No More Doctor Nice Guy Part 19 free porn video

No More Doctor Nice Guy Part 19 "Kristi!" I'm not sure what message my exclamation was trying to convey. I guess all the surprise, concern and befuddlement I was experiencing mixed into one. She replies in jilted fashion. Reflecting the combination of her pain and distress. "Alex! It's too soon!" is her mournful cry. "How many weeks are you?" I had a fair idea but it was all I could think to say. I try to present an air of calm but I'm shaken. The way I love and care for her has not faded at all with the passing of time and her general indifference towards me. So seeing her like this threatened to overwhelm me. "Not even 31." She winces with the words. Maybe it hurt to talk. Maybe because it quantified the aberrance and therefore the danger. "What happened?" Which was a stupid question. It was pretty obvious what's happened. "I was asleep. And my water just broke and I started contracting. I knew I had to come in but they started coming so hard and fast I nearly crashed whilst driving." She drove? "Where's Marty?" was my reflex query. But was I supposed to know Marty? "He's visiting his parents in Sydney. We just weren't expecting..... this." She looks as if she's about to crumble. I knew her well enough to be certain of it. I was no longer operating on a level where I could consider what was socially appropriate in this scenario for the person I was now and the relationship we had. My friend was in a lot of pain and frightened out of her wits. I slid up onto the trolley beside her and wrapped myself around her, pregnant belly not withstanding. She grasped me tightly around my middle and pulled me close. She clearly needed someone. Our heads were pressed together and my mouth was close to her ear. "It'll be okay," I whisper. I have to believe it will. "It is early but not too early," I try to reassure. "We've got people in the hospital who are trained for this you know." She did if course. And by which I specifically meant people other than me. Which she also would have known. I would hope that provided her a degree of relief to know that she wouldn't have to rely on someone she was not particularly fond of, in spite of our hug. I pull away from Kristi and stand up. I don't want to cross any more boundaries than I have already and I need to act decisively. "Jenna." I address her for some task orientation. "Shall we call obstetrics and paediatrics? Let's get them down here to look after Kristi." Jenna looks wracked. "They've just started an emergency Caesar. They'll be at least an hour." Oh great! I don't know why I'm even surprised. "Someone from Mid then?" By which I meant the O&G ward, where the midwives were to be found. "I checked there too. They've got no one spare. They have their own women in labor." It seemed like Jenna has covered all bases, and I was once again last choice. Rightly so maybe. I haven't delivered a baby since I was a medical student. And that was under close scrutiny. But it occurs to me that if I'm smart enough I still shouldn't have to. "Okay," I announce to both Kristi and Jenna and all present. "This is the plan." Which gave me about two seconds to think of one. "Were going to start some tocolytics." I blunder forward. "Magnesium, Ventolin, even a Calcium Blocker. This will buy some time. If we can slow your labor down a bit it will allow help to arrive. Is Marty getting a flight?" "The airport's shut," Kristi laments. "He's trying to get the first flight of the morning. But he still won't be here before 8." That was still 4 hours away. I wasn't sure the baby would still be inside. Even in spite of my efforts. Kristi's studying my face. "It doesn't matter Alex. As long as the baby's okay." She's clearly read my mind. "Right. I'm going to give you a corticosteroid injection Kristi." I continue my vocalised plan. "To help mature the baby's lungs. It may not have time to work but we can only try." What I really needed was a CTG machine to monitor the baby's heart. And someone who knew how to use it. Which wasn't me. The lack of available Obstetric staff precluded that. I didn't dare indicate to Kristi but I hadn't yet definitively determined whether her baby was still alive. Once again though I felt confident it was. I would feel it if it wasn't. It took Jenna and I a few minutes to calculate and draw up the drugs we wanted. We were familiar with them for their myriad of other uses, but for this indication we had a degree of dosage uncertainty. It gave me time to subtly estimate the frequency of Kristi's contractions; and I suppose from a subjective viewpoint, the severity of them. I learnt that they were both intense and near sequential. I needed more answers; and quickly. I grabbed the bedside ultrasound. I wasn't trained in its use let alone certified in it. All I was going on was the one time Javed had shown me how to use it to find veins on someone who was a difficult stick. (Hard to get blood from.) "Kristi," I explained. "I'm no ultrasonographer, but I'm just going to find out which way is up and then use it as a fetal Doppler to check baby's heart." I