Page 24 of Protecting What's Mine
“Well, while you’re off sneaking fast food runs, are there any areas you need me to concentrate on in your practice?”
“I just want to know that my patients, my friends, my neighbors are in the best possible hands.”
Medically speaking, they would be. But if they were all looking for a life coach, they were up shit’s creek.
“I’ll do my best,” she promised.
“All anyone can ask. We’re a small, independent practice. Practically unheard of these days. But we make it work. Insurance billing is always a bitch. But we’ve got people on staff. If you run into any issues, put Freida on it. She’s terrifying. And Russell Robinson, your counterpart, is a truly excellent practitioner. A little hoity-toity for small town, but we love him for it. If you have any questions, go to him. He’ll be in the office this afternoon.”
“What are you doing with the other two months of your sabbatical?”
“Recovering. Want a spring roll?”
9
While Trish took care of a sprained wrist follow-up and a case of pink eye, Mack sat behind the front desk crammed in between Tuesday and Freida so they could take turns explaining the office database.
“So, here’s where you update the patient visit notes,” Tuesday said, pointing at the laptop screen with a fingernail the color of sparkling sand.
“Do not, repeat,do notwrite anything you don’t want the patient to read because these notes are uploaded directly to their patient portal,” Freida said, her sweeping hand gesture nearly catching Mack in the right boob.
“Tell her about Mrs. Moretta,” Tuesday insisted, bouncing in her seat.
Mack’s interest piqued. She happened to know a Moretta or two in this town.
Freida’s eye-roll was extravagant and entertaining. “Mrs. Moretta, bless her heart, is a bit…”
“She likes things her way,” Tuesday filled in generously. Anicecheerleader.
“She does not like to be told to lay off the box wine and ice cream.” Freida was less generous and perhaps more realistic.
They were definitely talking about Aldo’s mother, not the man’s wife,Mack decided.
“Anyway, Mrs. Moretta’s numbers were high. Cholesterol, sugar, weight. Dr. D. tried to gently encourage her to consider some healthier options,” Freida said.
Tuesday wrinkled her cute little nose. “And Mrs. Moretta was uncomfortable with the suggestion and tried to explain—”
“At the top of her lungs,” Freida added.
“In an enthusiastic manner—”
“The walls shook. Children cried.”
“So Mrs. Moretta goes home, and we had just rolled out the new patient portal,” Tuesday continued, obviously enjoying Freida’s commentary.
“An hour later, we’re locking up, ready to head home for the day and the phone rings. Guess who it is?” Freida demanded, stabbing Mack in the shoulder with a very pointy finger.
“Mrs. Moretta?”
“Yep. And she just read Dr. D’s patient notes.”
Mack hid her smile. “And what did the patient notes say?”
“That the patient was belligerently determined to make poor nutritional choices.”
“Mrs. Moretta took offense to the wording.”
“She told Dr. D. to kiss her double-wide ass.”
