Page 67 of Doctorshipped
And then there’s Jayme.
She’s not like any of the other women here.
She’s really not like any woman I’ve ever met before.
And I need to stop allowing thoughts of her to pervade my days. And my nights.
“I probably have carpal tunnel,” Meg self-diagnoses.
“Do you feel pins and needles?”
“Right now? Yes. Just look at you. I feel all sorts of pins and needles.”
Oh, yes. It’s going to be a very, very long day.
“In your wrist?” I clarify.
“Sometimes.”
“What about numbness?”
I rotate Meg’s wrist to get a feel for her range of motion.
“I feel every spot where your skin is touching mine.”
I pull my hand away and her arm drops unceremoniously onto her lap.
“That’s good. No numbness.”
I don’t even want to keep asking the series of screening questions, but we’re here, and I need to assess her.
“Swelling?”
Meg simply winks and a slow smile creeps across her face. She’s an attractive young woman. I feel nothing for her. Of course, her blatant flirtation makes her less appealing, not more, but still, I’m exactly as I’d hope to be with any woman—unaffected.
“Have you had swelling in your wrist?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Weakness? Stiffness? Change in skin coloration?”
“No. Not really. Have you eaten at Mad River Burgers yet?”
“My daughter and I went there a few weeks ago.”
“Mmmm. Well, I’d be glad to take you out to dinner sometime. We could go somewhere else if you want to try something new.”
I shake my head. I don’t know the last time a woman actually asked me out. Maybe it was in college.
“I don’t date patients.”
Meg blinks. Her eyebrows raise for a moment, but she regains her composure quickly. Maybe I should have softened my response a little.
My dad’s disapproving, but kind, face comes into my mind in the form of the big head in the Wizard of Oz, saying, “Bedside manner, Grant.”
Meg would like a whole lot of bedside manner, I’m sure. And the last thing I need to do is encourage her by being kind.
“That’s a real shame, Doc.”
