I woke up at around quarter to nine and found myself on the couch with some noir-ish old black-and-white film running on the TV. I never sleep this late, but then I rarely stay up as late as I had last night.
Good thing I have Thursdays off. That meant no office hours today, but not necessarily no hospital.
I didn’t feel up to a jog, so I showered, dressed in my casual Ralph Lauren black knit warm-up, and made the bed. I always make the bed. The idea of leaving it unmade for the day is, well, unthinkable. I tried it once and found I couldn’t concentrate. I had to drive back and make it.
My serum caffeine level was in the cellar so I stopped at the Dunkin’ Donuts along the way for a cup of high octane. The glazed crullers beckoned from the display case…
Oh, come on, Norrie… just one of us… how much could it hurt?
I fled to my car. I’d messed up last night with the chocolate. Had to get back on track today. I wondered about that new diet drug. What was it called again? Tezinex. Would that fend off these cravings?
I thought again about trying it. Why not? I should be willing to dose myself with anything I might prescribe for my patients. And if it worked for me with no downside, I could be more confident it would work for them.
I arrived at the hospital. I have this thing about my inpatients: I feel personally responsible for them. Even on my days off when either Sam or Ken make rounds, I like to pop in and say hello and check the chart. The older more experienced docs tell me I’ll get over it as soon as I get a life.
Truth is, this is my life. At least for now.
I accessed Amelia Henderson’s chest films on the computer. The reray showed a slight regression in her left lower lobe infiltrate. The pneumonia was on the mend, but taking its own sweet time.
Next stop: the lady herself.
“But that other doctor was already here,” Amelia said as I stepped into the room.
She was sitting beside the bed with a frilly pink robe draped over her shoulders. An IV ran into her left arm. Her green oxygen line ran under her nose. She’d yet to be weaned off it.
“Doctor Lerner. Yes, I know, but I was just passing by and thought I’d stop in to say hello.”
A white lie. What could it hurt?
“He said I’m not ready to go home.”
I agreed.
“You’ve still got a ways to go. First we have to see more clearing of your pneumonia, and then you have to be off the oxygen.”
I wondered about her mental state. She looked depressed. Was she still waiting for her late husband to show?
“Did you have many visitors yesterday?”
She shook her head. “Just Beth.” I saw tears rim her eyes. “She told me Harry’s dead. I didn’t remember. How could I forget something like that?”
“It happens in hospitals, Amelia. Maybe it was the medication in the IVs.” It wasn’t, but I wanted to give her something to blame besides her aging brain. “Do you remember now?”
She nodded. “Now, yes. But I shouldn’t have forgotten. It’s not right.”
I sat with her for a few more minutes of reassurance. When I left she was in better spirits and checking out what was on the tube.
I now felt I could call the rest of the day my own. Well, except for the office meeting at one o’clock.