* * *
“I guess I don’t need to ask how your vacation was, doc. You look rested.” George Brewer rested his head against his pillow, gazing at me. “Everyone around here missed you, though. The place isn’t the same without you.”
“So I’ve been given to understand.” I winked at my patient. “My vacation was wonderful, thanks, George. The bigger question is . . . did you bring me a new picture of that sweet baby boy of yours?”
“Of course.” George beamed and picked up his phone. “Shelly took a photo of him last night, right after they video chatted me at bedtime.” He extended the phone toward me. “Tell me that isn’t the cutest child you’ve ever seen.”
Tilting my head, I examined the picture on the screen. “Oh, George, he really is. And he looks more like his daddy every single day.”
“Awww, I don’t think so. The kid’s lucky enough to have his mama’s eyes and her smile.” George took the phone back and gazed at his son. “Sure am blessed, though, aren’t I? I got the best wife in the world and the most wonderful son . . . and all after I had any right to expect that kind of thing in my life.”
“Which is why we’re working so hard to make sure you can enjoy every minute of those blessings.” I perched on the edge of the hospital bed and scrolled through my tablet. “Your newest numbers look amazing, George. I think the trial meds are a winner . . . and using the curcumin has jolted you over the chemoresistance. I’m very happy with what I see.”
He made a fist and pumped it. “Yes. That’s what I like to hear. Deacon said yesterday that he was optimistic, and you know, for him that’s basically a miracle.”
I laughed. “Dr. Girard is less inclined than I am to expect good outcomes, but that’s not because he doesn’t fight for them—it’s just that the statistics for this kind of cancer are sobering. But you’re proving that stats don’t always count for everything. I love that you’ve incorporated so many holistic remedies into your life, and I’m proud of your progress. It doesn’t mean we’re going to rest on our laurels, though. Deacon’s right about the fact that we can’t let pancreatic cancer get ahead of us, not even for a minute. So while we’re excited about these good signs, we’re continuing to look for new roads forward.”
George nodded. “I’m on board with that.”
“Awesome.” I clicked off my tablet and stood up. “You’ll be able to go home tomorrow barring any complication from the chemo you got this morning. Before you’re released, let’s talk about your diet again. I want to get an update and see if there’s anything I need to tweak.”
“You got it, doc. I’ll see you then.”
Leaving his room, I wandered into the hallway, trying to decide if I should brave Mrs. Dulinkski next or put off her visit until right before I left the hospital. I’d just decided to get it over with when Jenny popped out of another patient room.
“Hey, you!” She tossed me a sunny smile.
“Hey, yourself. What are you doing at work right now? I thought today was Darcy’s shift.”
“It is, but she’s got an appointment with the baby doc, so I offered to come in and cover for her. I’ll only be here for a few hours.” She cocked her head. “By the way, you’re coming tonight, right? Book club meeting at my place. Seven o’clock sharp. Wear your bathing suit.”
“You mean margarita meeting, right?” I poked her in the side. “We all know that the books are only an excuse to get together and gossip while we drink tequila.”
“Potato, potahto,” she scoffed, waving her hand. “The point is that you’ve got to be there. You missed last month. And also, this one is going to be special.”
“You say that about every, uh, meeting. Oh, and last month, I was busy getting ready for my vacation,” I reminded her. “But yes, I think I can make it. Need me to bring anything?”
“Just your hot bod and your capacity for consuming booze!” She giggled. “Also, some stories about what Noah Spencer’s like between the sheets would go a long way to keeping us off the topic of the book that I didnotactually read.”
I tried not to wince. “I’ll do my best, Jen. See you tonight.”
She walked backward, talking as she moved away from me. “If you were thinking about checking in on Mrs. Dulinkski, I’d do it now. She’s going down for a nodular biopsy this afternoon, and Deacon had me give her a sedative ahead of it. She’s pretty mellow at the moment.”
I gave Jenny wide eyes of appreciation. “Thank you. I’m on my way now.”
* * *
“So I walk into Mrs. Dulinkski’s room, and she says to me, ‘Heyyyyyy, Dr. Carson. I’m sooooo glad to seeee you.’” I chortled, imitating our patient. “I sat down on the chair because she always gets so pissy when I’m standing or if I sit on the bed, and she pats the side of her mattress and tells me not to be so stand-offish.”
“See? What did I tell you?” Jenny nudged my chair with her foot. “She’s the kind of patient who only benefits from some narcotic intervention. I actually enjoyed taking care of her today.”
Darcy groaned from her seat on the steps of the pool. “That means that tomorrow, she’s going to be a mess. And guess who has to deal with her grumpy ass then.”
“Okay, enough work talk.” Jenny waved her hands as though dissipating all the hospital vibes. “This meeting of the St. Agnes book club is officially convened. Does everyone have a margarita?”
Nine women lifted glasses and rattled ice.
“Virgin over here,” added Darcy.
