by Barbara Ebel
The man at the desk proved to be the official judge. He considered and calculated each dog’s physical attributes and charm and stepped forward when they sat down in a line. Without showing any favoritism, he finished and spoke with the friendly lady. She announced the winners in reverse order. The winner was a yellow Labrador retriever.
“What grand dogs,” Nell said to Bob. “Aren’t you glad I found out about this event? I can’t think of a better way to spend the day away from medicine. We need to do things like this more often.” Bob wore shorts, so she tapped his bare knee and flashed a smile.
“I’m curious about the herding breeds,” Bob said, leaning more towards Annabel. “We can compare Oliver to pure-bred Australian Shepherds.”
“Exactly. They’re the fourth group.” Annabel patted her hands together like an excited little kid.
The competition hosted the non-sporting and working breeds next and then the lady announced the herding group. Collies, regal German Shepherds, alert little Welsh Corgis, and Australian Shepherds came forward. “Those Aussies are handsome,” Bob whispered to Annabel, “but not as gorgeous as our Oliver.”
Annabel poked him. “We’re a little bit prejudiced, don’t you think?”
“Ha, you’re right.” Bob picked up the brush from between them. “I’ll start de-strawing him and we’ll touch up his coat again before they call his group.” Bob leaned forward and brushed and brushed. The straw clung to Oliver like he was born with it.
In front of them, the judge had made his decision and they called the four winners again in reverse order. “And first place goes to Ripley, the Border Collie.” The black dog with white markings cocked his head at his name and, for an amateurs’ show, seemed to understand everything going on and what to expect.
Annabel’s nervousness ramped up as the toy breeds and their handlers showed themselves off. A toy poodle with a giant attitude won first place.
Annabel stood up and pinned the paper with her entry number on her shirt. For the last time, she plucked the last stray pieces of straw off Oliver’s neck.
“Next up are the mixed breeds,” came the announcement.
“All the best to both of you,” Dustin said.
“Knock ‘em dead, you two,” Bob said and patted Oliver’s head. “Go strut your stuff.”
Annabel started off with Oliver to her left, and since she was at the front, she led the pack as everyone else folded in behind her. She walked a quick pace around the side and straight past the judge and tables. The line behind her was longer than any of the previous categories. Handsome mixed dogs trotted along. One strutted hind legs like a German shepherd but had a face like a Corgi; another had a tail like an American Husky but a coat like an Irish Setter. As she closed in on the tail end of the line, it became one confluent circle of at least twenty dogs.
She made a full stop and became the first one to begin the stationary line-up. Oliver sat down without any prompting and they waited. The man came forward. He didn’t give Annabel the time of day, but glued his eyes on Oliver and every dog next in line.
He spoke with the woman and she stepped forward. “Fourth place …”
Annabel held her breath, but the woman called someone else and presented them with their prize of a ribbon. She repeated the process and gave out another ribbon.
Phew, Annabel thought. The experience had been a blast but, for sure, they had not been serious about winning. The woman called second place and sure enough, Oliver didn’t win. Annabel turned towards the bench where Bob, Dustin, and Nell watched, and she shrugged her shoulders and readied herself in her mind to walk over.
“And first place in the mixed breeds goes to number one hundred and thirty-one, Oliver with Annabel Tilson.”
Annabel’s jaw dropped and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. She was more shocked than if she scored higher than Stuart Schneider on a medical rotation test. Looking at the red-hatted lady, she pointed to herself. The woman nodded and waved her over. Applause ensued and she realized Oliver deserved the attention.
“You did it, boy!”
Oliver’s happy face glanced up at her. The woman handed her the first-place prizes, a step up from second through fourth place. She placed a tall trophy in her hands with a metal dog statue on top, a blue ribbon, and five dollars.
“Thank you,” Annabel said with as much pride as when she’d received her letter of acceptance to medical school.
At the bench, Bob locked eyes with Annabel. “We did it,” he said as they gave each other a spontaneous hug. Then they both crouched down and loved on Oliver.
Dustin and Nell stole a glance at each other and Annabel stood back up.
“Congrats,” Dustin said.
“Oliver deserved it!” She lowered her voice and nodded towards the ring. “I guess I better keep it down.” The woman began announcing the novelty class for ducks, rabbits, and other less common pets. The lady nearby plucked her bunny out of the carriage.
“Is Oliver going to treat us to some junk food with the money he just won?” Nell asked.
“Ha,” Bob said. “I think Annabel and I should put it towards his college education.”
They sat petting Oliver while the novelty class and cat breed contest took place and the event officially finished. Dogs sniffed each other and tails wagged as everyone departed the pavilion.
“How about grabbing some food and strolling around for a while?” Annabel asked, addressing them all. They came to the asphalt path with a plethora of makeshift buildings and food vendors.
“Sounds good to me,” Bob said.
“I could use a bite,” Nell said, narrowing the space between her and Bob.
Annabel paused and turned to Dustin. His hair was not as curly as usual and the dimple in his chin was not highlighted above with his usual warm smile.
“What do you think?” Annabel asked.
