Post by iris on Jun 4, 2005 18:35:15 GMT 1
Ok guys, it’s my turn to try and post a fiction. This is a long story made of two major parts. Each has several pieces. The time – about three weeks after Jack and Ria’s death. A short time after the BBC started Series 7 – just with one big difference. Note – this fiction is slightly gay so beware you narrow minded…
This story would never be posted without the help of my dear friend Pam, always encouraging and also helping me with my English. Thank you so much Pam. I love you mate, you are the greatest.
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Part I
The young woman who entered The Mill Health Centre looked very sure of herself. “I want to register here,” she said. Sarah gave her a big smile. “Welcome,” she replied, “will you please fill in this form for me?” “Thank you.” The woman took the form and the pen Sarah handed her.
She approached the reception desk a few minutes later. “Here. Now, I want an appointment with Dr. Thompson, please.” “I’m afraid Dr. Thompson can’t see you today.” Sarah looked as this wasn’t the first time she was saying these words. “So tomorrow, then” said the woman. “No rush”. Sarah shook her head. “It is not possible either, I’m afraid.” “Can you find me something next week, maybe?” “No!” Sarah looked frustrated. “Look, why don’t you have an appointment with one of our other doctors?” She returned to her normal smiling expression. “Dr. Thompson isn’t accepting new patients these days.” The young woman looked up from the leaflet she was gazing at and looked into Sarah’s eyes: “She didn’t return to work, did she now?” “We don’t discuss our doctors’ personal lives with the patients.” Sarah’s voice was strangely loud and echoed around the new super-practice reception room. “Do you want to see a doctor today or not?”
“What’s going on here?” George has just come out of her room to stretch her legs. She didn’t like the structure of the new super-practice. Her room was too far from the reception desk and she missed the cosy old Riverside where she could have a chat with everybody leaning on the desk between patients. The new staff room was great, of course, but there was something missing there. The homely feeling was blown up in the fire that changed their lives so drastically, and no new fancy facilities could replace it. The woman raised her head as she smiled at her: “Hi. I’m Dr. Woodson.”
“This NEW patient here” Sarah wanted this fact to be clear “insists on seeing Helen, but…”
“I understand” said George. ”If you’ve finished with the administrative part I’ll see her now.”
“…But…” said Sarah.
“…But…” said the patient.
“No buts!” announced George. “YOU, add her to Helen’s list.” She pointed at Sarah “I’ll take care of her temporarily. And YOU,” she looked at the woman who stood there puzzled. “Follow me please.”
“Sit down.” George uploaded the new file on the screen. “Ann, right?” The patient nodded.
“When did you move to Letherbridge?”
“Last week.”
“And do you have a specific problem you wanted to consult us about or do you just want a general check up?”
“I don’t want to consult any of you. I NEED to talk to Dr. Thompson.” The woman’s face suddenly seemed desperate. “Please.” She was insisting like a child. Couldn’t take no for an answer.
“Dr. Thompson is a good friend of mine. If you tell me what’s it all about I might be able to help.”
There was silence in the room.
“Listen, Ann, I’d really like to help you, but you are making it very hard for me.”
George looked at Ann, who seemed to be in a world of her own now. She was in her mid thirties, thin, average size. Her hair was short and it used to be once some kind of red, only now it looked like no one had taken care of it for quite some time, the original brown was clearly seen through the colour, and it was shapeless. What attracted George’s attention most were her eyes. They looked old, worn out. This woman has been through some kind of a great pain not so long ago.
“I thought she could understand me.” Ann’s voice was so quiet that George had to lean forward to hear her. “I wanted her to help me ease the pain.” There was something odd about her soft accent. Not entirely local.
“You will have to excuse me for asking, but,” George paused as she tried to read this patient’s mind. “Why did you think Dr. Thompson could be the only one who would listen to you? I understand you are new in Letherbridge. Did you meet any of her patients?”
“No, but I just know she’s the only one. I read about her. I know what she’s been through. She must understand! Do you see her? Can you tell her I was looking for her? Please!”
“You say you have read about Helen. Where?” George looked distressed.
“In my home town’s local paper. In Norway. The reporter was visiting a friend in Birmingham when the fire took place. His friend kept updating him with all the details when he was back home. He wrote it was the talk of the town. He thought it was an interesting story.”
George sighed. It was all true. No one knew who was the first to publicise Ria’s suicidal note’s content but after the first many followed. Another good reason for poor Helen not to leave the house. It wasn’t in the papers here yet – they still had some respect to people’s privacy – but George had in mind to ask Ronnie if he could get a ‘gag order’ on the whole event. Just in case. Local newspaper in Norway. Really.
