The Doctor Calling

by Meredith Appleyard

  Her husband had been gone a week. Through seven painful days she’d dragged herself, and for seven endless nights she’d lain awake until she couldn’t bear it any longer and had downed the sleeping pills Jake had brought from Laura. She had to carry on for Sam and Mikey, she would give some semblance of normalcy to their upheaved lives.

  She put the kettle on, thought about the wine in the pantry. The television blasted in the background and Sam’s laughter rang out. She dropped a tea bag into a mug and spooned in sugar. Last night Darren had phoned, asking to speak to the boys. When she’d heard his voice, the chaos of her emotions had sent her dashing to the bathroom to be sick. Sam had watched her, and had then taken the telephone handset, his sweet, guileless face creased with concern.

  She sat at the kitchen table, her tea cooling in front of her. Her anger towards Darren was threatening to paralyse her. Jake wouldn’t be around forever and she couldn’t manage the farm on her own. Decision made, she leaped to her feet, the sudden movement sending the chair skidding back across the linoleum. She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks, lifted the phone handset out of its cradle.

  ‘Dad?’

  The single syllable felt uncomfortable on Jake’s tongue. Since that conversation he’d overheard twenty years ago, he had only ever thought of him as Neill or the old man.

  Neill put the telephone down; his haggard face was leached of any colour.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me Darren had left her?’

  ‘It wasn’t my secret to tell.’

  ‘I knew something wasn’t right. I haven’t seen Darren for a couple of weeks, and she never mentioned him, until now. She’s upset.’

  ‘Of course she’s upset. Life as she knew it is over.’

  Neill drew a shaky hand across his face, eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘Do you think he’ll come back?’

  Jake grabbed a beer from the fridge. ‘No idea. And I don’t know if she’d have him back if he came.’

  ‘There’s no way she’ll be able to manage the place on her own.’ Neill looked at him, expectantly.

  Jake’s fingers curled around the cold beer.

  ‘Not going to happen,’ he said quietly, calmly. ‘I’ll help her out while I’m here, but that’s it.’

  Neill sagged, but the recriminations Jake was expecting didn’t come. The old man didn’t say anything. No lecture, no nothing.

  Jake slowly sipped his beer but there was no enjoyment in it, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

  Kaylene Curtis didn’t hide her surprise when Laura walked through the automatic doors into the health centre the following morning.

  ‘Milt rang me about nine last night,’ Laura said. ‘He was already on his way to Adelaide. Said something had come up.’

  ‘Oh.’ Kaylene looked miffed. She studied the computer screen and then the printed patient list she’d prepared for Doctor Burns. ‘I guess he’d want you to see his scheduled patients.’

  ‘I guess so. What would have happened if I hadn’t been here to cover?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I would have contacted all his patients and rescheduled them. It’s never happened before.’

  ‘What, he’s never missed a day because he was sick or something?’

  ‘Not in the twenty years I’ve been here.’

  ‘Amazing. I’ll ring the hospital later, ask if there’s anyone up there I need to see.’

  Kaylene nodded her perfectly coiffured head. ‘I wonder what’s going on?’ she said, soft enough that Laura had to strain to hear her.

  ‘I guess he’ll tell us if he wants us to know.’

  Kaylene didn’t say anything more. She handed Laura the patient list and then busied herself at the desk, ignoring her, so Laura made her way to her consulting room to prepare for the day.

  Laura stifled her grumbling stomach as she studied the pathology results again. A thin, nervous woman sat in the chair facing her.

  How could Milt Burns have missed that?

  The patient had come for repeat prescriptions. Because Laura had never seen her before she’d quickly scanned her most recent visits and pathology results. She re-read the clinical notes on the screen. When you put together that history with the ongoing signs and symptoms, it was plain as the nose on your face. But he’d missed it.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ the patient asked.

  ‘Yes, all okay. I just wanted to double-check what blood tests Doctor Burns had done already before I ordered any more tests for you.’

  The woman fidgeted with her lacy handkerchief. ‘I didn’t realise I’d need more tests. Doctor Burns said I was getting older and doing too much physical activity, that’s why I feel so tired.’

  ‘That might be part of it, but perhaps there is something else going on and another blood test will help confirm that.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s cancer, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t. However, we need to be sure and this test, and then maybe a referral to an endocrinologist, will give us the answers we need.’

  The woman’s expression clouded, her wrinkled brow furrowed even more and she shifted in the chair. And then she slowly pushed up the sleeve of her blouse for Laura to take the blood.

  After she’d shown the patient out, Laura went in search of coffee and something to eat. The lunch room was empty, the smell of something savoury lingered in the air and the kettle was still hot. She reheated her leftovers and thought about how Milt Burns would react to her provisional diagnosis, and the ongoing investigations she’d ordered.

  In her city practice, Laura had had some patients who were officially ‘hers’ but, increasingly, the GPs she’d worked with had been happy to see anyone. This was becoming the norm and it had an upside and a downside. On the upside, the frequent flyers, those patients who were very dependent on the health system for one reason or another, were shared around. On the downside, after working to establish a rapport with a particular patient, there was a chance that you might not see them again. Laura’s opinion was that with the appearance of more and more mega-practices and 24-hour clinics, the pressure was on, much to the detriment of the traditional role of the family doctor.

