Thursday, June 09, 2005

1:07 PM


"What the hell?"

I stare at the pink slip the desk clerk's just handed me. While You Were Out: Mark Warner -- called. "Have to cancel this afternoon. Sorry."

I stuff the message into my jacket pocket and flee for the elevator -- if Cuddy catches me down here she'll find some way to rope me into the clinic, which means I'll have to come up with something lewd to try to throw her off, and I'm really not in the mood, which is in itself annoying. Damn Stacey and damn her no-show husband.

I jab the elevator button with my cane and bounce the cane impatiently until the doors open. I step in, push the button for 4, and stare at the ceiling.

Maybe Stacey isn't really married. Maybe once she decides she wants to leap into my arms again, she'll confess that there is no Martin, that she made it all up. But she would have had to forge all those medical records and the films, and that's a lot of trouble. Wilson seemed to know she was married, too. So that rules out the imaginary-friend hypothesis.

Maybe he's just jerking me around, which both pisses me off and pleases me, in a petty way. Because if he's going to all that trouble, then I still matter.

I see Mike didn't leave a call-back number or say anything in his message about rescheduling. Maybe he's not sick, in which case all those other doctors are right and Stacey's delusional. That's not it either.

Maybe he's sick and doesn't realize it, or he's listening to some idiot doctor who can't diagnose anything that's not on the short ICD-9 check-off form. In which case I really do need to see him.

The doors open and I trudge out. Stacey will be calling me soon to find out how the exam went. We're going to have to come up with something better than this.

2 Comments:

Blogger Sanlin said...

Well, this is a splendid role reversal. Usually *you're* the one trying to dodge seeing patients. LOL Now that you have a patient ducking out on *you,* I'm sure you'll find a way to hunt him down and examine him. LOL ;-)

If his name was *Mickey* and his address was Disneyland, I'd be *suspicious* about his status as a "real boy." LOL ;-) But, alas, I think the guy exists, Stacey *is* married to him and his ailment's probably not imaginary, either. Seems like it's being a tricky little Dickens, whatever it is, though. ;-)

*whistles and ponders the fact that "time is not a fixed construct"* ;-) (This reminds me of the lines from the movie "Spaceballs..." "When will *then* be *now?*" "Soon." LOL)

June 13, 2005 3:45 PM  
Anonymous Benj said...

Monrning/Evening Doc

Noticing you didn't get any sleep last night, so please don't screw up this pink slip straight off, you don't need to call me back.

I'm just one of those people your hoping to avoid in your clinic. Like the internet, but not too smart. Just figured, out after months of reading your journal,how to leave you a message.

I'll stick to leaving messages to make you feel warm and fuzzy, Princeton a is little too from York, England for even a hardened hypochondrirac to pose a threat to your clinic/baseball watching duty

Don't worry about Wilson, you matter to him.

'Maybe/Maybe not existing Mark'- I'd follow Foreman's advice from a couple of weeks back, be yourself, be a jerk and if he doesn't think he's ill it should be a fairly winning combination.

But be careful with Stacy, sounds like she liked you even though you were a jerk. No answers on that one.

I'd pick up the iPod, go find an empty lounge and get a few hours kip, sounds like your in for a long one.

Benj

June 14, 2005 2:36 AM  

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