recalled we were taught at Med school to be able to feel the 'lie' of the baby and whether the head was 'engaged' in the pelvis (and ready for delivery) just by using our hands. So called clinical examination skills. But if I tried that right now I'd just be poking blindly on Kristi's abdomen and looking like a bit of a dick. So even though the quality of my ultrasound pictures may be the equivalent of looking at a black cat on a dark night - it was surely better than that, and would give me at least some idea. There was that brief awful moment where I stumbled around on baby parts with the ultrasound probe searching for its heart and hearing nothing before the loud rhythmic whoosh whoosh echoed out like a gift from God. Confirming I wasn't listening to Kristi's pulse (which would have been dangerously rapid) in error, I felt I had wrestled some control back. "Okay." I tried to make light. "Head down bum up. We're facing the right way." Not a breech thank goodness. A contraction came then. I could both see it on her abdomen and through the worsening of my ultrasound pictures - but also in the way I could sense Kristi's distress. It may take some time for the tocolytic agents to ease up the intensity of the contractions. I held the ultrasound probe in place on her abdomen so as not to lose the spot for the baby's heart rate. For a moment I convinced myself that the signal was weakened at the height of the contraction by the tensing of the muscles, but I knew it was a lie. The recesses of my mind told me the change in frequency of the tone, just for a short moment, meant I did not have control of this situation at all. I was kidding myself. And there was every chance I was making things so much worse. I was doing the wrong thing! In my fantasy world this would have been the moment help arrived. Right when I most needed it. I even found myself looking at the door in longing. Expecting it. But no one came. Kristi was studying me intently when I turned back to her. Her expression told me she had read me. "What?" she said heavily. The 'what' was her baby needed to come out of her right now. By either one of only two possible ways. Neither of which I was the least bit qualified in. But first I had to face the absolutely unthinkable reality of what I was now compelled to do. No matter how professional I tried to make myself feel, the idea of having to shove as much of my hand as I could fit up my ex best friend?s twat right now was a mortifying proposition. I mean she doesn?t particularly like me now. How can this not be a violation? I guess she could refuse. I half hoped she would. But someone needed to. Who then? "Kristi I need to find out how dilated you are. I need to see how far you are off pushing." "But why?" It was a sensible question. "That?s the whole point of the drugs isn?t it? To hold off me having to push until the experts arrive." "Yes. But..... that last contraction Kristi. There was a late decel." Kristi?s head drops. She knows what I mean. "What?s that?" Jenna clearly didn?t. "Late deceleration," I begin to explain. "The baby?s heart rate drops at the height of the contraction. This means the baby?s tired, distressed and not getting enough oxygen." "What can we do?" Jenna comprehended the gravity now. "We have to get the baby out. If Kristi?s fully dilated she has to push. If she?s not she needs an emergency Caesar." "But we can?t!" Jenna is mortified. I know full well we can?t. I had done a study day a month or so ago on trauma. Trying to better myself. One of the topics was Peri-mortem Caesarian section. How to quickly, (and brutally) remove a live baby from a dead mother. If I tried what I learnt on Kristi we would quickly end up with a dead mother all right. And more than likely a dead baby too. "Kristi I?m sorry. I have to do an internal exam." I felt it likely she knew this was coming. But just in case anyone else didn?t. "I need to measure how dilated your cervix is." "Oh Alex, I?m sorry for you," she croaks in response. "I know how much you hate vaginas. I can see you wrestling with your revulsion right now at the thought of it." I flush. She thinks I?m gay. Which may well be true. I don?t know for sure. But she assumes that I have such an aversion to female genitalia that I can?t touch it. Which is most definitely not true. (I became quite fond of my own female genitalia back when I had it!!) "No Kristi," I try to explain. "It?s just that you?re my friend and it seems...." I stop myself. That?s not how she considers me. "I mean I know you don?t like me much and I would imagine I?d be one of the last people on earth you?d want doing this to you." "Well if that were true I?d really just have to get over myself wouldn?t I? Because right now you?re all I?ve got. So do whatever you need to Doctor." Even in pieces Kristi was still able to manage me. By addressing me as Doctor she was reminding me I was a professional with a job to do, and giving her consent all in one. I did what I had to. To have my fingers greeted by a full 10 centimeters of baby?s head. To be honest this was better. No uncertainty. No pros and cons to