But the woman definitely knew what she was talking about. George’s attention came back to her story.
“…So I thought to myself, since we’ve been through similar losses, she would surely be able to share her experience with me. You know, how to get over it and move on. I didn’t want to live anymore, I still don’t. But I’m too scared to kill myself. If I could just talk to her, hear her ways of confronting the constant pain…”
George was angry with herself for letting her thoughts wander. She has just missed the reason for this patient’s grief. “And you moved to Letherbridge because you wanted to talk to Dr. Thompson.”
It didn’t make sense for this person to have come all the way from Norway just to speak to Helen. George hoped she had missed other parts of the story as well. It just didn’t make any sense.
“To share her experience. Yes. Will you help me? Can you tell me when I could talk to her?”
There was no point in telling Ann anything but the truth. George was hoping she didn’t sound too cruel when she said, “You really don’t know much about Dr. Thompson. Helen is just not that kind of a person. She won’t talk about her personal life with anyone. She doesn’t share. Everything is always ok with her, if you ask. Or she’d just tell you to mind your own business. We used to think this was just her way of coping, but.” George didn’t know why she was telling this to a stranger, but she had to get it off her chest. “I don’t think she’s coping. I wish I were wrong. But I’m not. For once in her life the ice maiden cracked”.
“So she hasn’t been back to work since”. This was a statement.
“Nope.”
“Are you seeing her? Is she alone? Who’s taking care of her children? I read in the paper she had kids.”
“Yes, Daniel and Clair. Her sister Louise takes them to school everyday, and brings them back in the afternoon. I really should be talking to her to offer some help. In fact, now that you mention it, I have some time on my lunch break. I might pop in to see how she is.”
“Can I come? I really need to see her. I keep thinking of her since I read that article.”
“Of course you can’t. It’s a private matter! But I’ll tell you what. Since you seem to be so interested in Helen’s state I’ll give you my number and you can call me tonight. Let’s say, around nine? I’ll tell you how she is. Deal?”
“Deal”. Was she too quiet?
“But for the meantime” George returned to a more professional mode “you should consider counselling. There are also support groups where you can discuss your situation with people in your state or that have been through similar and want to share their experience. I’ll give you the numbers.”
Ann stood up. “I don’t need any support groups! I just… “
“I know,” said George softly, “I’m really sorry.”
The door slammed.
Later, when she went for a cup, George stopped at Sarah’s desk. “What did that nervous woman want from Helen, really?”
“You are not going to believe this.” George was exhausted. “She wanted Helen to advise her about successful bereavement confrontation.” It was ridiculous enough even without mentioning where Ann came from.
“You don’t say!” said Sarah. “So she had no clue about…Oh, poor Helen. I’ve been trying to get her on the phone at least twice a day. She never picks up.”
“Yeah. Me too. I think I’ll go and see what’s with her at lunchtime. If Ronnie calls will you tell him?”
“Yep.”
George’s visit to Helen’s wasn’t successful. It took her almost half of her lunch break to find her car keys (where she’d left them) and she almost ran over a dog as she was rushing to get there. When she arrived the house looked abandoned. No lights were on and even when she walked around it to look through the back windows she saw no one there. No one came to the door at her call and when she tried to phone she could hear, through the window, the telephone ringing in vain. Frustrated she went back to the car. If she had raised her eyes she would have seen the taxi that followed her at a safe distance all the way from The Mill. But she didn’t notice it. She had too much on her mind anyway.
Back at the surgery she thought what to tell anxious Ann if she called. Ann’s desperate eyes were burnt in her memory. She must tell Ronnie about her. Maybe there’s another way to help. Just before leaving she realised she has never managed to give Ann her number. Ann had left straight away when counselling was mentioned not even waiting for George to tell her about all the options. Another poor soul, George thought to herself, I’ll call her to see how she is. Restoring the information on the screen she picked up the phone.
“There’s no Ann here” said an old lady’s voice. “You’ve reached a hostel. We usually don’t ask for anybody’s names.” George hoped that the patient that occupied her mind since the morning gave them another name. She described her to the woman.
“Oh, her” the woman affirmed she recognised her. “She’s just left. Took all her bags and went. Good riddance if you ask me. She was even stranger than our usual guests.” The women laughed dryly and hang up.
George felt it was not her day. She looked again at the name that was flickering on her screen: Ann x. Pected. She repeated it to herself out load. Ann x Pected. Come on you idiot! Think! She was fooling us all along. Unexpected, she was indeed. George felt so stupid. She grabbed her head in despair. It seemed to be just one of those cases when the patient doesn’t really want any help and they have to chase them down for it. Well she can’t this time. The woman has left no trace. Assuming this was the last time she’d come across this unexpected person she decided to forget all about her and go home.
