“And you’re taking the meds every day?” Charlie said.
“Every single day!”
“Sometimes,” Evie said, “just coming into a doctor’s office can spike a patient’s blood pressure, especially if they’re running late. Dok Stoltzfus likes to wait at least five minutes before taking it.”
Charlie gave her a thoughtful nod. “Good tip.” He took the cuff off. “Let’s wait a couple of minutes and try again.” He asked Lena about her busy morning, and she launched into a lively tale about discovering a tomato hornworm in her garden that looked like a prehistoric monster and nearly gave her a heart attack. As she chatted and laughed, Charlie prepared the blood pressure cuff for another try.
“All right, let’s see how we’re doing now.” After a moment, he read the results. “120 over 80. Perfect!”
Lena Johnson’s face lit up with relief and joy. As Charlie opened the door to escort Lena to the front of the office, he waited a moment for her to go through the threshold, then leaned back to whisper in Evie’s ear, “Thanks for that, oh wise one.”
Evie felt fluttery from his closeness, from his clean, warm scent, from the sweetness of his breath. When the door closed behind him, she leaned against it, nearly swooning.
She had found another characteristic to add to Charlie’s list of virtues. His ease with correction and lack of defensiveness was incredibly unique in the world of medicine. Correctable Charlie.
Dok adjusted the rearview mirror as the farmhouse dwindled in the distance, the dusty road behind them giving way to open fields. The tension in the car was palpable, with Wren’s dissatisfaction simmering just below the surface.
House calls had been so easy with Evie. She was thoroughly comfortable with the Amish. Wren kept looking around Mona Beiler’s kitchen as if she was in a foreign country. Dok cringed when she asked Mona why the calendar hanging on the wall was ten years old.
“I like the pictures,” Mona said.
“But how,” Wren said, “do you keep track of the days?”
Mona tapped her wristwatch. “This tells me all I need to know. The Lord is always reminding me to stay in the present.”
The look on Wren’s face! Like she was trying to make sense of that.
As Dok came to a stop to let a farmer send his cows across the road, she said, “I get the impression that there’s something you want to say.”
“The bulging disc in Mona Beiler’s back isn’t going to heal with acupuncture,” Wren said, her voice clipped. “She’s going to need surgery.”
Dok’s gaze remained steady on the cows in front of her. Jersey cows, she noted. Good milkers. “Maybe, maybe not. I like my patients to be part of their own healing journey. If a patient chooses to pursue alternative treatments, I’m willing to support them.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m completely serious. Alternative treatments can offer support and comfort, and often complement traditional methods.”
“Complement?” Wren scoffed. “Sounds to me like you’re just indulging patients’ whims. Mona’s back pain is only going to get worse.”
Dok’s patience was fraying. “Nothing will be lost for Mona by trying a few alternative treatments before surgery. Acupuncture could help alleviate her pain. Look, Wren, I’ve seen unexplained recoveries that make me believe in the possibility of healing beyond the conventional. More than a few times, I’ve observed how hope and patience can play a significant role in recovery. Prayer too. Especially prayer. I think of those unexplained answers as my Miracle Box.”
Skeptical, Wren rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m a believer in the miracle of modern medicine. Not hokeypokey stuff. And I think waiting could put Mona Beiler in a worse situation than she’s in now.”
Dok’s tone grew softer. “Sometimes, Wren, time is the best doctor.”
At that, Wren went silent. The farmer hurried the last cow across the road and waved to Dok to cross. The road stretched out ahead, and the silence in the car grew heavier with every mile.
They’d had only two house calls so far. Dok hoped the rest of the morning wasn’t going to be just as contentious.
“What you focus on,you find.”That was Fern’s frequent advice to Dok.
Okay, focus on the good. Wren didn’t contradict Dok in front of the patients. And her assessment of Mona’s back pain was spot-on. Dok was pretty sure that she’d end up needing surgery, so Wren’s assessment was correct.
Dok’s thoughts drifted to her brother David. She could almost hear his voice in her head, calmly advising her, even if she didn’t want his advice. He would say that these house calls were Dok’s chance to shape and form Wren’s thinking, to build confidence in her strengths and help overcome her weaknesses.
Thank you,Fern. Thank you,David.
“So what’s next?” Wren said.
“This will be quick. We’re stopping in at Sally Fisher’s. Annie’s mom. She thinks she has a case of shingles.”
Wren’s head jerked to face Dok. “Isn’t she...”
“Yes. A raging hypochondriac. Sally had been doing much better, but something happened recently that’s caused her to slide right back into her pattern of imagined illnesses. I have found that when she feels listened to, her symptoms lessen.” She glanced at Wren. “An imaginary illness is worse than a real one.”
Wren let out a long-suffering sigh.
