It didn’t really matter to her one way or the other. Some places she went for a weekend, some for a week, depending on the circumstances. There were still a number of guys out there trying to hang on to solo practices. When they went on vacation, they needed someone to cover them. There were some guys in small communities who just couldn’t get partners or other orthopedists to take care of their patients while they were out. More recently, there was a growing need for orthopedic surgeons to cover emergency room call in larger cities where the local docs couldn’t tolerate the load on their practices or just didn’t want the liability. The hospitals were forced to try to recruit surgeons to come build a practice in their community, basically paying them to use the hospital and cover call in the ER. When that failed, hire a locum tenens doc. Agencies had developed to provide these doctors. It worked for Leslie. No commitments. No extended stays. No relationships.
This assignment was a little different. A month was a long time for her. Can’t let things get too complicated. This was enough time to get complicated if she wasn’t careful. Get to know people and they ask you for email addresses. They want something from you. They want to give you something. Extended weekend assignments were the best.
“So basically you’ll be taking over his practice and let me tell you Ozzy Osbourne could be taking over his practice and the patients would go for it. Whatever is good with Doc Hawley is good with them. Occasionally some will see the other orthopods in town, but not many. It never makes a dent in his business.”
“But he’s never been out like this before.”
“Sure, but nobody’s gonna leave him now, not with the cancer and all. Besides Brenda is still there and she’s part of the deal. Knows all his patients. Probably could treat them herself if it were legal. Doc’s plan is to come to the office whenever he can, even if it’s just to sit around.”
“That’ll be interesting.”
“Well, that’s pretty much it in a nutshell. Probably more than you want to know, but it’s kind of an odd case. You probably thought someone was just going on an African safari or something.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Leslie signaled the waitress for a refill on her coffee.
“So what’s the schedule?”
“Okay, so Doc is doing cases this week and trust me, they’re lining up like there’s no tomorrow. And they know you’ll be following them, taking out their stitches and stuff. He’s going to spend the rest of this week getting you up to speed and then next Monday, he’s having his own surgery in Lubbock.”
“Surely there are guys here in town that can do his surgery.”
“Yea, but Doc doesn’t want anyone here messing with his hind end business.” Terryl nodded his head up and down. “So, then you’re on your own.”
She laughed, thinking about Doc Hawley’s hind end business, but also remembering YOYO, you’re-on-your-own. When she was a resident, one of her chief residents would say YOYO when walking out of a difficult patient’s room. That was followed by the development of a litany of acronyms such as AMF (adios mother fucker), saved for only the most egregious of patients, and BYE, which simply meant – bye. That kind of irreverent disrespect was left behind in residency, where sick humor was sometimes the only way to make the hard work tolerable. Of course, no patient was ever witness to these outbursts. A good laugh went a long way in the middle of the night. And what better source of sick humor than the human condition. She hadn’t thought of YOYO in a long time.
“Yeah, it’s kind of funny, but it’s typical Doc Hawley. So after he recovers in Lubbock he’ll be back to help you out, even if just in spirit. I think you’ll be fine and probably enjoy it. Doc’s got a great staff. Efficient, nice to patients, they know all the rules, and they’ll do all the coding and paperwork for you.”
“Nice.” Coding and paperwork she could definitely do without.
They ordered. She got a western omelet, the edges of which were slightly crispy. It came with grits and salsa, two biscuits. They talked about hospital policies, the status of her hospital privileges, orthopedic emergency room call. She put real butter on a biscuit. It melted in her mouth. Terryl Wells’ southern accent and affability were appealing. He finally finished his fourth cup of coffee, she, her second, and they were ready to go.
“Are you ready to go tour the hospital, or do you want to wait until tomorrow? Doc is operating all day today. I wanted you to get a chance to meet him before we get together tonight, but if you’ve got stuff to do…”
“I really need to get this accident stuff in order. I’ve got to contact my insurance company and wait for my new rental. It should be here this afternoon.”
“Why don’t you call me after you get all that taken care of and we’ll go see if we can catch up with Doc.” He handed her his card. She saw he was the GEO of the hospital. In a place like this, he might do just about everything there was to do at the Taylor County Regional Hospital. Hiring, firing, coordinating peer review and making sure there was toilet paper stocked in the restrooms.
“Then I guess tonight Brenda’s invited you to dinner, if you feel up to going. My wife, Selma, and I will be coming. Brenda can coo-ook.” A two syllable word meant it must be good. “You know, in all the time I’ve been here, they’ve never sent us a female locums. Ought to be interesting.”
She thought of a female locums. She wondered if it had eight legs and an exoskeleton, and a pussy. Shi-it.
“Okay, I’ll call you. Then you can tell me where to meet you.” They shook hands. Terryl paid the bill and she walked back to the hotel.
Behind the desk was a tiny Indian woman wearing a bright pink, Americanized version of the sari. Kala.
“Good morning, Dr. Cohen. Was everything good in your room last night?”
“Just fine thank you…Kala?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Kala, I’m expecting delivery of a rental car this afternoon. I’ll be in my room if they call.”
“Very good, thank you.”
Leslie finished her calls regarding the accident. There were no surprises. Apparently her account of the accident was in line with Regan’s story and so there were no glitches. No need for further investigation. No tickets given. She had always wondered if the extra insurance she signed up for every other time would really pay off and indeed it had. Her agent said she was totally covered and thanked her for it. Leslie thought, so now you know.
The new rental, a light blue Ford Taurus, was delivered that afternoon and she was in business. She did not like accepting rides from people. Too much time for talking without distractions. No way to leave. She didn’t like to depend on people. Leslie scanned the outside of the Taurus, then signed the form that said everything was okay and the car had a full tank of gas. She always rented the basic mid-sized car, usually a Taurus. She found that any other car was associated with some kind of preconceived notion about her personality, whether it be sporty, well-to-do or family plan depending on if she rented SUVs, foreign cars or vans. Renting a Taurus was neutral, no preconceptions. Just a rented car. No Jaguars or Hummers even when there was a promotional rental price on them. She didn’t want people to know she had lots of money.
Leslie had a successful orthopedic practice in New York prior to the accident. Chris had stock options from his company and a large pension. They owned a big house in New Paltz and a desirable bungalow on the coast in Maine. After the accident, she made her plans and sold everything. Even had an estate sale at the house and all their things were sold off to strangers and antique dealers. Anything that didn’t sell was given to the Salvation Army. She kept her rings and the two little silver boxes containing her children’s first cut locks of hair. She put all her photo albums, film, letters and mementos in a temperature controlled storage unit on the outskirts of New Paltz. She left town. An automatic draw from her bank paid for the storage forever, or at least for the rest of her life. After that,