  Milt Burns had been the go-to person, the family doctor, in this community for years. And here she was, much younger, not as experienced, and a woman to boot. Laura accepted it would take time for the community, and for him, to trust her. She looked up from the sink and caught her reflection in the window. She was thinking like someone who planned to be around long enough for them to do just that.

  Laura’s heart had given an extra thud when she’d knocked on Neill’s back door later that evening and Jake had greeted her with obvious pleasure.

  ‘You look beat,’ he said, holding the door open.

  ‘So do you.’

  Now she stood in Neill’s kitchen, watching Jake wash up dinner dishes. Up to his elbows in suds was a new and unexpected look; it suited him. His hair was still damp from the shower, his jeans and t-shirt freshly laundered. Reluctantly she shifted her focus, picked up a tea towel and began to dry the dishes.

  ‘I’ve had a long, busy and sometimes frustrating day. What about you?’

  He dunked the dirty frying pan into the water. ‘Same. I’ve been out at the farm today. I’d forgotten how never-ending farm work was. There’s not a time when you’ve done everything. And the place is pretty rundown.’

  ‘How’s Jess?’

  ‘She told Dad last night.’

  The tea towel stilled in her hands. ‘How did he take it?’

  Jake pulled the plug, wiped the frying pan over with the dishcloth and set it on the stovetop. ‘He didn’t say much at all. He hardly ate anything tonight, went to bed straight after. Looks more like a skeleton every day. But we did agree I’d need to lend a hand out there. She can’t manage on her own. It’ll be up to us to juggle Neill’s care and the farm work.’

  ‘So how is she in herself?’

  ‘So-so. Darren rang
on Monday night and asked to speak to Sam and Mikey.’

  ‘Wow. That would have been tough.’

  ‘She seemed a bit brighter today, now that she’s told the old man. Although I don’t think she’s sleeping much. The boys’ grandmother offered to come and stay, take some of the pressure off, but Jess knows everything she says or does will get back to Darren.’ His expression darkened. ‘Prick.’ He went to the fridge. ‘Do you want a beer?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m still on call,’ she said, draping the tea towel over the oven doorhandle. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. I really just wanted to see how Neill was.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. With a click and a fizz he opened a can and quickly raised it to his mouth before the froth ran down the side. He leaned against the sink, crossed his ankles, swiped his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. ‘Any after effects?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘From your adventure on the roof.’

  ‘It scared me. But I was counting on you coming along eventually.’

  He lifted his eyebrows. ‘Do you want me to clean the rest of the gutters?’

  She tipped her head to one side. ‘Thanks, Jake, but no, you’ve got enough of your own stuff to do. I’m not about to risk getting up there again. I’ll ask Gav when he gets time.’

  ‘Whatever,’ he said. Judging by the way his lips tightened, she wondered if she should have accepted the offer.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said but her feet felt as if they’d stuck to the floor. He took another swallow of beer and put the can on the sink.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ he said but made no move to do so.

  Not game to look at him, she focussed on his chest, on the black cotton t-shirt stretched across its broad expanse. Her eyes travelled down over the faded denims, which clung to his lean hips and then, when she realised what she was doing, she snapped her eyes quickly back up to find him watching her, a faint glint of amusement and something else in his hazel gaze.

  ‘So, what’s Doctor Burns like to work for?’ he said. He went to the fridge again, looked in, shut the door.

  She settled back against the cupboard. ‘Oh, I don’t see that much of him. I shouldn’t really see him at all, given he’s meant to be having days off when I’m there.’

  Jake filled the electric kettle and turned it on, then reached around her for a mug. ‘Tea, coffee?’

  ‘Tea,’ she said and moved so he could get to the canisters on the bench. ‘There are a few things I’m not comfortable with, but I’m sure that’s more about my not understanding the right way of going about things. What’s politically correct in any given circumstance seems to vary, which makes it difficult.’

  ‘Like?’

  She sighed, debated whether or not to say anything about the issues worrying her.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes the lines around whose patient is whose aren’t clear, for instance, especially because I work part-time. And the after hours on-call, well, there’s no formal protocol. The other night he was on call but didn’t answer his phone, so they called me. When they finally raised him, he got all snippy.’

  Jake poured water onto the tea bag and passed her the brew. ‘Personally, I don’t have much time for the bloke. He’s probably a good doctor. I dunno, Dad says he’s all right, and to give him his due, he’s stayed here, looked after this community.’

  ‘I agree, he has done the right thing by Potters Junction, and although I know he wants to cut back, I have a feeling he’ll have trouble letting go.’

  Jake took his beer and sat down at the kitchen table, pushing closed the passage door on his way past. She dunked the tea bag a few times and dropped it into the bin before pulling up a chair opposite Jake.

