Carol Marinelli - The Pregnant Intern

It was Alice’s job to clerk the patients, which involved taking a full medical history. From there she would order any test she thought necessary prior to the patient’s admission, such as ECGs and blood tests. Then the consultant would review the patient and agree or disagree with the intern’s suggestions, invariably adding or removing a test. At this point, Jeremy explained, he would like her to be present.

‘There’s not much point otherwise. At least we can both explain our thought processes behind the pre-op work-ups. The down side is it means we won’t be out of here much before six.’ He gave her a sideways look. ‘Or maybe even seven. Is that a problem?’

Alice shook her head. ‘Sounds fine to me.’

And so they battled away. Alice took excellent histories. Somehow she managed to get the patients to open up—maybe because she gave a bit of herself back. But under her steady, unaccusing gaze the ‘occasional smoker’ would admit to a twenty a day habit and even the ‘social drinker’ admitted to a few cans mid-week. She took Jeremy’s advice, though, and somehow by remembering that it was she that was holding the consultation she managed to avoid some of the more embarrassing questions that, until now, patients had assumed it was their right to ask. Not that she wasn’t personable and friendly, but Marcus’s rejection and her current circumstances were something Alice was having difficulty dealing with herself without the constant, however well meaning, advice from strangers.

Jeremy, on the other hand, seemed to be taking his own advice to the extreme. He was courteous, friendly even, yet he gave nothing away about himself. Every personal comment, every attempt by a patient to make small talk was immediately and skilfully rebuffed. So skilfully, in fact, that it took Alice the full afternoon to realise he never spoke about himself other than with reference to his work.

Jeremy didn’t seem remotely bothered by her apparent slowness. In fact, by the time the last patient had been seen and the clock was edging towards seven, he seemed more than happy to prolong the evening with a chat.

‘That’s the last, Mr Foster.’

The young nurse popped her head around the door and Alice noticed her looking pointedly at her watch.

‘Thanks, Emily, you did a great job today. I’m sorry we’ve made you so late. And, by the way, it’s Jeremy.’

Instantly the bitter expression melted.

‘No problem.’ Emily paused. ‘Jeremy. It’s nice to have you back.’

That man could get away with murder, Alice thought. Why, even the most respected consultant wouldn’t be left in doubt of the nurse’s wrath if he let the clinic run more than two hours over, but for some reason Jeremy could get away with it. The nurses had been just as forgiving as the patients.

‘I’d just like to run a couple of things by you before you go,’ Jeremy said, interrupting her thoughts.

‘OK.’ Putting the pile of notes she had completed into the in-tray, Alice took a seat at his desk.

‘You’re sure?’ Jeremy checked. ‘You haven’t got a babysitter you’ve got to get back to or anything?’

‘I don’t have to worry about that for a few months yet.’

‘And if Mrs Marshall’s observations were correct, I can assume you don’t have a husband or partner wanting his dinner on the table?’

Alice swallowed nervously. She had known it would only be a matter of time before he asked. ‘Another thing I don’t have to worry about.’

‘Good.’

Alice looked up sharply. ‘Is it?’

Jeremy gave her a brief smile. ‘For me it is. Look, Alice, you’ve heard the gossip. I’m a has-been, I’m coming back too soon, I’m half the surgeon I used to be, and all that.’

Alice flushed. ‘I’ve heard nothing of the sort,’ she lied.

‘Bull.’

His expletive hit the mark. ‘Well, maybe a few remarks,’ she admitted. ‘But you know what this place is like. Once you’ve been back for a couple of weeks you’ll soon put them right. Anyway,’ she added somewhat more forcefully, ‘what on earth has any of this to do with my marital status?’

‘Everything and nothing. You know how politically correct everything is these days, Alice. Apparently, I’m not supposed to notice the obvious fact that you’re pregnant. And even if it’s brought to my attention I’m not supposed to let it affect my judgement of you in any way. Even by having this conversation, effectively you could run off to the anti-discrimination council and have me up to my neck in hot water.’

Alice was totally confused. ‘Why would I?’

‘Because, as I said, your rather large bump supposedly shouldn’t affect my judgement of you in the slightest.’

‘And does it?’ Alice asked boldly.

Jeremy stared at her for an age. Her heavy dark hair was too much for the loose scrunchy she was wearing and was slipping from its grasp, and dark grey eyes were staring up at him as if waiting for his judgement. For a second he lost his train of thought, but only for a second. His eyes flicked downwards again, and came to rest on the soft yet firm swell of her stomach.

‘Yes,’ he answered simply. ‘Yes, it does.’

‘But why? Just because I’m pregnant, it doesn’t make me any less a doctor.’

Jeremy put his hands up. Tanned, manicured, long-fingered hands, Alice noticed...surgeon’s hands. ‘I never meant—’

But Alice interrupted him, jumping to her feet. Suddenly she felt threatened. Maybe he was about to say he didn’t want her on his team, would never have agreed to it had he been in on the interview. All she knew was that it was imperative he let her stay. ‘Being pregnant makes me a better doctor. I now know what it’s like to lie on an examining couch and be prodded and poked. I know how it feels to be vulnerable, to be a number in the system.’

‘Whoa.’ Jeremy gestured for her to sit down.

Furious with herself for reacting so violently, Alice meekly did as she was told. Not trusting herself to speak, she looked up at him.

Jeremy cleared his throat before speaking. ‘Firstly, I have absolutely no doubt you’re a fine doctor. Your references are exemplary, and from what I’ve seen today you merit every word that was written. Secondly, I’m sure you really are a better doctor for being on the receiving end of the health system. I know without a shadow of doubt that I am, or at least I hope I will be. Take Mrs Marshall today. Normally I’d have dropped her pethidine down even further, and I’m not proud of that fact. But, having been in pain myself, I now recognise it all the more.’ He stopped talking and for a moment Alice thought he had forgotten she was even there.

‘And thirdly,’ she prompted. ‘I assume there’s more?’

Jeremy snapped back to attention, a wry smile touching the edge of his lips. ‘I’m not an obstetrician, and with good reason.’

Alice’s eyebrows shot up in a questioning look.

‘Heaven knows, they make enough money.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Alice grumbled, thinking of the invoice from Brett Halliday sitting in her bedside drawer amongst the other pile of unpaid bills.

‘What I’m trying to say,’ Jeremy continued, ‘albeit not very well, is that pregnant women terrify me.’

Alice started to laugh, then stifled her giggle as she realised he wasn’t joking.

‘You’re not serious?’

Jeremy nodded. ‘Deadly serious. I mean, see it from my angle. If I bawl you out, are you going to burst into tears or, worse, will I induce premature labour? If I keep you behind in a clinic or call you into Theatre at midnight, am I going to do irreparable damage to the baby?’

Alice really was laughing now. ‘Jeremy, I’m not a doll. I’m not some precious Ming vase that’s about to shatter, for heaven’s sake. I’m pregnant, that’s all. Women have been managing it throughout time, in fact.’