consider. And most importantly- with luck - no Caesar. "Stop the infusions Jenna," I say the moment I withdraw my hand. My trusty sidekick complies. "Okay Kristi. You?re fully dilated. You?re going to need to start pushing with contractions. Pretty soon you?re going to start feeling the urge to," I spell things out. "I do already," she affirms. "Okay then!" We start preparing for the final act. I wheel in the dinky old Neonatal Resuscitaire that Obs and Gynae Ward gave the ED when they upgraded. One of the wheels doesn?t work and it?s like pushing a psychotic supermarket trolley. But it will have to do. Kristi is red and sweaty and sheds silent stoic tears. It?s hard with all my compassion for her to stay objective. "I can?t give you narcotic hun." Not that she asked for it. I wondered if it was more about me not able to stand seeing her suffer. "It will suppress the baby?s breathing when it?s born. And I figure you realize it?s way too late for an epidural. There?s IV panadol, even though I know that?s just insulting. But we do have nitrous." I meant nitrous oxide, known in common parlance as laughing gas. "No. It?s okay. I?ll just grin and bear it," she declares. Half in jest, half in grim determination. "Okay. Well it?s ready if you change your mind." It seems like a generally feeble offer. When the next contraction comes we encourage her to push. I feel at this point I?m relying on what I?d seen done on TV. But the contraction peters out and I wonder if the damage I?d done by trying to stop the labor was going to kill this baby. How could I possibly live with that? But her body was fighting back and doing what it needed to. I?d positioned myself between Kristi?s legs as another contraction took hold and she pushed again. Suddenly though, I find myself shoved sideways and nearly toppled over. A scary, lesbian (I?m assuming) man-hating (almost certainly) midwife has appeared from nowhere and foisted me out of the way. I think I?ve never been so relieved to be man-handled (woman-handled?) in all my life. But I?m now redundant. Which is worse. The midwife starts barking instructions to all and sundry. Except me. She has my nurses running hither and thither. With the next contraction Kristi tried to mute a scream but it leaks from her. I leap on the purpose. "Do you want the nitrous Kristi?" "No," she exclaims in whimper. "I want Marty." "He?s coming." It seems such a fruitless thing to say. We both know it. She looks at me and I?m half expecting a scowl but instead she reaches out at me. "Hold my hand Alex!" Displaced from my old job I?ve quickly found another one. And frankly, I think, a better one. I?m now, it seems, Kristi?s surrogate support person. I may not be much of a Marty substitute but I do love her and that?s got to count for something. She squeezes my hand tight with her contractions, and between them I mop her brow and try my best to not say anything stupid or patronizing. If there is one advantage to premature labour and having a baby that weighs less than one and a half kilos (About half of what it should) it?s that it doesn?t take long to shoot out. In only minutes I hear the midwife fussing over the baby?s head and making sure the cord is not around its neck. I can?t see because I?m up at Kristi?s head end with her. Shortly after that here?s a small plop which I assume is the rest of the baby falling out. There is a moment of unsettling silence before the midwife reaches up and hands me a limp pale bundle of flesh. "This is your job," she grunts. Without hesitation I scurry with the precious little human, away from Kristi the short distance to the Infant warmer/ Resuscitaire. Kristi?s baby, a little girl, looks terrible. In a way it?s the culmination of my predictions. The precipitous premature delivery was too much for it. It?s stunned and unable to breathe for itself. It looks stillborn. But I know it had a pulse minutes earlier, I?d heard it on the Doppler. There?s not a moment to lose. "Alex?" Kristi calls after me. She can?t see me from her prostate supine position. I had avoided showing her the baby. Not like it was. She probably sensed something was wrong. The complete lack of any sort of cry made that obvious. I hoped I was doing the right thing. I wanted her to hold a happy pink gurgling baby, not see flashes of a lifeless blue one. But if she dies... Did I know what to do? Not really. I was relying on instinct more than memory. Meg had done a session with us one morning on resuscitation of the newborn. But when I needed to recall what I learnt, I felt abandoned. "Alex!" Kristi shouts my name again. "We?re right here. Kristi," I announce back as I begin wiping the baby with a towel. "Tell me what?s going on!" "Kristi..." I express my reticence. "Everything Alex! Blow by blow. I know things aren?t good." She?s immobile as the midwife continues to try and work the placenta out of her. "I need you to tell me what?s happening. Please!" "I?m just drying and warming your baby to stimulate it." I acquiesce to her request. How could I not? Silence. From everyone. "Jenna." I realize I?ve forgotten to do something that