Chapter 31
Despite it being the first day of winter, Sylvia took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves in anticipation of her six-monthly cleaning ritual at the clinic. They had a professional cleaner of course; it was necessary in an environment frequented by tons of sick people, not to mention children with perpetually runny noses and the odd insect stuck in a bodily orifice. But this was a different cleaning job. This was the biannual complete rejuvenation of her consulting room, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. No cleaner, professional or otherwise, could do as good a job as she.
She’d remove everything from the desk, shelves, storage cabinets, and even remove the pictures from the wall, in order to clean every corner and crevice of the room. Then she’d discard old items, and reorganise the others, putting them away in the most appropriate place to allow for a clutter-free look and efficient withdrawal when the item was needed. It was a shame Dr Bronovski didn’t aspire to such heights. Once, when Sylvia went to his room to borrow a book on spinal injuries, she’d opened the book only to have a spider crawl out and onto her hand, her reflex response causing the spider and the book to be flung against the wall behind her. Probably giving the spider a spinal injury of its own, the poor thing.
‘Hi Dr Greene,’ a woman said as Sylvia exited the storeroom carrying a stepladder, an array of cloths, and a bottle of Spray & Wipe.
The woman was a heavily pregnant Samantha Roseford. ‘Samantha, how are you?’
‘Pretty good. Could pop any day now,’ she said, rubbing her belly. ‘All’s looking good for a natural birth at this stage, which is good, but scary at the same time!’
‘Natural is better whenever possible. Have you just had an appointment with someone?’ Sylvia asked.
Samantha nodded. ‘The physio. My back’s been killing me. Feels much better now, but there’s only so much you can do when there are two human beings pressing on my nerves. Not to mention my bladder!’
Sylvia nodded in sympathy. ‘Well, take it easy. And remember, early labour can sometimes feel like a backache, so if it persists or gets worse, make sure you contact Dr Engelstein or the hospital, okay?’ Sylvia remembered the sensation. A dull, crawling ache spreading throughout her lower back, like a grey storm cloud looming on the horizon. Then the tight pain, extending around to her front, sharp like one gigantic hailstone trying to erupt. And just when you think you can’t take any more, the relief comes like a breath of fresh air. But only for a moment. Soon, the stormy pain becomes a tornado within, increasing in intensity with each heartbeat. Sylvia winced at the memory. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She thought she’d been prepared, but nothing could have prepared her for the enormity of the pain, or how feverish and out of control she’d felt during each contraction.
‘Yep, don’t worry, I’m going straight home to put my feet up. Mike’s on cooking duty till these munchkins are born, and probably for a while after, I’d say!’ Samantha hobbled past Sylvia then stopped, curiously eyeing the cleaning equipment. ‘I didn’t know you were a cleaner as well as a doctor.’
Sylvia laughed. ‘No, I’m just giving my room a bit of a spring clean—in winter.’
‘Feel free to come by my house anytime, Dr Greene,’ Samantha said, winking.
Sylvia farewelled Samantha and made her way into her consulting room. She opened up the folded stepladder and placed it below the wall shelves, before placing her hands on her hips and surveying the scene, mentally planning her mission.
An hour and a half later the mission was nearly complete. Sylvia stood on top of the ladder putting folders and archive boxes away on the top shelf, when a knock sounded on the door. Mark Bastian popped his head around the door.
‘I’m off, you right to lock up?’
‘Of course,’ she replied.
‘Good.’ Mark disappeared for a moment before popping his head back in. ‘How’s Grace? She must be feeling a lot better by now?’
Grace had been taking the required tablets religiously, so she said, since her hospital visit almost two months ago. Sylvia had managed to get her to stay a whole week at her place before Grace said she didn’t want to impose any further, and that she’d be fine back at the caravan. She’d cut back on her sporting endeavours, but returned to taekwondo, and kept up a consistent practise schedule on Sylvia’s piano. ‘She is, thanks for asking. Levels aren’t completely back to normal, but they’re well on their way.’
‘That’s good. She came in a few weeks ago and was much better then, so I was hoping things were still improving,’ Mark said.
