Anything You Can Do

The granola bar slips out with the word and lands with a splack on top of Dr. McCormick’s brown leather loafers.

He shakes his head and turns, not nearly as amused as he should be.

“Diane is waiting for you two in room four,” Mariah says. “No rush. I just put her in and she’s still getting her robe on.”

Lucas and I look at one another and then book it out of the kitchen in tandem.

“Look, bike safety is not something to ignore,” he says, pointing to my cast. “I think my parents still have Madeleine’s old training wheels in the garage. I’d be happy to install them for you.”

I roll my eyes and let his words deflect off my bullshit force field. When all of this is over, it will be doubly satisfying knowing I out-doctored him with one arm tied behind my back.

“I can’t believe we have to see patients together like we’re first-year interns.”

I elbow him out of the way so I can nab Diane’s chart first. “Oh please. You should be so lucky to go into an exam room with me.”

He nearly smiles and then covers it up with a hard cough. My heart soars and I cover it up with a cough of my own. We are two hacking doctors standing in the hallway, moments away from being locked in padded rooms.

“So how do we want to play this?” he interrupts, changing the subject and reaching down to angle the chart so he can read it as well.

“Let’s alternate taking the lead,” I suggest diplomatically. “I’ll go first.”

“Of course.”

My time in the hospital waiting room the day before gave me a lot of time to consider my three-phase plan. Dr. McCormick went out of his way to lay down the criteria he’s looking for: community engagement and patient satisfaction. The latter will come naturally, over weeks of working in the office and worming my way into our patients’ hearts. The former will take some engineering, but I already have a brilliant idea.

Every year, Hamilton High hosts a fair that celebrates the founding of the town and gives kids of all ages an excuse to eat cotton candy until they puke. The PTA invites businesses to rent out booths and I plan on hosting one for McCormick Family Practice. Community engagement: check.

“Dr. Bell, are you nearly finished reviewing her chart? I’ve never seen such medical devotion to a case of the sniffles,” Lucas says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

I flip Diane’s chart closed and open her door. “Ms. Pecos, how are you feeling today?”

“Terrible,” she replies with a congested Texas accent.

“What seems to be the trouble?”

“Stuffy nose, watery eyes, you name it. I have a terrible headache that only goes away when I sleep. It’s been this way for the last three days.”

I check to confirm she has no fever.

“Ms. Pecos, we’ll run a few tests to confirm, but it sounds like it could be a nasty cold. You might just have to let it run its course—”

“No! That won’t work!” She wrings out her hands. “You see, there’s this guy. We’re supposed to be going on a third date tonight.”

“Well if you’re worried it might be contagious, you can always reschedu—”

“No, you don't get it. This is the sexiest guy I've ever dated, and I think he wants to take the relationship to the next level. Tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“I can’t do…that…with a runny nose and puffy eyes!” She looks frantic.

"Well if he’s a good guy,” Lucas says. “He’ll understand a little cold."

She looks between the two of us like we’re idiots.

“No! Haven’t either of you been with someone you’re so attracted to you can hardly stand it?”

I swallow.

“Almost like you can’t even handle standing in the same room as them. Your hands sweat, your heart rate goes up, and”—Lucas and I meet each other’s eyes and then immediately glance away—“and I just want everything to be perfect. You have to help me.”

I push Lucas closer.

“I understand. Don’t worry Ms. Pecos, we’re going to do everything we can to help. My assistant here is going to swab your throat so we can rule out a bacterial infection.”

Lucas gives me annoyed side-eye, but still reaches for the long cotton swab.

Once he’s swabbed her throat, he hands the sample off to Mariah in the hallway to prep. “How long have your eyes bothered you?” Lucas asks. “Were they irritated before you got sick?”

I hold my arm out to separate him from Ms. Pecos. “I apologize for the twenty questions—he’s shadowing me today, and he’s still learning how to interact with patients. Sit up straight for me and let’s have a listen to your lungs.”

I move around the exam table and maneuver into position, only to realize my cast will make it nearly impossible. I try to put my stethoscope on one-handed and Lucas steps closer.

“I don’t need your help,” I mutter.

He tilts his head and watches me struggle.

After ten long seconds, I get the stethoscope in place. “Right, okay. Deep breath for me.”