Dustin turned sideways to talk to her. “Like you were last night, I’m overdue, overtired, and stressed from several days of working a late shift and not making up enough sleep during the day. Being out and about any more today is not a good idea for me. Sorry to say, but I’m backing out of any more adventure. I’m glad the three of you won. I’m sure Bob can take you home in his car.”
Annabel stood motionless, stunned by his words. What he just said didn’t fit the occasion. His words were like clouds raining over a child’s birthday party. Her birthday party.
Dustin placed his hand on her arm for a moment, like reassuring her that she would be fine. Even if she knew what to say to him, she didn’t have the opportunity. He stepped away, headed towards the entrance they came in before, and was gone.
-----
“Should I order one that we can all share?” Bob’s eyes studied a funnel cake stand and Nell answered.
“We can split one ourselves. Maybe Annabel and Dustin want something else.”
Bob turned to Annabel for her response. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and a concerned expression had replaced her happiness. “Hey, our Oliver just won the top dog prize.” He peeked behind and to both sides of her. “Where’s Dustin?”
“He took off. He’s been working too hard. Can you drop me off at my place on your way home?”
“Not a problem. Is everything okay?”
She hesitated. “As far as I know.”
“Can I buy you a funnel cake?”
“I’ll skip and eat a chicken kabob instead.”
“I hope you give Oliver a morsel. He would love that.”
She petted Oliver’s forehead and his tail spun around in a circle. Not resisting his happy face, she crouched down and gave him a hug. After downing a few fast food items and checking out two exhibits, they made their way to Bob’s car.
During the drive, Nell chatted away, but Bob glanced in the rearview mirror as much as he could. Annabel was not chipper like before the dog show, nor was she still excited about their win. He stopped the car next to her apartment and turned around. “If it’s not a problem, I could leave Ol
iver with you today. After all, you and he had a special day.”
“A deal is a deal. He stays with you today.”
“Then for sure, take his trophy, his ribbon, and his five-dollar bill to display in your apartment.”
“I can do that.” She slid the items into her canvas bag and exited the car.
-----
Annabel hung Oliver’s blue ribbon on his trophy and placed them on the windowsill behind her desk. She stuffed his five dollars into an empty cookie jar. She had the rest of the day to contend with, with plenty of time to study. Even better, she was well rested and ready to absorb pediatric subjects she had not yet studied.
After kicking off her shoes and getting an iced tea, Annabel folded a leg under her and got comfortable on her desk chair. She first tackled salmonella food poisoning, for which the literature fiercely recommended frequent hand-washing practices for children, particularly at group functions and public places. Then she turned to head trauma, an awful subject to think about in the pediatric population. At least she had a fine grasp of that area, such as subdural hematomas, because of her neurosurgeon father who, over the years, told the family a thing or two about head injuries and intracranial pressure.
Several hours ticked by. Her glass was empty and she stretched her legs. That was solid studying this afternoon, she thought, and she pulled it off not by happenstance. She had deliberately pushed Dustin to the back of her mind because something was just not right with him. Winning the mixed breed event with Oliver and Bob was special to her, but Dustin seemed to be an uninvolved spectator and barely acted like they were boyfriend and girlfriend.
And he left in a strange way.
Annabel rose and padded to the kitchen. She glanced at her iPhone to find no messages. She perched herself on a stool and peeled a banana. What was she thinking? If she were in his shoes, she’d be annoyed at her too. She didn’t mean to fall asleep early last night, but the way it all evolved was not right. She did care about him and needed to take credit for being inconsiderate, maybe even flippant, about acknowledging his side of the issue. He was a good man; underneath it all, she had a deep sense, an enlightenment, that she’d done him wrong by not contacting him back. In her defense, however, she felt he was taking her bad social behavior much more critically than what it deserved. Over the course of the next few days, she figured she would know by his actions, or lack of actions, one way or another.
-----
Although Linnell made innuendos to Bob that they spend more time together the rest of the day, Bob dropped her off at her place. He wanted time to study and wanted to appreciate a few dog walks and bonding with Oliver.
After he pulled into his apartment complex, he half trotted on a walk with Oliver. The last twenty-four hours were so eventful, his blood acted like it had been spit through a purifier and sent happy hormones to his brain. When they burst into his apartment, he gave Oliver a new rawhide bone for his win and then studied for a few hours. As he grew tired early after having no nap, he nonetheless began a preliminary search for orthopedic residencies.
Then it dawned on him. He and Annabel might sustain a long-term friendship, but with different residency programs in different cities or entire opposite ends of the country, that would more than likely terminate his hope to get together with her. He might always love her, but any chance of them getting hitched as boyfriend and girlfriend in the near future would die and be buried.
He realized starting a residency somewhere would mean the end of seeing her on a regular basis. He admonished himself for the next selfish thought. When she left for a residency program, that would more than likely end her present relationship with Dustin Lowe. He was sure that would not be to her and the policeman’s liking.
In essence, both men would most likely lose her for good.
CHAPTER 16
Sunday morning, Bob got up extra early, put on a pair of trousers and a shirt, and enthusiastically gave Oliver a walk. He only needed to go into the hospital for morning rounds because the on-call team for the day would cover all pediatric patients for the rest of the day after each team made their own rounds.