‘Yes, she mentioned how she quite enjoys her acupuncture sessions now. Says they’re relaxing. But how anyone could enjoy having tiny needles stuck into their skin is beyond me!’ Sylvia managed a friendly laugh.
‘You should try it sometime, you might be pleasantly surprised.’ Mark’s lips formed that incredibly charming smile, and Sylvia looked away.
‘Hmmm…we’ll see.’ She placed the last folder on the top shelf and stepped onto the rung of the ladder below her feet. Her right toe didn’t quite grab though, and it slipped downwards. A sting burned her ankle and a jolt jumped up through her body as her bottom landed with a thud on the floor.
‘Are you alright?’ Mark asked, kneeling on the floor next to her.
All she could do was scrunch up her face as though she was in labour. ‘Ow!’ A red swelling grew on her ankle, and she clutched at it in effort to stop it.
‘Here, let me get you up on the bed.’ Mark gathered her in his arms, just as he’d done with Grace the night she’d collapsed. Mark didn’t make a sound as he lifted her, but Sylvia knew he held back a grunt. She wasn’t that heavy, but lifting another adult usually required at least some verbal strain. He paused in front of the examination bed, Sylvia still in his arms. ‘On second thoughts, let’s get you onto my bed. I mean, the bed…table thingy in my room…the one I use for acupuncture!’ Mark’s face was almost as red as her ankle, but she wasn’t up to making a joke about it. Mark, along with his cumbersome load, swivelled around quickly towards the direction of the door, but Sylvia’s ankle collided with the bed.
‘Owwww!!’
‘Sorry!’
‘Christ! Why did you have to go and do that!’ Sylvia yelled. ‘Holy Mother of God this hurts!’ Sylvia bit her lip to stifle the pain, and Mark swivelled this way and that, seemingly unsure of whether to put her down or continue with his decision of transferring her to his bed, er, table. As Sylvia continued her blasphemous expletives, Mark scurried into his room and placed her onto his acupuncture table, elevating Sylvia’s leg on a pillow.
‘Ice. You need ice. Hold on!’ Mark disappeared then returned with an icepack covered in a flannel pouch. He placed it on her ankle and wrapped a bandage firmly around it.
‘Arghh! Too cold!’
‘Tough. You need it. You know—RICE?’
‘What are you talking about? I don’t need rice! Arghh!’
‘Not rice, R-I-C-E. Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation. Basic first aid?’ Mark teased like she’d forgotten the sum of two plus two. ‘The ice will numb it a little soon, then I’ll see what magic I can summon from my bag of tricks.’ He smiled at her, clearly amused by her low pain threshold.
‘Magic my arse, get me some pain killers now!’
‘Sylvia, don’t be so quick to resort to drugs. I can help you, just trust me.’
Trust me? Whenever anyone uttered those words the situation never ended well. Dear God, help me! Although, he probably wasn’t listening to her now after all her cursing.
Mark left the room and returned with a glass of water. He took a container of something off a shelf, and paused before opening it. ‘You’re not on any blood-thinning medications or immune suppressants by any chance are you?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Take these, it’ll help.’ Mark held three capsules and the glass of water in front of Sylvia, and she scrunched up her face even more.
‘What are they?’
‘Anti
-inflammatory and pain relieving herbs, plus some nutrients.’
‘Forget that, get me some Nurofen, please!’
‘Sylvia, just give these a go. It’s the same formula I took to heal my old soccer injury. They’re perfectly safe, and very effective,’ Mark urged.
‘Oh yeah? Show me the clinical trial results.’
‘They’ve had some basic studies done on them, but unfortunately there’s no funding for the incredibly expensive process of a clinical trial,’ Mark said. ‘That doesn’t mean they don’t work though. I can trawl through the research on the ingredients now if you like, might take me an hour or so. Or…’ Mark held the capsules close to Sylvia’s mouth. ‘You can open your mouth and swallow the bloody tablets!’
‘Okay, okay!’ Sylvia put one capsule on her tongue and took a swig of water, before swallowing the remaining two. ‘There. Happy now?’
‘Not yet. A combination of therapies works best.’ Mark ripped open an alcohol swab.
