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“You look quite active for your age, and that’s good.”
A proud smile framed Mr. Harold’s face. While I examined the cut on his arm, he told me about all the repairs he’d done on his home through last winter.
"I'll stitch this up so it heals nicely and give you some antibiotics to prevent an infection."
“Do what you have to, Doc.” Mr. Harold looked a little less on edge.
I got that a lot at my former job. Older patients tended to be cranky. But there was never enough time to set them at ease.
It was rush, rush, rush.
All the damn time.
I hurried through examining patients like used syringes.
Now, though, after a session taking care of Mr. Harold’s cut, he had calmed down. Even toward his daughter. They exchanged stories of funny doctor visits, even roping me into some.
“That’ll be all for today,” I told them, then gave a date for his next appointment.
Mr. Harold had zero issues with that. “I look forward to seeing you again, Doc.”
Once they were gone, I could take the time to update his records before the next patient came in. Luxuries of a small-town practice.
Unlike Mr. Harold, the next patient was more reserved and quiet. I drew her out with a bit of conversation, and then she opened up and told me everything about her medical needs.
I responded appropriately, and when the session ended, she smiled at me.
"My family doctor was out of town, and I needed help. That’s why I came here. I’m glad I did.”
Damn. Way to melt my heart.
Patient after patient appreciated the services I offered. Some promised to recommend me to friends, and others made appointments for follow-up visits.
Pride grew in my chest. Of course, I wanted my patients to be well, but the truth couldn't be denied—people fell ill. I wanted Dr. Liam Cooper to be their preferred healthcare provider.
Lunchtime came around, and I settled into my office for a quick lunch. By choice, of course. At my former job, choice wasn’t a luxury I possessed.
I was always on my feet. Always rushing from one exam room to the next.
Not that it wasn’t important work. We did save lives, at least.
ButIdied a little each day.
I pushed away that unpleasantness and finished my meal. I did fulfilling work here, and it excited me to get back out there and see who needed my help next.
The nurse handed me a file. I cracked it open, reading through the vitals she took. The patient was in good health on paper.
Now to get to the bottom of their problem. I pushed open the door and stopped.
A woman sat on the exam table, legs folded at her ankles. Why did she seem familiar?
My gaze coasted up to the hands clenched in her lap, then higher, to a mane of rich brown hair pouring over her slender shoulders and covering her face.
Ava.
Even though I couldn’t see her face, I had every other part of her body memorized, for some reason.
A reason I definitely wouldn’t be exploring soon.
