Unfortunately for me, Melody still seemed off today, and I had to let it go. My patients needed concentration.
“We’ll start with the breast exam, so just lie back and relax for me,” I told our current patient with a genuine smile.
She complied immediately, pulling the top of her gown off completely and massaging her own breasts jovially. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Melody’s eyes widen.
“I haven’t felt anything, but there’s just so much tissue,” Samantha Wilson teased. “You’re better at covering all of it.”
I smiled and shook my head at her seemingly forward advances. But it wasn’t like that—not really anyway.
Samantha wasn’t a new patient, as the majority had been lately, and I knew her and her case on a deeper level. She’d already been through the wringer, breast cancer at the age of thirty-six four years ago, and she’d followed that up by having reconstructive surgery to, in her words, get the boobs she’d always wanted anyway.
We joked regularly after she’d taken the lead that first appointment, opening up about how alive it made her to freely engage in humor and harmless flirting whether it was entirely appropriate or not. She’d never made any actual advances, and I’d never stepped out of line. Hell, I even knew her husband Justin pretty well. We saw each other on the golf course a few times a year.
But the most important part about our patient-doctor interactions was that we both left each appointment feeling good. And that’s all I wanted out of my job.
“Well, I am the doctor.”
She laughed.
“Let me see how you’re doing.”
She moved her hands from her breasts, sliding them under gracefully like one of the models on The Price is Right. “Have at it, Doc.”
I smiled at her as I started the exam, but the nature of my touch wasn’t playful. It wasn’t the same as when I used breasts for pleasure, and it wasn’t hot in any way. It was the same old exam I’d done thousands upon thousands of times.
Concentrating on searching all of the tissue, conscious of a relapse in a case like Samantha’s, I glanced up to find Melody’s pinched, almost pained face watching my hands intently.
I stopped automatically, calling Samantha’s attention. “Everything okay?” she asked, anxious.
My face, I knew without seeing it, was one of genuine concern, but it wasn’t because of the patient. It was because of my girlfriend. Still, I forced my concentration back to the patient where it was supposed to be.
“Yes,” I comforted. “I’m sorry, Samantha. Everything feels great. Absolutely nothing to be worried about, okay?”
Her relief was pungent.
I worked not to look at Melody for the rest of the exam and made my best effort to be courteous but professional with Samantha. She didn’t seem to mind at all, and it was actually nice to get through an entire appointment with a patient without feeling like a huge fuck-up.
“I’m going to write out a script for your ultrasound and mammogram, and I know I don’t have to tell you how important it is that you go to your appointment. You’re free, you’re beautiful, and you’re a survivor. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”
She bobbed her head in affirmation and pulled me into a hug. “I know. Thank you for always caring so much, Dr. Cummings.”
After a quick squeeze, I let her go. “Of course. See you next time, Sammy. And tell Justin to give me a call if he wants to play again in the St. Luke’s Charity Golf Tournament next spring.”
“I’m sure he’ll be game for that,” she said with a smile.
Finally done with my medical responsibilities, I headed for the door and let myself look at Melody directly. The crease between her eyebrows had eased, but she still wasn’t looking at me directly.
“Mel?” I called, and her head came up unnaturally fast.
“Yes?”
“Meet me in my office when you’re done, okay?”
She nodded and moved over to Samantha to complete her exit responsibilities. “Take your time getting dressed and then just come out and meet me in the hall. I’ll have your paperwork and walk you up to the front to make your next appointment.”
I stepped through the door as Samantha offered her thanks, and I headed straight for my office.
Grabbing the necessary papers, I quickly wrote up all of Samantha’s procedure orders and waited for Melody to come for them. I had something else I wanted to do, but I also didn’t want to get caught in the act.
A short minute later, Melody stepped just inside of my door and asked succinctly, “Paperwork?”
Normally a gentleman, I would have gotten up to hand it to her, but today, I kept my ass planted in the chair and held it out—to force her into my office.
She stepped forward and grabbed the papers, but I didn’t let go when she pulled them.
Her face took on an immediate air of annoyance, but she smoothed the rough edges of her irritation when I smirked.
“Come back after you take this up to her, okay?”
She gave a jerky nod, and I finally let go.
As soon as she cleared the door, I pulled out a tongue depressor and got to work.
Is that your uvula, or are you just happy to see me?
I know. These are so bad. But they usually make her smile.
Standing up, I waved it around to help the ink dry and then tucked it into my pocket. After two minutes, I started to get antsy, so I walked around the big desk and settled my ass into the front.
When another two minutes passed, I pushed up to standing straight again.
When the final two minutes passed—and still no sign of Melody—I walked right out of my door and up the hall toward the front, checking every open exam room as I went, but all of them were empty.
A commotion at the front was apparent the closer I got, so I hurried my pace a little.
“What’s going on?” I asked when I got to reception to find Marlene and Melody in the middle of a showdown.
“It was Marlene’s day to get lunch,” Betty explained with a shake of her head.
I glanced over my shoulder to find a waiting room full of patients staring at my staff like they were an actual reality show playing out for their viewing entertainment.
Shit. I stepped forward to intervene.
“Ladies.” Two angry faces turned toward me with a near growl.
I recoiled slightly but recovered enough to hold my ground.
“What’s going on?” Both of them started to speak at once. I rolled my eyes, speaking over them, “Melody first.”
“I ordered an Italian sub and a Coke from Marlene, and she screwed it up.”
“I didn’t screw it up!” Marlene objected loudly.
“She totally screwed up Load-y’s order,” Melissa happily chirped from behind the reception desk, and I shot a pointed look in her direction.
“Melo…Mar… Melissa, this is none of your concern.”