“I’ve got terrible stomach pains,” she said, lifting her shirt to expose her belly. She rubbed her hand over it.
“What have you had to eat today?” I pulled up her file on the computer.
“Nothing. I woke with a stomach ache.”
I motioned for her to lay back. I was sure she didn’t have a stomach ache, but I couldn’t dismiss her on the off chance she really was sick. “Any diarrhea?”
She made a face. “God, no.”
“Vomiting?”
She shook her head.
“When was the last time you had a bowel movement?” Maybe she was constipated.
She made another face. “Why are you asking about my shit?”
I took a breath to hide my annoyance. “Clues to the reason for a stomach ailment can sometimes be determined by … your shit,” I said using her term.
I did my exam, checking for anything unusual in her abdomen. She pushed her shorts down far enough for me to see that she waxed.
I ignored that as I pressed the soft tissue. “Any pain or discomfort?”
“No.”
I ruled out a variety of possibilities including appendicitis.
I pulled up prescriptions on her chart and noted that she was on birth control. Even so, I asked, “Any chance you’re pregnant?”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
“You haven’t missed any pills?” I looked again at the medications and didn’t see antibiotics, which could sometimes lower birth control pills’ effectiveness. “Have you been on any antibiotics?”
“No.” Her hand rested on my forearm. “The pills work great. Maybe we could test them.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “You probably have a little bug. Have some broth soup, and maybe a few crackers, then see how you feel.”
She nodded. “Why don’t you come to Dina’s Diner with me for lunch. To make sure I don’t faint or something.”
“Have you fainted or felt lightheaded?” I asked, typing in the information into the EMR.
She hesitated and I turned to look at her. “Well … maybe a little.”
For the most part, I was amused by Joyce, but the truth was, she was wasting hospital time and resources each time she came in with a bogus ailment.
I turned my full attention to her. “Have you ever read the story about the boy who cried wolf?”
It took her a moment to grasp my meaning. “My stomach really does hurt.”
“Take some bismuth subsalicylate, it’s the pink medicine. Have a little soup and maybe a few crackers. If it continues, we can arrange to have a sample of your bowel movement brought in and tested,” I said, mostly to figure out how real this stomach ailment was. Anyone willing to gather a sample of their shit to bring in was likely feeling poorly.
She made a face. I suspected the next time she came in, it wouldn’t be for a stomach issue. She held her hand out so I’d help her down from the exam table. Since I was a gentleman, I did. And as usual, she jumped down in such a way as she bumped into me.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, her coy eyes showing she wasn’t sorry at all.
I gave a short nod as I stepped back. “Have a good day, Ms. Maynard.” I started to leave.
“Dr. Foster?”
I looked over my shoulder. “Yes.”
She bit her lip. “Maybe we could get together sometime.”
“I’ve got to get to work.”
Instead of getting to work though, I headed to the lounge. I laughed inwardly as I poured myself a cup of coffee for a mid-morning pick-me-up. I wondered how long before Joyce would get the hint or give up. I wasn’t interested in her. Even if Joyce wasn’t annoying in her attempts to come on to me, I wouldn’t be interested her. Not that I didn’t like women, because I did. A lot. I tended to like down-to-earth woman, over store bought, although I had to admit, Joyce got her money's worth on those implants.
Maybe a few years ago, I might have taken her up on her offer if it wasn’t already unethical for me to do so since she was a patient. Today, I was more discriminating in my women. In a small town like this, a young bachelor is a target of every mother wanting to marry off her daughter. But I’d found that the women who are more interested in my perceived wealth (I’m paid pretty well, but I’ve got student loans up the wazoo) or small-town prestige, aren’t very interesting. Oh sure, they’re quite agreeable, but so much so that they’re boring.
The few women who were interesting got annoyed at me quickly when I was called away to work. As a small town doctor, I’m on call a lot. Sometimes I’m called in when I’m not on call if one of the other few doctors here can’t make it. Other times, it’s clear they’re looking for a husband. I had nothing against marriage. At one time, I’d considered asking a woman to marry me. She was the proverbial “one that got away.” She was probably why I had trouble with relationships now.
Despite the fact that our relationship didn’t make it, she was the one that all women were compared to intellectually, personality-wise, and even physically. She was the woman I conjured up if the woman I was with wasn’t going to get me off. She was the woman in my fantasies when I was home alone with my hand to jerk me off.
Mia chose a life as a big-city lawyer in Los Angeles instead of returning to our childhood home with me after we finished our advanced degrees. Her brother, Eli, was here in Goldrush Lake, running the family’s outdoor store. He’d been my best friend growing up and in college. Now he hated me. He hadn’t taken it well when he learned about my more-than-friendly relationship with Mia. The fact that I’d loved her didn’t matter. I’d fucked her and he found that to be a betrayal.
Their mother, Jane Parker, had been the woman who