seems blindingly obvious. "Please call a Neonatal Code Blue for me." Let?s shake this fucking tree. Even if nothing falls out at least we tried. "Okay." I move on whilst that?s being done. "I?m just sucking its nose to clear the airway and provide noxious stimulus. To start up breathing." I was aware I sounded like I was reciting a textbook. I think that is because I probably was. "It?" I was wondering if she?d notice my avoidance of pronouns. "What is ?it??" Kristi demands. "That?s for you to see in a minute once we?re stable." "Can?t you just tell me?" But it?s not aggressive, more frustration. "I haven?t looked myself," I lie. Nothing much happens in response to my nasal suction. Weak breathing effort is about the best of it. I feel the base of the baby?s umbilicus. (The belly button.) The best place to feel a pulse on a newborn. "The heart rate is slow and baby?s breathing effort is poor, Kristi. I?m assisting breathing." I hook the baby up to our Neopuff positive pressure ventilating device. "Are you going to need to intubate?" Kristi asks. Craning to see. She?s doing a good job of not becoming hysterical. "I don?t know," is my frustratingly vague answer. For both me and her. Were the baby born before 30 weeks this would have been mandatory, but there was a reasonable chance one this size could avoid being ventilated in a Neonatal intensive care unit. If that was required, a NICU, the baby could no longer stay at Blackbrook Hospital. It would necessitate transport to a major city hospital. Whether that could be avoided or not wasn?t solely dependent on me, but I had to try my hardest to minimize that possibility. Holding the donut shaped mask over her little face, and using my index finger to regulate the oxygen flow in a rapid pattern of inspiration and expiration I let the rhythmic pattern allow me to restore calm and regroup. Slowly but surely the blueness fades away. Thirty seconds later the baby?s colour has improved to the point where all but the peripheries are pink and her heart rate increased to the magic number of over 100 beats a minute. "Color?s getting better," I announce to Kristi. She is silent, there?s probably nothing to say to that, but I hope she?s encouraged. Within 3 minutes of Neopuff ventilation the baby?s pre ductal oxygen saturation is in target range for minutes post partum, meaning the oxygen levels in her blood were where they should be. It starts to wiggle and let?s out a weak but audible cry. "There you go," I announce. Realizing my narrative had prematurely stopped a short time earlier. "Third stage of labour complete," the grumpy midwife announces the placenta has been delivered. The two coinciding events allow Kristi a decompressive sigh. "I think it?s time you met your baby Kristi," I announce with a small sense of aplomb. I wrap the baby quickly in a fresh baby blanket and scoop it up. "Not too long Kristi," I say softly as I move to pass her baby to her. "We need to continue supplemental oxygen." I place the baby in her waiting arms. "Well?" I ask. "A girl," she announces. The gender reveal should absolutely be a parents? prerogative. I was not going to ruin that for her. "Congratulations," I remember to say. She cries obligatory happy tears as the baby snuffles in her arms. I retake the seat beside Kristi. Partly to continue to observe for the signs of respiratory distress or returning cyanosis. But also just to be close. "Thank you Alex!" "I didn?t do anything." Which is mostly true. "You did it all." Before either of us can speak again a crowd flows in. It seems the Caesar is over because the combined night shift of Paediatrics and Obstetrics arrive together in response to the Code Blue. Once again I?m bundled aside and before I can utter any sort of statement both Kristi and her baby girl are gone, whisked off to mid ward and Special care nursery consecutively. Jenna, myself, and the rest of the assorted ED team stand stunned for a moment. "Okay then!" I break the spell. "I better go check on Mr Larkin." With that we all disperse and return to work. It?s the ED way I guess. Time, and the procession of ill, stop for no man. (Or woman.) *** At 730am Jenna and her team of nurses filter away. I thank them all for their work and Jenna gives me a friendly wink. An hour later I escape myself. I hand over an Emergency Department to the day staff that whilst not entirely pretty, is still functional. Mr Larkin is sorted and stable. And he was probably the sickest of them. No one died on my first night as a Doctor in charge. Truly once again perhaps more good luck than good management. But of course I?ll take it. *** I feel compelled and eager on my way out to head up to Special Care to check on the baby. It?s not a very large Unit and the moment I?m in the door I see Kristi and Marty seated beside the Humidicrib. This is the Perspex box used to keep the baby warm and provide additional oxygen if required. Marty must have only just arrived from Sydney and it?s certainly not a scene I want to intrude on so I back away and turn. "Alex," Kristi calls, from behind me. She must have seen me. "Oh hey!" I say