‘What are you doing?’ Sylvia inched her head back, cowering in her vulnerability.
Mark smiled. ‘Looks like you’ll be trying acupuncture sooner than you thought.’ He peeled back the hem on her trousers, rolling it up to the knee.
Despite being still in pain, Sylvia quickly leaned forward, trying to remember if she’d shaved her legs. Some days in winter she’d give it a miss, but she couldn’t stand the stubbly feeling and was usually a regular shaver. Relieved to find no stubble in sight, it finally registered what Mark was about to do. ‘You’re not going to stick needles into my sore ankle are you?’
Mark repositioned the icepack to the underside of Sylvia’s ankle and wiped the alcohol swab on a few areas of her foot and leg. He then picked up something small and held it just under her kneecap, and tapped at it. When he removed his hand a tiny hair-like needle protruded from her skin.
‘That’s it?’ she asked.
Mark simply smiled and nodded, before doing the same thing twice more, to a spot at the base of her toe, and then, right on the ankle. She didn’t even feel them go in!
‘Dr Greene, you are now experiencing the benefits of acupuncture,’ he said smugly.
‘I don’t know about benefits, the pain’s still there,’ Sylvia assured.
‘Give it time. I’ll also do some other points to help with your anxiety.’ Mark opened another alcohol swab.
‘Anxiety? I’m not anxious, I’m in pain!’
Mark swabbed a spot on her wrist, and another on her ear.
‘My ear? Don’t you dare stick a needle in my ear!’
He tapped a needle into her wrist, then brought his hands to her ear. ‘I see you’ve got your ears pierced. This’ll be nothing to you.’
Sylvia braced herself, but a quick tap later it was done. Nothing. It didn’t hurt. But she probably looked like a pincushion.
‘I’ll leave those in for about fifteen minutes. Just close your eyes and try to relax, while I make a herbal compress for your ankle.’ Sylvia watched as Mark put his iPod into a dock on his desk, then went to the bench on the side wall to make whatever he was going to make.
Relaxation music softly permeated the room, and she finally did as she was told and closed her eyes, trying to relax despite the rhythmic throbbing in her ankle. After a while, Mark came over to her and began removing the needles, pushing down on her skin with a cotton ball after he removed each one.
‘It’s not so bad now, is it?’ he asked.
The pain had certainly reduced, it was no longer a ‘Holy Mother of God!’ type of pain, but more of an ‘Oh, Geez!’ type of pain. ‘I think the ice has numbed the pain a bit,’ was all she was prepared to say.
‘Now I’ll remove the ice, you still need some blood flow to the area.’ Mark gently pressed a herb-soaked cloth into her skin, and wrapped it around her ankle. ‘Leave this compress on for a while, then alternate between that and the ice every twenty minutes.’
‘Okay, but…I do have to get home you know, I can’t stay here all night.’
‘It’s alright, I’ll drive you home. But I think you should give work a miss tomorrow so you can keep the ankle elevated, and use the ice and compress every two hours.’
‘I can’t miss work! My hands and brain still work, I can just stay seated and elevate my foot at lunchtime,’ Sylvia demanded.
‘Well, it’s up to you, but my advice would be to rest. Otherwise you could have a sore ankle for a few weeks, but if you follow my advice it may only be a few days of discomfort,’ Mark said. ‘Look, while we wait for the compress to do its magic, why don’t I call Joyce to let her know what’s happened, and I’ll call the patients booked in tomorrow to reschedule them?’
He was right. And Sylvia decided she’d much prefer to recover from this injury sooner rather than later. ‘Okay then, Dr Bastian,’ Sylvia said. ‘As long as you don’t mind?’
‘No problem,’ he replied, and turned the music up a little before walking from the room.
