Grumpy Doctor

I watched her go and realized we hadn’t spoken a single word.

“Come in,” Rees said from inside.

I pulled open the door and stepped into an office. A heavy, thick rug covered the floor, and huge bookcases flanked the massive wooden desk. Rees looked up with a scowl. He seemed busy reading the paper, which I guessed was what he’d been doing the whole time, since he was close to the end. He checked his watch and grunted as I closed the door.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I said.

“It’s fine,” he said, although he sounded like it definitely wasn’t. “Take a seat.”

I sat, and leaned forward, holding the stack of files on my knees. He frowned at them, then up to me.

“I was doing some research,” I said. “Looking into past patients. I made some calls.”

“Did you now?” he said, frowning slightly, eyebrows raised. “And what did you find?”

“I found that they’re more loyal to me than they are to any hospital.”

He laughed, and seemed genuinely delighted by that. I knew this was a risk—he sat on the board of Westview, and he could easily decide that the hospital was more important than however he might feel toward me through his cousin. Still I knew I had no other options, and I got the sense that Rees was a pragmatic man. I forced away any nerves, and tried to treat this like a normal procedure.

At least now, the only life in the balance was my own.

“That’s very interesting, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he said.

“I have eight patients here.” I placed the stack on his desk, putting them down behind several small sculptures: a fertility goddess, a black Lab, a chestnut horse. Each file contained the most basic information possible, to avoid any potential HIPAA violations. “I know eight doesn’t sound like a lot, but these are eight very wealthy older individuals that are in need of services such as those I provide. These are eight former patients that would become new patients—and might be good streams of revenue.”

Rees chuckled darkly. “Strange, to talk about human lives as sources of income.”

“I’m aware, but it’s also how hospitals operate.”

“True.” He picked up the stack and weighed it. “You did this today?”

“Called every former patient I thought might be worth calling.”

“That must have been hard.”

I clenched my jaw and nodded once. The memory was still fresh. I hated putting myself out like that. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“I’m not completely sure yet,” I admitted, and leaned back in the comfortable leather chair. “There’s a part of me that wants to be back in the good graces of Westview.”

He tapped the folders. “You think these patients can do that?”

“I think they’re a start.”

“You would need five hundred of these to make those vultures give a damn about you again.”

His words stung. I watched him open one of the folders and leaf through the pages. I felt myself beginning to unravel at the idea that all this was for nothing, that I was throwing myself out there again and again, desperately trying to win the approval of people that didn’t give a damn about me—but it wasn’t about Gina or Caroline. It was about that hospital, the one place I knew better than anywhere, and continuing to practice medicine the way I always had.

I didn’t want to give that up. I was willing to wade through shit to get there, if that was what it took.

But Rees’s tone suggested there was nothing I could do.

“Eight is a good start,” I said. “There could be more.”

“You misunderstand me. I should put it another way.” He put the folder down, and pushed the stack back toward me. “You could bring me an infinite supply of rich old ladies with very simple maladies and very deep pockets, and they still wouldn’t take you back. They’ve made their choice, and you need to live with it.”

I took the folders back and stared at them. I knew he was right, and I knew this had been a stupid, foolish thing from the start. I wanted to fix my problems, but sometimes problems couldn’t be fixed, no matter how hard I tried, or how much I worked. It didn’t matter—the administration had made up its mind about me, and decided to sacrifice me to the Tippetts. Whether I liked it or not.

“It seems I’ve wasted your time then,” I said, trying to keep the anger from my tone. I felt used and idiotic as I stood up and prepared to leave.

“Westview might not take you back with those,” Rees said, holding up a hand to stop me. “But I know other hospitals that would be happy to give a talented young surgeon a job, especially one that comes with a good roster already.”