from the doorway. "I just came to check..... I don?t want to interrupt... I?ll leave you to it." "No. Come over." She?s forceful. I do. With a little reluctance. "How is she?" I ask. "They have her on the high flow nasal prongs for now. She?s doing well. Hasn?t even needed CPAP." (This is an acronym for a form of assisted breathing that uses pressure to keep all the baby?s little airways open.) "That?s great. Tough like her mum." I don?t think I could have thought of anything cheesier if I tried. Kristi smiles, probably politely. "Marty." She follows. "I?m famished. Could you go down to the kiosk and get me something to eat?" Marty glances at me, a quick look up and down; before deciding I?m insignificant. "Okay. What do you want?" He?s keen to do as instructed. She gives a verbal list and he heads off. She probably is starving after all she?s been through. It?s only after Marty leaves I realize that we?ve never met before. Not like I am. We weren?t introduced. He has no idea who I am. Hence the look I suppose. Kristi and I are alone by the crib. Was she really just hungry or did she send him away on my account? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? I?m not sure. She either wanted to see me in private or she didn?t want me to meet him. I don?t suppose it matters. "And how are you?" I lead on. "Fine. Not too sore. Shell shocked. I can?t believe she?s out of me. And a little sad." I suspect I know why. "You can?t take her home. Even if her breathing was okay she?ll have to be fed via a nasogastric until she?s able to suck." "I know. So I have to express. Oh my God! You have no idea what it?s like to have your tits squeezed!" She laughs. Well I had some idea. But I best not share that. "You poor thing," I say. She laughs again. "Four weeks they reckon. And they?ll turf me out tomorrow. So I?ll be coming and going every day." "I know that?ll be hard. At least she?ll be safe here." "You?re right," she concedes. "So what have you called her?" Silly me for not asking till now. But it proved an opportune question for steering from a slightly gloomy subject. "See for yourself." She indicates the little card attached to the outside end of the Humidicrib. I?d seen them before. They have the baby?s name, sex, (Because that?s not always obvious from the name in this day and age) birth date, time and weight. I walk around to read it. I don?t know how to react. I?m certainly stunned to say the least. "Don?t go getting any ideas Doctor." She smirks. "I liked the name long before I liked you." "Alexandra!" I announce it just to be sure it?s real. In spite of what she says, she has named the baby after me. Well after her best friend for over a year of her life, technically. Consciously she can?t remember that. But it makes me suspect that subconsciously some connection still exists between us. "Well that may be true," I retaliate. "But she will be called Alex. Which you are no doubt aware. And knowing me hasn?t put you off it." "I guess not." "Well I?m claiming it," I joke. "Fine," she relents. It?s true though. Most people wouldn?t choose a name, even if they liked it, if they knew someone they couldn?t stand who had the same name. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment looking at the cooing girl through the plastic. "Alex," Kristi begins. Her tone a little more serious. "What I said when I was in labour.... I was trying to be funny. To take my mind off things. I didn?t mean to come off as homophobic." "Don?t sweat it Kristi. I wasn?t even thinking of it." Which was true. "Although I?ll have you know I?ve slept with far more women than men." "So you?re not gay?" She?s surprised. "It?s just that Julie practically threw herself at you. And Jenna. And you showed no interest whatsoever." "Jenna?" I exclaim. Now I?m surprised. When did that happen? And how was I oblivious to it? "Oh really?" Kristi mocks me for my ignorance. "Well after that we kind of just assumed you weren?t interested in women at all." "Well I guess that?s kind of true," I admit. "And to be fair my most recent and definitely most meaningful relationship I?ve ever had was with a man. So if you really needed a label...." "I don?t. Not really." "Is that why you didn?t introduce me to Marty? Worried I might fancy him." "No. Not at all. In fact I will as soon as he get?s back. ?Marty. This is Alex. I spent last night with him and he fingered me.?" "God Kristi! That?s so inappropriate." She laughs. "Well I?m pretty certain you have to buy me dinner after that!" "Okay. Well I?ve decided you definitely recovered from your traumatic childbirth experience if you can be so vulgar about it. So I?m going to leave before your husband comes back and decides he wants to punch me." "Chicken," Kristi teases. "I?ll have you know I?m a good fighter Kristi." I ham it up. "I have a mean scratch and I?m not too bad at the hair pull." She smiles warmly. "Thank you again Alex." "You?re welcome," I say. "Just make sure you get some sleep. You?ll need all your strength to look after Alex Junior." "Don?t make me regret my decision!" I congratulate her on her amazing effort yet again