Wow. He was prepared to play receptionist for her? That would be a lot of phone calls he’d have to make. Plus, Mr Benson was due in tomorrow. He’d probably keep Mark on the phone for hours. Sylvia took a deep breath, deciding to make the most of the time by mentally planning her day tomorrow. If she was going to stay home she didn’t want it to be a waste. First, she’d catch up on reading the medical journals she’d stored away. Then, she’d call her parents to double-check they were all set to come to the charity concert this weekend. Then, she’d indulge and spend time reading a novel, which she normally only did in the evening before bed. She could keep some food on her bedside table, and order a pizza delivery for dinner. Hmm, apart from the sore ankle, this might actually be fun! In a way it was nice to be a patient for a day instead of a doctor.
‘How you manage that much of a patient load I have no idea,’ Mark said as he came back in the room over an hour later. ‘And Mr Benson likes to talk, doesn’t he? How’s the ankle?’
‘Resting is helping,’ Sylvia replied. She wasn’t yet prepared to say his treatment was helping.
‘I’m sure it is.’ Mark grinned. ‘I’ve put the herbal capsules and a bottle of liquid herbs to use for the compress in this bag.’ He held up a paper bag. ‘You’ll need to take three capsules every two or three hours, but don’t exceed eighteen capsules in the one day, got it?’
‘Got it.’
‘And every two hours, put ice on the ankle for twenty minutes, then the compress for another twenty minutes, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Good. I’ve brought the car round front, so let’s get you home.’ Mark slid his arms underneath her, ready to lift.
‘Wait. I need my handbag, it’s in my room,’ Sylvia said.
Mark walked out and soon came back, the bag strap across his shoulder.
‘Nice look, Marky,’ Sylvia teased.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He went to lift her again, but Sylvia stopped him.
‘I think I can walk out, if you grab me some crutches from the store room?’
‘Alright then. You’ll be needing them at home anyway.’ Again, Mark left the room and returned, this time with crutches under his arms, one foot off the ground, pretending to be Sylvia. ‘Holy Mother of God!’ he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.
‘Ha ha, very funny. I’d like to see you deal with a sprained ankle that’s been whacked against a hard surface by an indecisive man.’
‘I’d like to see you try to lift a grown adult from the floor onto a bed,’ Mark rebutted.
‘I reckon I could,’ Sylvia replied.
Mark grinned as he helped Sylvia off the bed, wedging the crutches into her armpits.
Twenty minutes later they were sitting in Sylvia’s living room, Sylvia’s foot propped up on the coffee table, eating Thai food and discussing their past injuries and illnesses.
‘When I was about seven, I was standing next to a see-saw in the park when my friend jumped on the other end of it, the wooden seat flying up and hitting me in the chin. Eight stitches, I needed,’ Sy
lvia said proudly.
‘Beat this—my brother and I were skateboarding one day when I was about eight, and we sat on them to roll down a steep hill. I careened into some shrubbery and a branch scraped into my leg as I rolled past. Fourteen stitches,’ Mark said even more proudly than Sylvia.
‘Well, when I was sixteen I spent thirteen hours in excruciating pain that no acupuncture needle could ever fix. As for stitches, I won’t even go there!’
‘Okay you win,’ Mark said, smiling.
Childbirth. Barring large kidney stones, it always won out for the most painful experience. Although during her hospital training in the emergency department, Sylvia had seen things that seemed contradictory to that. She’d enjoyed the excitement of the emergency rotation, but couldn’t do it all the time—too unpredictable. Chronic care in a relaxed clinical setting was more her thing.
‘I better get going and leave you to get some sleep,’ Mark said, getting up from the couch. ‘I’ll send you an itemised bill for tonight’s treatment, shall I?’ He raised his eyebrows.
Was he serious? Sylvia searched his face, his expression straightlaced, before it softened into a wide grin. The bugger!
‘Got you there didn’t I! Don’t worry, I’ll put this one down as a free trial,’ he said. ‘Now let me help you get organised for the night before I go.’ He switched off the lights, leaving the hall light on, and put the empty food containers in the bin. ‘I’ll put these in your room,’ he said, lifting up a bottle of water, the herbal capsules, and her handbag. Then he came over to Sylvia and despite her protest, lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed. He brought the crutches in and laid them against the wall, and wrapped a newly soaked herbal compress around her ankle. ‘Do you have an old stretchy sock you can wear over the compress to hold it in place and prevent staining your sheets?’
The January Wish Page 21
