The New Doctor

Dr. Timothy was retiring. Finally. Not just talking about it again, but taking the last step. He announced that he had sold the practice to a newly minted doctor, whom he was going to introduce at a public meeting at the community hall, and that he and Megan would be leaving shortly.

“Sold” the practice was a bit of an overstatement. Medical practices all over BC had been sitting unsold for several years, with so many young physicians opting for jobs in walk-in clinics where they worked bankers’ hours and could be fairly certain of paying off their student loans in a reasonable time. Dr. Timothy had never worked bankers’ hours, or anything close to them.

“No one’s going to replace him,” Rachel Spinner had predicted. “Though they might take over his practice.”

There was a standing-room-only turnout at the meeting because most of Spinner’s Inlet had never known any doctor but Timothy. He had birthed and/or buried someone from almost every family. It was not uncommon for people to remain sick and wait for Dr. Timothy and Megan to return from their annual vacation to the Turks and Caicos Islands, rather than ride the Gulf Queen over to Salt Spring or Victoria and the tentative quality of care that one might find in either of those places.

“You never know where they might have come from,” Charlie Wilson warned once. “Vancouver, anywhere.”

Timothy and Megan walked onstage with a slight Asian girl and the three of them took seats. The audience murmured and whispered and looked offstage in expectation, and then back to Timothy, who finally raised a hand for silence and stepped to the microphone. It gave its usual initial shriek of protest until he kicked its base and succeeded in saying, “Testing, testing.”

He said, “You all know me,” which created a wave of laughter. “We have been through a lot together over the years. Most of you have been patients …” there was a lengthy pause as Timothy seemed to have to deal with a cough of sorts. He waved away an offer of a glass of water from Annabelle Bell-Atkinson, who had assumed a vague kind of supervising stance at the corner of the stage.

“… mostly good times,” Timothy was saying, “and it is time for me to say goodbye.”

This evoked a quiet rumble of protest, which Timothy quelled with a raised arm and shake of the head. “And to welcome and introduce to you your new doctor,” and he turned and gestured to the Asian girl sitting next to Megan. “Dr. Daisy Chen.”

“Christ,” Samson Spinner blurted. “Little Daisy!” He looked around and saw Gilbert Chen a couple of seats away offering a wide smile and two thumbs up.

Beside him, Charlie Wilson asked, “Who?”

“Daisy. Gilbert’s granddaughter, from Surrey. Remember? She used to come and spend summers when Gilbert first moved here and bought the store from the Logans. She was about nine or so.”

“And now she’s what? Ten?” Charlie laughed.

“… recently licensed to practise … and we are fortunate that she has chosen our community to begin her career. Please welcome …” and Dr. Daisy Chen got to her feet and went to stand beside Timothy, whose six-foot-one frame rose over her by almost a foot.

There was applause, hesitant at first but picking up when Dr. Timothy glared about the hall, challenging anyone daring to display less than unfettered enthusiasm.

“That’s better,” he grunted.

“Thank you,” the new doctor said. “My office will be open as of eight o’clock tomorrow. And please, call me Daisy.”

“And now school will break for recess,” muttered Jackson Spinner who was standing with his wife, Evelyn, and next to his Aunt Rachel. “Is this really happening? What if I have to take my pants off when I go …”

“You’ll have to grin and bare it,” said the nearby Samson. “You know, as in …”

“Shut up.”

As it happened, Jackson met Daisy sooner than he had expected to. Two days after her introduction, he was gassing up the water taxi at the marina and chatting to Cameron Girard, who was just nosing around looking for gossip, or even real stuff. A small sound of distress from the end of the marina nearest the B & B entrance, not unlike that of a lost kitten, was followed by a thump, and Cameron yelled, “Good God, Evelyn!” He started galloping along the wharf to where Evelyn Spinner lay sprawled, and still. “Call for help, Jackson!” Cameron ordered as he ran.

Jackson did so and soon also reached Evelyn’s side. She was struggling to breathe, and continued to struggle as a panicking Jackson tried to lift her. “Evelyn? Evelyn!”

“CPR,” Cameron snapped. “Chest compression. Try it! Turn her on her back!”

A patter of soft shoes on the decking. “Stand back,” Daisy Chen said. “Let me have a look.”

Jackson looked up and shook his head. “She needs …”

“STAND BACK!” Like a whip-crack. Then small but surprisingly strong hands pulled on Jackson’s shoulders and he was out of the way and on his arse.

Evelyn was choking, trying to breathe.

Daisy began checking Evelyn’s hands and bare arms.

“What the hell are you doing? It’s her heart! She needs CPR!” Jackson shouted.

Daisy Chen waved him away and continued examining Evelyn’s arms.

“Somebody get Doctor Tim …”

“Ah!” Daisy reached for her black leather bag, brought out a blue-and-green cylinder with a blue end and an orange one, with “needle end” printed on the orange. She slid the needle end through Evelyn’s jeans and into her thigh, then watched. She smiled as Evelyn took a deep breath and almost immediately started breathing regularly. Within a few minutes Evelyn was on her feet, shaky but approaching normal again, and being held tightly by Jackson.

“Let her breathe,” Daisy Chen said. “Then you can squeeze her if you like. It was a bee sting.” She pointed to a small red mark on Evelyn’s left wrist. “She is super-sensitive, allergic. She was going into anaphylactic shock. Her throat and mouth were swelling and preventing her breathing. Can be fatal.”

She held up the cylinder. “EpiPen,” she said. “Basically, adrenaline. Injects automatically into the muscle in the thigh. You’ll need to get her one to carry with her so she or you or anyone else can do what I just did.” She added, “However, get your taxi and we’ll run her to Salt Spring for a hospital check. Just to be sure.”

Cameron Girard was making notes. “Great story,” he said. “Let me get a pic.”

Daisy posed with the needle. “Make sure you spell my name properly,” she said.

Dr. Timothy pulled up on his way to the ferry. Megan peered out from the passenger seat, and suitcases sat piled on the rear.

Timothy called from his opened window. “I saw something was going on,” he said. And to Jackson, “How’re things?”

Jackson smiled, gave a little wave. “Things are fine, Doc. You’re good to go.”