‘Flu?’ Alarm bells ran in Marcus’s head. Flu? Influenza? Virus.
‘Sure. Actually...it was quite a bad one. Does that count?’
‘Most definitely,’ he said.
Too often people didn’t think of flu as an illness. People just accepted that every few years they’d get it, feel awful for a couple of days and get over it. They often never even thought to mention it to their doctors.
‘Yes,’ she said, sitting up higher in her chair and leaning forward. ‘I was really sick. Never had flu like it. Lay in bed for three days with huge temps and violent shaking.’
Bingo, thought Marcus. He’d just demonstrated perfectly the need for a thorough consultation.
‘You know...I don’t think I’ve been the same since.’
Marcus smiled at her triumphantly and she returned it shyly. ‘Do you know what’s wrong with me?’
‘Yes, I believe I do,’ he said.
‘Really? Can you fix me?’
‘I think everything you’ve described is classic chronic fatigue syndrome.’
Connie gasped and looked horrified. ‘Oh, no. You mean I’m going to be like this for ever?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ he said, and smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I have a very good success rate with CFS.’
‘So did flu cause it?’
‘We’re not sure what causes it but it does seem to be triggered by viruses that leave your immune system weak. I think your case is also complicated by impending menopause, but that’s OK. We can treat both.’
‘You can?’ said Connie.
He squeezed her hand because she looked so hopeful but was trying hard to control it in case he was offering her false hope. ‘I can,’ he said, and swivelled in his chair to his remedy drawers. ‘A dose of influenzinium first then some kali phos,’ he said, searching through the alphabetically sorted bottles.
The influenzinium would treat the initial flu complaint and then the kali phos, made from potassium, helped nerves recover, relax and regain power and thus strengthen Connie’s immune system. He talked to her about diet and exercise to help with her menopause symptoms as he dispensed the remedy.
Another part he enjoyed about his job. He was the also the pharmacist. Of course, being a qualified medical doctor, he could write scripts as he saw fit and there would always be certain situations where he would prescribe Western drugs. That was the beauty of being both a doctor and a homeopath.
He filled two fifteen-mil empty brown glass bottles almost to the top with a purified alcohol solution. Into one he dropped in a low-potency dose of the pure kali phos remedy. And then mixed the influenzinum into the other. He kept the dosage down as people could have reactions to homeopathic remedies as well, and it wasn’t uncommon to experience a worsening of symptoms before noting an improvement.
He screwed on the eyedropper lids and banged the bottles a few times against the table and then the palm of his hand. This was called succussing and was vital to mix the remedy and disperse the energy. Next he added labels to the bottles with the name of the drug, directions for use, the date and Connie’s name.
‘Take this,’ he told her as he passed her the bottle of kali phos. ‘I want you to have dose of the influenzinium now,’ he said, unscrewing the lid. Connie opened her mouth and he dropped some of the remedy onto her tongue.
‘You may have a reappearance of the flu symptoms again,’ he said. ‘If that happens, take another dose of the influenzinium but only once. Tomorrow take the kali phos as directed on the bottle. You should start to feel an improvement quite quickly. Ring me if not. And come and see me again next week so we can monitor how you’re going. OK?’
‘Oh, Dr Hunt,’ Connie said as she gripped the little brown bottles for dear life. ‘Thank you, thank you. I feel better already just knowing that I’m not going mad. Dr Harrington assured me I wasn’t but it still felt like it at times.’
He laughed. ‘I aim to please.’
Marcus opened the sliding door and waved Connie goodbye. An ambulance was pulled up outside Madeline’s practice and she was talking to two paramedics who had an elderly man on their trolley. He strolled over as they were loading the patient.
‘Maddy,’ he said.
She squinted at him in the harsh morning sunlight and had to remind herself that although he looked dressed for the beach in his hibiscus boardies, he was actually practising medicine. Of sorts, anyway. ‘Marcus,’ she acknowledged with a tight smile.
‘I’ve just had the pleasure of meeting Connie Fullbright,’ he said.
She smiled broadly this time. ‘Character, isn’t she?’
‘CFS,’ he said, and watched as her face displayed the usual scepticism shown by a lot of general practitioners.
‘So is it to be eye of newt or wing of bat?’ she asked sweetly.
He laughed. ‘Neither. Just wait and see.’
She stared after him as he walked away, still chuckling.
The next afternoon, Madeline was just finishing off some charts for the day and about to head home when there was a knock on her office door.
‘Come in,’ she said, not bothering to look up from her chart, figuring it would probably be Veronica with some lab results.
‘Hello, Madeline.’
Madeline almost drew a line down the page at the sound of Simon’s voice.
‘Simon,’ she said, pen poised in mid-air, not quite believing he was there.
He looked embarrassed, shuffling his feet nervously and Madeline waited for the joy to come. For the triumph. For the rush of love. Or at least a rush of lust. But it didn’t.
She didn’t feel anything.
‘Can we talk?’ he asked.
She nodded and indicated that he sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. She watched him as he positioned himself and fiddled with his tie. He cleared his throat and Madeline braced herself.
‘I made a mistake,’ he said. ‘I miss you, Madeline. I’d like to try again.’
A whoosh of air left her lungs. This was the moment. The one she’d been waiting for the last two months. Where he would go down on bended
