“Have his mother call please,” he called after the moving vehicle.
She waved and backed her vehicle away.
“HOW ARE YOU DOING, CHAMP?” the doctor asked as he smiled.
“Oh-oh-okay,” Davey coughed.
“You’ve had a busy few months,” commented Dr. Stuart. He smiled again and looked between Davey’s folder and Melanie
“Yeah,” said Davey.
“Looks like you were doing some work with Dr. Chisholm? I’m not sure I have all the records here; it looks like there was supposed to be some follow-on work?”
Melanie crossed her arms, wiped her mouth, and then cupped her chin in her hand. With her head tilted down, she looked up at Dr. Stuart from a veil of hair. “Yes—we did a lot of tests. Nothing ever came of it. He didn’t figure out anything. It’s not in his file?”
“Okay, Champ,” said Dr. Stuart. “We’re going to leave you alone for a minute. I’ve got some papers I need Mom to look at down the hall.”
“I’ll send Paul in,” Melanie said to her son and then kissed him on the forehead.
Dr. Stuart held the door open for her and ushered her through.
“Thanks again,” Melanie said to Sophie, who waited with Paul in the hall. “I’ve got to talk to Dr. Stuart for a few minutes, would you two go keep Davey company for me?”
“Sure, Melanie,” said Sophie, “anything. But would you like me to come with you? I know it can be hard to process everything the doctor says. Not to say you won’t be easy to understand,” she quickly amended, placing a hand on Dr. Stuart’s forearm.
“Thank you,” said Melanie, “I’ll be fine though. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Sophie flashed a big sympathetic smile and then herded Paul into Davey’s room. When the door shut, Dr. Stuart walked Melanie down the hall.
“I think you’ve got a fan,” said Melanie.
“I won’t let it go to my head,” replied Dr. Stuart. He pointed Melanie towards a small, empty waiting room.
“So,” he began once the door shut, “I’ve read the file, but why don’t you tell me what’s been going on.”
“Well,” Melanie brushed her hair back from her face, “things started a few months ago. I was worried about Davey’s clumsiness, so I took him to Dr. Chisholm.”
“Clumsiness?” asked Dr. Stuart.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “They call it ‘situational clumsiness,’ and they ruled out that developmental thing.”
“Dyspraxia?” Dr. Stuart offered.
“Yes, that’s it,” she continued. “The thing is, it only seems to happen sometimes. He’s great at sports and things, but sometimes you wonder how he makes it across the room. His body is always covered in bruises, as you can see. And today—this is the first time he’s ever been in the hospital because of it.”
“Well,” said Dr. Stuart, “I’m not entirely sure that his pneumothorax, the lung problem he’s having, was entirely caused by the fall he described.”
“Oh no,” Melanie’s shoulders slumped. “What is it?”
“I can’t be sure yet,” said the doctor, holding up the palm of his hand, “but there is a congenital disorder we need to rule out. It’s called Marfan syndrome, and it can sometimes cause pneumothorax.”
Melanie bent her head and cradled her forehead in her hand.
“But this brings me back to his history. Tell me about the tests Chisholm ran.”
Melanie looked up at Dr. Stuart and blinked tears back from the corners of her eyes. She shook her head and sighed. “He was very odd about it all. I don’t know what he was trying to prove or figure out. Poor Davey couldn’t take all those examinations.”
“We need to do everything we can to diagnose him, Ms. Hunter. The sooner we find problems, the easier they are to deal with,” prompted Dr. Stuart.
“I know, I know,” said Melanie. A tear leaked from her eye and she wiped it away as she tilted her head to the side. “It’s just that he was so creepy,” she said.
“Who’s that?”
“Dr. Chisholm,” she admitted. “He seemed so interested in Davey’s early puberty. It was so uncomfortable—I was so uncomfortable and Davey was too, I could see it in his eyes when Dr. Chisholm was examining him.” She used her fingers to make air quotes while she said “examining.”
Dr. Stuart pinched his mouth into a thin horizontal line and looked down at the chart.
“I should tell you,” said Dr. Stuart, “that I consider Dr. Chisholm to be a brilliant doctor, and an unparalleled diagnostician.”
“Yeah,” Melanie said as she squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s what everyone says." She shook her head with resignation.
“Hold on,” Dr. Stuart jumped in, “I should also tell you—he was my doctor when I was a kid, and if I had a son, I would never take him to Dr. Chisholm.”
Melanie looked up and studied the doctor’s moist eyes.
Dr. Stuart looked away first and took his gaze out the window. “Actually,” he said, “I shouldn’t have told you that at all.” He smiled. “I mean, I have no evidence, and he never really did anything out of the ordinary. Nothing that any doctor wouldn’t do when examining a child. It’s just that he somehow made the whole thing seem wrong.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“How about we not talk about unsupportable allegations that will get me fired and ruin my not-so-young and mostly promising career?”
Melanie chuckled at first and then broke into a sincere laugh in spite of the reason for their conversation. Dr. Stuart smiled while she laughed. By the time her laughter had died away, her eyes resumed leaking. She dabbed at them with a tissue, pulled from her pocket.
“Okay,” she said. “So what is it?”
“Short answer: don’t know,” he admitted. “But we’ve fixed the pneumothorax. He had air outside of his lung, and that was causing his trouble breathing. The blood was from the pressure in his chest cavity; it forced some blood through the vessels in his right lung. I’d like to see him stay overnight for observation, and then a week at home to minimize his activity.”
“Okay,” Melanie sighed.
“And I really want to get these follow-up tests done,” he tapped the clipboard. “I’m not big on poaching patients, but if you’d like, I’ll supervise the process going forward.”
“Oh would you?” Melanie exhaled, relieved. “That would be wonderful.”
“No problem,” said Dr. Stuart. “I’ll check in with Davey at noon tomorrow, and we’ll talk about getting him home. In the meantime, you should be able to get these filled anywhere, but this one I will call ahead to wherever you prefer.” He handed her two prescriptions, and then the third.
WHILE MELANIE MET WITH THE DOCTOR, Sophie read a book from her purse while Davey and Paul watched TV.
“Excuse me, Ms. Murphy?” Davey muted the TV during a commercial.
Sophie closed her paperback on her finger and looked up. “What’s up?”
“Do you think you could call the nurse for me?” asked Davey. “I have to go.”
“Go? Oh!” she said, standing. “Come on Paul, let’s give Davey some privacy for a second.”
“Can we go to the snack room?” asked Paul.
“Sure,” said Sophie. “Can we get you anything?”
“No thanks,” said Davey, crossing his legs under his sheet.
“Okay, we’re going. Come on Paul.”
They shut the door behind themselves and Davey watched the muted TV and tried not to think about how much he had to go. When the nurse pushed through the door he thought he was going to burst.
“Which is it hon? Number one or number two?” she asked, crossing to the bathroom.