No. It was definitely not her day.
This story would never be posted without the help of my dear friend Pam, always encouraging and also helping me with my English. Thank you so much Pam. I love you mate, you are the greatest.
**************************************************
Part I
UNEXPECTED
The young woman who entered The Mill Health Centre looked very sure of herself. “I want to register here,” she said. Sarah gave her a big smile. “Welcome,” she replied, “will you please fill in this form for me?” “Thank you.” The woman took the form and the pen Sarah handed her.
She approached the reception desk a few minutes later. “Here. Now, I want an appointment with Dr. Thompson, please.” “I’m afraid Dr. Thompson can’t see you today.” Sarah looked as this wasn’t the first time she was saying these words. “So tomorrow, then” said the woman. “No rush”. Sarah shook her head. “It is not possible either, I’m afraid.” “Can you find me something next week, maybe?” “No!” Sarah looked frustrated. “Look, why don’t you have an appointment with one of our other doctors?” She returned to her normal smiling expression. “Dr. Thompson isn’t accepting new patients these days.” The young woman looked up from the leaflet she was gazing at and looked into Sarah’s eyes: “She didn’t return to work, did she now?” “We don’t discuss our doctors’ personal lives with the patients.” Sarah’s voice was strangely loud and echoed around the new super-practice reception room. “Do you want to see a doctor today or not?”
“What’s going on here?” George has just come out of her room to stretch her legs. She didn’t like the structure of the new super-practice. Her room was too far from the reception desk and she missed the cosy old Riverside where she could have a chat with everybody leaning on the desk between patients. The new staff room was great, of course, but there was something missing there. The homely feeling was blown up in the fire that changed their lives so drastically, and no new fancy facilities could replace it. The woman raised her head as she smiled at her: “Hi. I’m Dr. Woodson.”
“This NEW patient here” Sarah wanted this fact to be clear “insists on seeing Helen, but…”
“I understand” said George. ”If you’ve finished with the administrative part I’ll see her now.”
“…But…” said Sarah.
“…But…” said the patient.
“No buts!” announced George. “YOU, add her to Helen’s list.” She pointed at Sarah “I’ll take care of her temporarily. And YOU,” she looked at the woman who stood there puzzled. “Follow me please.”
“Sit down.” George uploaded the new file on the screen. “Ann, right?” The patient nodded.
“When did you move to Letherbridge?”
“Last week.”
“And do you have a specific problem you wanted to consult us about or do you just want a general check up?”
“I don’t want to consult any of you. I NEED to talk to Dr. Thompson.” The woman’s face suddenly seemed desperate. “Please.” She was insisting like a child. Couldn’t take no for an answer.
“Dr. Thompson is a good friend of mine. If you tell me what’s it all about I might be able to help.”
There was silence in the room.
“Listen, Ann, I’d really like to help you, but you are making it very hard for me.”
George looked at Ann, who seemed to be in a world of her own now. She was in her mid thirties, thin, average size. Her hair was short and it used to be once some kind of red, only now it looked like no one had taken care of it for quite some time, the original brown was clearly seen through the colour, and it was shapeless. What attracted George’s attention most were her eyes. They looked old, worn out. This woman has been through some kind of a great pain not so long ago.
“I thought she could understand me.” Ann’s voice was so quiet that George had to lean forward to hear her. “I wanted her to help me ease the pain.” There was something odd about her soft accent. Not entirely local.
“You will have to excuse me for asking, but,” George paused as she tried to read this patient’s mind. “Why did you think Dr. Thompson could be the only one who would listen to you? I understand you are new in Letherbridge. Did you meet any of her patients?”
“No, but I just know she’s the only one. I read about her. I know what she’s been through. She must understand! Do you see her? Can you tell her I was looking for her? Please!”
“You say you have read about Helen. Where?” George looked distressed.
“In my home town’s local paper. In Norway. The reporter was visiting a friend in Birmingham when the fire took place. His friend kept updating him with all the details when he was back home. He wrote it was the talk of the town. He thought it was an interesting story.”
George sighed. It was all true. No one knew who was the first to publicise Ria’s suicidal note’s content but after the first many followed. Another good reason for poor Helen not to leave the house. It wasn’t in the papers here yet – they still had some respect to people’s privacy – but George had in mind to ask Ronnie if he could get a ‘gag order’ on the whole event. Just in case. Local newspaper in Norway. Really.
But the woman definitely knew what she was talking about. George’s attention came back to her story.
