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“Doc Larcombe!” I grinned, sitting up. “What are you doing here? Are you alright?”
He smiled. “First of all, these are for you.”
I accepted the bouquet of sunflowers and golden yellow gerberas. “Thank you.”
The Doc eased down to the bed, waving off my frown. “Don’t worry about me. Just a little rusty.”
I put the flowers on the bedside table. “But you were sick.”
“Yes, I was, and I’m still recovering.” He sighed. “Short story: it was prostate cancer.”
My jaw went slack.
“They got it all. I’ll be okay but I’m still on the mend. Call me proud but sometimes a man doesn’t want everyone gossiping about his private parts.”
I grinned. “You’re really okay now?”
“No abnormal cells were found in post-op testing and I’ll heal up just fine with time, but returning to work full-time is a young man’s game. I’m glad to be selling the practice but,” he paused, looking me up and down, “may I say, Stacey, you’re looking very good. Healthy.”
The Doc reached out and took my hand. “I heard about the fire and so I came back from leave early and called in a favour with the doctor on shift to be the one to discharge you.” He let me go, placed the envelopes on the bed and picked up my patient file. “May I? As your GP?”
My smile broadened as I nodded.
He scanned the notes on my file. “You were very lucky, Stacey. You could have died.”
“I know.”
“Your lungs weren’t damaged and you handled the situation extremely well. I’ve heard talk of a bravery medal.”
I snorted. “My training kicked in. But … it almost didn’t. I was so scared.”
The Doc reached for my hand again and held on tight. “You did extremely well, my dear.”
Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them away.
“Stacey, I was going over some of Harry’s patient files.” My breath hitched. “I checked the antibiotics prescribed for Zoe Craig’s son, Oscar. Do you remember how to calculate that dose?”
I frowned slightly. Such a random question. The Doc picked lint from his pants, looking almost bored.
“Oscar came down with severe gastro. Is he okay? I thought he recovered.”
“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. Just checking how you’d calculate the dosage for his medication.”
“Um, well I’d need to know his current weight and if he was on any other medication.”
He said Oscar’s weight and I gave him my answer for the dose of required antibiotics. “Was there a mistake? What’s this all about?”
The Doc smiled and held up one of the envelopes.
“That question was a check and balance for this.”
I frowned again, mystified.
“Before I give this to you, I wanted to see for myself one last time how good you are making calculations. Harry found your assessment for your nursing diploma and noted saying that you’d written the wrong answers. What I asked of you for Oscar was exactly the same as the assessment.”
I turned cold and yet I blushed.
“You were always very good at numbers, Stacey. What you find easy to do, most people need a calculator to make sure they have the right answer. And you just did that with a mild concussion. You were always a gifted student. You were denied the opportunity to shine at the same time as your peers.”