  ‘It must be hard to let go, especially in a place where you’ve been so important for so long. The GP whose place I took at the Adelaide practice was seventy-six when he finally put down his stethoscope. He’d got quite a reputation for relying on Doctor Google. Every patient went away with a fistful of printed information and not much else, so the story goes. Then one of his longtime patients asked him if he’d retire when his printer ran out of ink.’

  ‘Ha!’ Jake leaned back in the chair, laced his fingers behind his head. ‘Here’s what I think – everyone, including him, realises he’s getting past it, needs to cut back and transition into retirement. I appreciate how hard it would be to get a doctor to come out here and stay. And then you come along . . . ’ He let the sentence hang and Laura chewed at her bottom lip as she considered his remarks.

  ‘I’m not sure it’ll be me that stays but just the same, it works for now.’

  ‘You love it,’ he said. ‘You’ll always be a GP. What do they say? It’s your calling.’

  She rested her elbows on the table, her chin on her hands. ‘What about you, how does it feel to be back on the farm?’

  His indulgent expression disappeared. He rocked forward in his chair, picked up his unfinished beer. ‘I’m here, helping Neill, and Jess needs help. I can offer it. Like you, it works for now.’

  ‘But do you like it?’ she persisted.

  ‘It’s what I know. A bit like riding a bike. Some things have changed, although not as much as you’d think.’

  ‘You were quite young when you went away.’

  ‘Yeah, but how do you reckon I supported myself when I left home? I worked as a farmhand. Ironic, huh?’

  ‘Life has one irony after another. How’d you get into what you do now?’

  ‘I fell into it, in a way. When I left I headed to the west, I wanted to find Mum.’ He took a sip of beer. ‘I found her and you know how well that went. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Her choice, not necessarily mine.’

  ‘Your mother must have been so very unhappy here, to give up you and Jess like she did.’

  ‘You think she did the right thing?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that at all. What I’ve concluded from my years in general practice, and from my life experience is that does anyone ever really know what goes on between a man and a woman in a relationship like marriage? Except them, of course? There are times when even they don’t understand what’s going on. And often there aren’t right decisions, there are only decisions that are less wrong.’

  He didn’t say anything but his eyes never left hers. He leaned forward again and picked up where he’d left off.

  ‘I left Perth and headed north, picked up farm work wherever I could, did a bit of shearing and hated it. That went on for about three or four years, until an opportunity to work in the mines came up, which I took. At one point, a couple more years down the track, I was looking for work near Geraldton and they were making some film out in the bush, so a mate and I signed on as extras. That didn’t come to anything but I met a few of the crew, helped out a bit, lugging gear about, and one of the blokes said if I was ever in Melbourne to look him up. So I did.’

  ‘And one thing led to another and you ended up making documentaries?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that. I always liked cameras, photography. Even as a kid. Dad gave me a camera when I was fourteen.’

  ‘He knew you liked photography.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly. ‘I suppose he did. Some of my early stuff is still out at the farm. Jess had a few shots framed, she said Neill had kept them.’ His expression became pensive. ‘Life’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Thank God for second chances.’

  ‘It’s good if you get them, you just have to make sure you don’t muff them the second time around.’

  He stifled a yawn and she stood up with a start, taking his empty can and her mug to the sink. ‘I’d better head off.’

  He didn’t try to stop her. When she loitered on the back step he said, ‘Goodnight, Laura. If you get caught up with work and want me to water your garden anytime, just let me know. You have my number.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m off tomorrow. I’ll drop in and see Neill, make sure he has some lunch.’

  ‘That would be good. I
t’ll save me driving in from the farm at lunchtime.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and he was already closing the door.

  He closed the door. When he heard the gate clank shut he flicked off the back light.

  ‘Shit,’ he said to himself. Every time he saw Laura, or thought about her, his body ached from wanting. But he was exhausted and his muscles already ached from physical work. The ten-hour days at the farm plus the forty-minute return drive at lunch to check on Neill were taking their toll. And as tired as he was, his sleep was shallow, always alert in case he was needed in the night.

  He snatched open the fridge door and grabbed another beer. It was still early, pointless going to bed when all he’d do was toss and turn.

  Standing at the kitchen window he stared out into the dark shadows of the backyard and slowly drank the beer. What he’d said to Laura earlier had been the truth. Being back on the farm was all right. It was better than he’d imagined, in fact. Although tiring, there was a sense of satisfaction to be gained from a hard day’s work and he could feel his muscles hardening, could see his skin darkening from the hours under the relentless sun.

  Maybe, if he stayed the summer, until Neill . . . The can in his hand began to buckle as his fingers tightened around it. With a curse he threw it into the sink, wincing at the discordant sound. The last few mouthfuls of beer gurgled out and ran down the drain.

  ‘Son?’

  He spun around to find Neill standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on the frame.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘I heard voices.’

  ‘Laura came. You were asleep and we didn’t want to wake you. Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, just makes me want to piss. I’ll go back to bed.’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Jake said and for the first time his father didn’t protest, didn’t push his hand away as he guided him back to bed, helping him into the toilet on the way.