and promise to visit whilst her baby is stuck in hospital. Which I will. We part with another hug and I wonder if that?s becoming a thing between us. Which it used to be; with frequency; when I was someone else entirely. I secretly hope it will again. *** It?s only 10am on Friday morning as I leave Special Care, and I don?t have another shift at Wellness until Monday. The best part of three days off. I don?t like having all that consecutive time alone with my thoughts. It just reminds me of how much I don?t like my life now. Too much time to dwell and fester. I?ll probably pick up an Emergency shift on Sunday. No doubt there?ll be one available. But I really should occupy myself till then Maybe tomorrow I could run the ?1000 steps?, I consider, as I contemplate things to do. I?d been thinking about doing it for a while, but hadn?t. With very good reason, as I had the same reaction now as I did every other time I considered it. I thought about Kevin and whether she would have returned to the myriad of ranks of lycra clad women there on any given day. If she had returned to full time lawyering I guess it would be a weekend day that she would be there. Such as tomorrow. I wouldn?t recognize her of course. But she might be able to identify me. The first time we met I was Alex Turner. But that was just one encounter. And Mr Black said, the last time I saw him over 4 months ago, that she still thought I was Alexandra Ward. She wouldn?t be expecting me. More significantly she wouldn?t want anything to do with me. So more than likely if she did spot me she would just ignore me and I?d be none the wiser. Of course I?d be lying if I said I hadn?t entertained the notion of her leaping out of the crowd as I ran by. Announcing: ?Alex! It?s me!? And we have a fond reunion and a chat over coffee. I knew these fantasies were not healthy. But I couldn?t seem to stop them. Before I headed home for a sleep and maybe a day in front of Netflix; (I can?t believe how much I still love romantic comedies, so long after I ceased to be Alexandra! I guess that meant I still believed in love. Just maybe not for me.) I had to nick over to Wellness and tidy up some stuff. Mainly finish some paperwork that I didn?t get to in my efforts to rush home and sleep before night duty. As I scurried into my office I nearly ran headlong into Mike Richards. "Alex! What are you doing here? I thought you were off today." He expresses surprise, and maybe even guilt. The thought that it was odd Mike was coming out of my office flicked through my mind momentarily, but it faded quickly as I felt the need to explain myself. "I am. I just did a night shift in E.D. and was heading home. I just needed to finish some case notes from yesterday." "You worked overnight? After a day here?" His tone was stern and the questions didn?t need an answer. "Alex I feel like you?re burning the candle at both ends." I wasn?t specifically resentful of the way he lorded his authority over me. I felt it devalued our friendship though. I didn?t know if this was a fault in me or not. I chose not to reply and continued into my office. Apparently he wasn?t done as he backtracked and followed me in. I was tired and I slid into my chair. This was probably a mistake, as he now stood over me, in a domineering stance. "If you want my opinion Alex." It was clear he was giving it anyway. "I think you?re a slave to too many masters. If you overcommit yourself you won?t do either job properly." "Has there been complaints? A problem with my work?" I honestly didn?t think there had. I was pouring my heart and soul into both my jobs as much as I could. But I was worried now. "No. Not as such." It was snappish but also suggestive. Like he was expecting there soon would be. "What do you mean?" If he has something to say... "What?s your fascination with the Emergency Department anyway?" He avoids answering. "I consider it atonement. Or penance perhaps. You said yourself they thought I was a shit Doctor back before my leave. I?m just trying to make amends." If that was what I really thought I was doing, it had been at the subconscious level. But it would do for him. Personally I figured it had the familiarity of home. A connection to my old life as Alexandra Moore. The time of my life when I was my happiest. It made sense to me to hold on to that. "Well that?s all well and good. But what about the rest of it?" "What do you mean?" This sounded ominous. "The Emergency department wasn?t the only complaint we received whilst you were off finding yourself." He was referring to my alleged time in Tibet. Or wherever. What if I ran into someone who?d actually been there and wanted to compare notes? It was unlikely I suppose. Anyway that wasn?t the pressing issue right now. "Who else?" Had made a complaint? I had no idea. I couldn?t begin to speculate. "How many of your patients did you fuck Alex?" Bang! Well that was blunt. He clearly had an agenda and it was well and truly out now. "I....... I?m not doing that any more!" I guess that was an admission of guilt, but it was the truth. "And I?m expected to believe that? You should be