an expensive conference. Everything except practicing medicine.
“You don’t look happy to see me today, Dr. Ashton.” She ended her phone call as I took a seat at my desk. “What did I do now?”