Page 14 of Accidentally Sliding Into A Second Chance

“Thank you so much.” My phone rings and I rip it out of my purse, notice the unknown number again before silencing it. “Sorry.” I give her a sheepish grin.

The door closes, and I look closer at the number calling me. It’s the same one as before. Whoever this is is persistent. Hopefully, they leave a voicemail. I drop the phone in my purse just as the doctor comes through the door.

“Catherine,” Dr. Max Carlson is all ease and warmth, just like Dr. Hall said he would be. “It’s so nice to meet you. Mike, I mean, Dr. Hall and I talked about your case extensively, so I’m all caught up.”

My mouth curls up. This man has a way about him that makes a person feel like they’ve known him for years.

“How have you been feeling?” I fill him in on the episode I had the other day at the shelter. His forehead draws together as he flips through my medical records. Once he finds what he’s looking for, his face relaxes. “Looks like Mike, sorry, Dr. Hall started you on the highest dosage of Levothyroxine for your body weight because of how low your thyroid hormone levels were. It was effective, but not necessarily how I would’ve handled it. Luckily, that's something we can easily adjust. How have you been feeling otherwise?”

“Honestly, I’ve been feeling great.”

Three years ago, I found myself lacking energy, depressed, and having trouble remembering things. Aunt Dottie had just gotten sick, and I was spending a bunch of time taking care of her and assumed that was the reason.

When I went in for my annual visit, I told Dr. Hall about my symptoms. Like me, he thought it was just the stress fromeverything happening. But to be on the safe side, he ordered some bloodwork. The results came back normal. A year later and still complaining of the same symptoms, with a few more added to the list, Dr. Hall did additional blood work.

Once he started looking at the TSH and the Free T4 and T3, we found that the root cause was hypothyroidism.

“My energy levels are back to normal, the achiness is gone, and I can remember things again.” A smile crosses his face, and he chuckles.

“So I won’t have to worry about you remembering my name?” Dr. Carlson quirks a brow making me chuckle.

“No worries about that at all.”

“Wonderful. Let’s try this. I want you to cut back your prescription from 125 mcg to 120 mcg. And let’s see if that tiny switch helps with the dizziness.”

He scribbles on a prescription pad before handing it over to me. “Schedule another appointment in eight weeks, and a few days before you come in, you’ll need to stop at the lab for some bloodwork.”

“Sounds good.”

“Just go up front, and Sue will get you all set.” Dr. Carlson leads me into the hallway and points to a door about five feet away. “Oh, and is it Catherine or Cat?”

“Catherine, but my friends call me Cat,” I say, a smirk creeping up my face.

“Cat it is,” Dr. Carlson smiles back.

Onmywayhome,the phone rings again with the same unknown number. Staring, I debate whether or not to pick it up.It’s the third time they’ve called in almost two hours. Chewing my lower lip I hesitate before curiosity wins out.

“Hello?”

“Catherine Bailey?” A calm male voice asks, causing my heart rate to spike.

“Yes?” I answer, hesitantly, gripping the steering wheel, trying to figure out if I recognize the voice.

“This is Anthony Rossi, Dorothea Lambert’s probate attorney. I’m reaching out to you about your Aunt’s will. Is now a good time to talk?”

“I’m sorry.” My brows knit together. “Did you say probate attorney?”

“Yes,” he responds kindly. “And I’m so sorry for your loss. Dottie was a wonderful woman.”

“She was.” My throat tightens, and the back of my eyes sting. “I’m driving at the moment. Is there any way I can call you back?”

“Sure.” I hear the rustle of paper and can only assume he’s flipping through a paper calendar. My cheeks pull up. Of course, Aunt Dottie would only work with someone who still wrote things down. “I am heading out of the office shortly, but I’ll have time tomorrow, earlier in the day. Does that work?”

“I can call you before I head into the office. Will that be enough time?”

“Most likely, unless you have more questions than the norm.” A door opens, and muffled talking follows before he comes back on the phone. “Sorry about that. My daughter is reminding me that we’ll be late for her practice if I don’t hurry up.”

A wide grin crosses my face. Mr. Rossi is younger than I initially thought. That will teach me to judge a person’s age by a paper planner. “Well, then I will let you go. I don’t want to keep your daughter waiting.”

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