The apartment complex was quiet with only one other dog walker, and Oliver made his mark on shrubs and trees before Bob went back inside and fed him.
“You mind the apartment, Oliver. I’ll see you later.”
He made his exit and individually saw each of his patients on the pediatric ward, leaving his consult for last. He liked to leave extra time for Toby; he hated for the youth to be strapped with his flu-like symptoms while he was nursing a leg fracture and a cast. Any eleven-year-old kid concerned about not starting back to school on time had his attention and respect. Bob thought back to that age, at which time he was in no way conscientious. In fact, he remembered, once in a while, he faked symptoms to his mother to avoid going to school.
Bob stopped first at the nurses’ station and read all the orthopedic and nurses’ notes on Toby’s chart since yesterday morning when he left post-call. The ortho team mainly reported on their patient’s orthopedic progress and slow going with physical therapy. The nurses’ notes were dotted with additions of “still complaining of a headache and Tylenol given,” and “Phenergan was ordered for nausea and vomiting.”
A nurse passed him and noticed him with Toby’s chart. “You pediatricians need to do something about him.”
Bob frowned and nodded. “You know how medical care slows down on the weekend, but I’ll see to it.”
She smiled and added a big “thank you.”
Bob entered Toby’s room and opened the blinds to halfway. The morning light aimed at the floor and made the room less dreary.
Toby’s arm moved to the edge of the bed and he groaned. “Don’t open them any more. The light is bothering my eyes.”
“Good morning, young man.” Bob tweaked the blinds a little less open.
“Dr. Palmer, I’m glad someone came to visit me.”
“Nurses were in during the night, Toby.”
“That doesn’t count. I was asleep. Now it really matters because my neck aches.”
Bob glanced at the new set of vital signs on the bedside chart and, although Toby still had a low-grade fever, he figured it was dampened by the Tylenol he was getting for his aches and pains.
“What do you mean, you have a neck ache?”
Toby used his hands to scoot up, trailing his casted leg with him. He turned his head from side to side. “My neck is stiff as a board. Aren’t old people the only ones who get stiff necks from sleeping funny?”
Bob stepped over. “I wish there was some truth to that, Toby. How about a headache? Is it still there?”
“Yeah, but they keep giving me pain and headache medicine. My muscles ache too.”
“Did you eat anything last night?”
Toby started to shake his head but grimaced. “No. The nurse told me at least I was getting something to drink in my IV.”
After examining him, he assured Toby the team would stop by, and scurried to the office, where his teammates had assembled.
“I just told everyone your dog won yesterday,” Nell said.
“Great job,” Dr. Mares said. “I’m proud of the way you two spent some time out of the hospital. Of course, give your dog an extra biscuit for his accomplishment.”
“I certainly will.”
“Let’s huddle around the table and run through our patients’ lists and then do quick bedside visits. Afterwards, students are ordered to go home and study.” Rick cracked a smile.
The chief resident listened to each student report on their patients as they drained a pot of coffee. As the last order of business, Rick asked, “What about our consult, Bob?”
“Toby Owens’ vital signs have statistically not changed. Since yesterday, he continues to have nausea, little vomiting, muscle aches, a headache, and now a stiff neck.”
“A stiff neck?” Bob had Rick’s undivided attention.
“Yes. I may be a medical student with a lot to lear
n, Dr. Mares, but these symptoms are screaming out to me that Toby may have meningitis.”
“A smart presumptive diagnosis, Dr. Palmer. What would be the next step?”
“A lumbar puncture.”
“You need to finish your train of thought. Why?”
“To take a sample of the fluid that surrounds the brain and analyze it to confirm our suspicions.”
“The fluid may or may not be diagnostic of the type of meningitis, if he does indeed have it, but it is absolutely needed for diagnosis. Also, his other lab work has proved not to be enlightening.
“All right, then. Are you all tanked up with enough coffee?”
All four students rose and nodded. They would skip more coffee if it meant rounding and going home sooner.
At the nurses’ station, the students rounded up their patients’ charts. Bob finished quickly and decided to text Annabel. Even if she wasn’t up yet, she’d get his text later in the morning.
“Good morning, dog winner. Guess what? Toby Owens may have meningitis. We may do a lumbar puncture on him.”
As they walked to the far end of the hallway, his phone flashed a return message. “Darn. Poor kid. Would your chief resident mind if I was there too?”
“Are you crazy? On a day off?”
“Not crazy. I’ve been following him from the beginning. It makes sense and I’m interested.”
“Anybody ever tell you how dedicated you are?”
“You just did.”
Bob texted an emoji smile. “If we’re going to do the spinal tap, I’ll ask Rick.”
Annabel countered with a happy emoji as well and waited. She was up and going through her second cup of hazelnut coffee. Bob’s Keurig machine present to her continued to be used daily.
At last the team stood in Bob’s patient’s room and, after evaluating him, Rick said, “I’m giving your mom and dad a call, Toby. We would like to do a procedure, one which may give us important information and be diagnostic.”