struck off Alex. I should never have stuck up for you and covered your arse for so long." Perhaps that was the basis of his malice. "I?m sorry. I should never have abused our friendship like that." "Friendship? What friendship? What did I ever get out of it? You?re just a taker." He?s angry. I?ve never seen Mike like this before. Maybe it?s the pressures of responsibility. I don?t know. "I don?t know what else to say. I really am sorry." I?m trying to appease him, but nothing?s working. "Save it. And just so we?re clear; now that I?m your boss. One more indiscretion; one more tryst; and I?m straight onto the Medical Board and firing your randy, oversexed arse." I guess that was the statement that really raised my eyebrows. If only he knew. Sex was by and large the farthest thing from my mind. "Trust me. It?s not an issue any more." "Well we?ll see about that." And those are his parting words as he stormed out of my office. I don?t know where this has come from. I guess we?re clearly not friends any more. My prediction is right. I?m too stunned to even contemplate doing the paperwork I came for. My chickens are coming home to roost it seems. Even if I felt like I left that life behind, that life still isn?t done with me. I think about Mike?s parting comment. How far would he be willing to go? To get me fired. Would he set me up? Hire someone? Create a fake patient to flirt with me? Lead me on and even seduce me? If he had, I knew exactly who she was. **** There was every chance that Louisa Clark was an innocent young woman with depression. But I couldn?t bring myself to believe it now. What?s the old line? ?I wouldn?t be so paranoid if everybody wasn?t talking about me!? I?d spent my three days off thinking about her and her little inconsistencies. Each little quirk snowballing in my mind to become glaring irregularities. I thought about how I would approach our next meeting. The thing was, I was a trained psychiatrist. She was either a private detective, professional actress, or possibly even a paid whore. Whatever she was, her mission was my undoing. Now that I knew that though I could fight back. I should have no trouble breaking her down. But did I want to? If she knows I?m onto her then Mike will and it?s all over. Till he finds some other way. Better the devil you know really. The best thing was to play along. Shun her advances courteously and prove to Mike that I am trustworthy. All I really had to do was be true to the person I am now. I just felt so scared and betrayed about it all. How can I behave normally? All I could do was try I suppose. She came to her second appointment mid week. Again in a dazzling array of hues. I guess when you are playing a stereotype you really have to nail it. Possibly a little more flesh on view this time. Clearly she?s ramping it up. This time she also brought with her a big heavy handbag. What was in there I wondered? Recording device? Secret camera? Was Mike listening even now? I must say she was cunning and well versed though. When I tried to touch on her relationship with her parents she told me they had died when she was young. When I then raised the point that she had previously mentioned her mother?s comment on her dress sense she quickly explained it was her foster mother, whom she still considered a surrogate. She was a hard nut to crack really. But she had an agenda. She had to get me to make sexual advances towards her. I, on the other hand wanted to quickly get to the point where she would be prompting that, so that when it was clear I wouldn?t be tempted we could get this over and done with. I didn?t want to spend countless sessions in a fa?ade just to eventually lead to the point where she would say, ?How about it?? and I?d say ?No thanks?. The End. I wanted that to happen now. I sped to a topic that I thought would help. "So tell me about Sam. Do you think he?s the love of your life? Do you believe in such a thing?" "I do believe in such a thing. And no, he isn?t," she notes with apparent sadness. "So if it?s not Sam, do you think he?s still out there then? The one for you. That you?re yet to meet him?" "I already have," she affirms. "What?" Here it comes. I?ll make you spell it out though. "Met them." Perfect. Now?s the bit where she tells me that ?No-one understands me quite like you do Dr Turner.? ?No-one has ever lit my passionate fire like you do Alex. I feel like we?re soul mates. Take me. I have to have you.? "Really?" It?s too easy. "Who?" ?You are Doctor Turner.? She?s about to say. "Will," is what she actually says. "What?" This isn?t right. "Will was the love of my life. But we?re not together any more." She slumps in her chair as she draws forward a clearly painful memory. You idiot Alex! You?ve made a mistake. You really did let your paranoia get away from you. Louisa Clark is just a sad broken hearted woman. And you thought she was a saboteur sent to end your career. I don?t know if I can blame Mr Black for this. Maybe in part I guess. He has made me so insecure and paranoid. He effectively turned me into a schizophrenic woman for a month of my life. It?s not an easy