“…So I thought to myself, since we’ve been through similar losses, she would surely be able to share her experience with me. You know, how to get over it and move on. I didn’t want to live anymore, I still don’t. But I’m too scared to kill myself. If I could just talk to her, hear her ways of confronting the constant pain…”
George was angry with herself for letting her thoughts wander. She has just missed the reason for this patient’s grief. “And you moved to Letherbridge because you wanted to talk to Dr. Thompson.”
It didn’t make sense for this person to have come all the way from Norway just to speak to Helen. George hoped she had missed other parts of the story as well. It just didn’t make any sense.
“To share her experience. Yes. Will you help me? Can you tell me when I could talk to her?”
There was no point in telling Ann anything but the truth. George was hoping she didn’t sound too cruel when she said, “You really don’t know much about Dr. Thompson. Helen is just not that kind of a person. She won’t talk about her personal life with anyone. She doesn’t share. Everything is always ok with her, if you ask. Or she’d just tell you to mind your own business. We used to think this was just her way of coping, but.” George didn’t know why she was telling this to a stranger, but she had to get it off her chest. “I don’t think she’s coping. I wish I were wrong. But I’m not. For once in her life the ice maiden cracked”.
“So she hasn’t been back to work since”. This was a statement.
“Nope.”
“Are you seeing her? Is she alone? Who’s taking care of her children? I read in the paper she had kids.”
“Yes, Daniel and Clair. Her sister Louise takes them to school everyday, and brings them back in the afternoon. I really should be talking to her to offer some help. In fact, now that you mention it, I have some time on my lunch break. I might pop in to see how she is.”
“Can I come? I really need to see her. I keep thinking of her since I read that article.”
“Of course you can’t. It’s a private matter! But I’ll tell you what. Since you seem to be so interested in Helen’s state I’ll give you my number and you can call me tonight. Let’s say, around nine? I’ll tell you how she is. Deal?”
“Deal”. Was she too quiet?
“But for the meantime” George returned to a more professional mode “you should consider counselling. There are also support groups where you can discuss your situation with people in your state or that have been through similar and want to share their experience. I’ll give you the numbers.”
Ann stood up. “I don’t need any support groups! I just… “
“I know,” said George softly, “I’m really sorry.”
The door slammed.
Later, when she went for a cup, George stopped at Sarah’s desk. “What did that nervous woman want from Helen, really?”
“You are not going to believe this.” George was exhausted. “She wanted Helen to advise her about successful bereavement confrontation.” It was ridiculous enough even without mentioning where Ann came from.
“You don’t say!” said Sarah. “So she had no clue about…Oh, poor Helen. I’ve been trying to get her on the phone at least twice a day. She never picks up.”
“Yeah. Me too. I think I’ll go and see what’s with her at lunchtime. If Ronnie calls will you tell him?”
“Yep.”
George’s visit to Helen’s wasn’t successful. It took her almost half of her lunch break to find her car keys (where she’d left them) and she almost ran over a dog as she was rushing to get there. When she arrived the house looked abandoned. No lights were on and even when she walked around it to look through the back windows she saw no one there. No one came to the door at her call and when she tried to phone she could hear, through the window, the telephone ringing in vain. Frustrated she went back to the car. If she had raised her eyes she would have seen the taxi that followed her at a safe distance all the way from The Mill. But she didn’t notice it. She had too much on her mind anyway.
Back at the surgery she thought what to tell anxious Ann if she called. Ann’s desperate eyes were burnt in her memory. She must tell Ronnie about her. Maybe there’s another way to help. Just before leaving she realised she has never managed to give Ann her number. Ann had left straight away when counselling was mentioned not even waiting for George to tell her about all the options. Another poor soul, George thought to herself, I’ll call her to see how she is. Restoring the information on the screen she picked up the phone.
“There’s no Ann here” said an old lady’s voice. “You’ve reached a hostel. We usually don’t ask for anybody’s names.” George hoped that the patient that occupied her mind since the morning gave them another name. She described her to the woman.
“Oh, her” the woman affirmed she recognised her. “She’s just left. Took all her bags and went. Good riddance if you ask me. She was even stranger than our usual guests.” The women laughed dryly and hang up.
George felt it was not her day. She looked again at the name that was flickering on her screen: Ann x. Pected. She repeated it to herself out load. Ann x Pected. Come on you idiot! Think! She was fooling us all along. Unexpected, she was indeed. George felt so stupid. She grabbed her head in despair. It seemed to be just one of those cases when the patient doesn’t really want any help and they have to chase them down for it. Well she can’t this time. The woman has left no trace. Assuming this was the last time she’d come across this unexpected person she decided to forget all about her and go home.
No. It was definitely not her day.