place to come back from. But ultimately it?s my own stupidity. The spectre of my past sins that I am expecting to come back to haunt me. Thank God it?s not too late though. I haven?t done or said anything to jeopardise my professional Doctor ? patient relationship with this woman. I can salvage this. "Tell me about him." "Her." "Pardon?" "Will?s a woman." "Oh sorry I just assumed." With good reason in my defense. Sam was a man. She had called him her boyfriend. So when the love of her life is called ?Will? it stood to reason. But in this day and age one should know... "I?m really sorry Louisa. I know it was presumptive of me. I guess Will just struck me as more commonly a male name." I guess it was short for Wilma or Wilhelmina or something. "Unlike Sam I guess. Which really could be either." "Or like your name," she adds, maybe with a little bit of a point to prove. Touch? I guess. If only she knew. "It?s okay." She appears gracious. "It?s a common mistake. Especially from a patriarchal type such as yourself." Ouch. "How would it sit with you if you knew Will and I were actually married for a time?" She continues. She?s testing me. Clearly. Not the way I thought I was about to be tested. She?s clearly deciding if she wants me as her treating psychiatrist. "Louisa. Honestly. I have absolutely no prejudices. I think it?s wonderful that we can love and marry whoever we want. What concerns me more is that you feel this way about her but you?re not with her now." "I wish I was." "Then of course my next question has to be: Why aren?t you?" It was a possibility she was dead and this woman was grieving over a love lost in the worst possible way, but I didn?t get that feel. "I suppose you could say fate intervened." Well that was suitably vague. She could still be dead. "Is it possible, if you wanted to, that you could meet Will and have a conversation?" I suppose she still could, were they a ghost, and she was nuts, but I felt this could help answer the dead or alive question. "It?s complicated." Oh boy. You?re not exactly kicking goals Alex. Or is she being purposely obtuse? "Louisa. If you want me to help you, you need to explain a little more." She studies me for a moment. There something more steely about her penetrative stare that I hadn?t seen before. "You want to know more?" She raises her shoulders and stiffens her posture. "Fine! I?ll tell you." I honestly don?t know what?s coming. But I feel a considerable inexplicable unease. "Her name was Will Traynor. And I loved her. But she fell into the clutches of an evil psychiatrist. He brainwashed her. And changed her. And I lost her." She looked at me then. Fiercely. Accusingly. Challengingly. And it all made sense. My instincts were right. This is a trap. But not at all in the way I had thought. And Mike Richards has nothing to do with this. I?m the evil psychiatrist. Or the old me anyway. Will Traynor, which may not be her real name, was clearly one of my patients. I would think I would remember a girl by that name. I wrack my brain for the recollection. But I can?t think of it. Clearly I seduced her. Louisa was her wife, like she says, and I stole her away. I ruined their relationship. She?s not here for counseling. She?s here for revenge. And that heavy object in her handbag is not a recording device. It?s something else entirely. It?s a weapon. A gun? This is how it ends I guess. Was this part of Mr Black?s plan? To see the error of my ways only to be murdered by the jilted lover of a woman I seduced. Maybe it?s nothing to do with him though. Maybe it?s simply justice being served. This was to be my fate regardless of the traumatic journey the last two years had taken me on. What?s even worse I have no recollection of who the woman may have been, that I forced to betray her wife. Will Traynor. Then it hits me. Not the bullet. That?s still to come. Will Traynor! Louisa Clark! She?s a carer for the disabled. With a boyfriend named Sam. Accused with regard to her dress sense of wrestling on the floor of a charity shop. Everything is fiction! In the literal sense of the word. "I?ve read this novel!" I say with recrimination to the woman opposite me, whose name I do not know, and whose whole story has at least some degree of fabrication. "You?re not Louisa Clark. And your Ex wife?s name is not Will Traynor. Who are you really?" She smiles then. But it?s not the smile of a would be assassin. It?s something else. I just don?t quite know what. "My name is Sarah. Not that this will mean anything to you." "But," she continues with weight in her words. "Maybe my ex wife?s name will mean something to you." She pauses then. It?s not for dramatic effect. Although that?s the reaction it draws from me. It seems more that she is having trouble bringing herself to say it. I?m dying to know. And I appreciate the ironic literality of that. I think I?m also frightened that when she says it the name won?t mean anything to me. That I still won?t remember her. And I?ll die wondering. She finally forces herself to speak, and I can?t stop myself from holding my breath in anticipation. "Her name was Alex." TBC