Dianne Drake – Italian Doctor, Full-time Father (страница 8)

“Guests? Psyche?” he snapped suddenly. “For God’s sake, Catherine. I’ve listened, ad nauseam, to your memorized speech about Aeberhard for the past hour. The spa, the pool, the hair salon, the gift shop, the catered menu, room service…If I’d wanted to go to a resort in Bern, I’d have checked myself into the hotel at Giessbachfälle. It’s larger, the amenities better and the beds more comfortable. But I’m not looking for a hotel!”

Not what she’d hoped for, but at least he was talking. It was a start. “Do you take antidepressants?” she asked, the way any good doctor would.

“You know better than that!”

“Actually, no, I don’t. In the scheme of things, Dante, I know nothing at all about you except what I’m seeing right now, which is a drastic mood swing.” She did know a little bit from the news accounts she’d read over the years, too. “So I’m obligated to ask you, do you take antidepressants or any other kind of medication that could bring about mood swings or personality changes?”

He finally looked at her, made direct eye contact, and stared, unblinking, for several seconds before he answered. “I don’t take antidepressants,” he answered, his voice totally void of expression. “Neither do I take pain medications of any sort, or anything else that might be addictive. I take vitamins, an assortment of essential minerals, and an occasional antacid before a race. I don’t consume alcohol, don’t use tobacco, don’t eat fried foods. Anything else you’d like to know, Doctor?”

He was so defiant, so angry. Perhaps he’d have been better off going somewhere else, somewhere without the obvious emotional friction she seemed to be causing. That was her concern as a doctor coming out, of course, and not her personal need to be rid of him. “You don’t have to stay here, and maybe it would be better if you didn’t. I’ll be glad to make arrangements to have you taken to another facility. There’s an excellent clinic in Frankfurt, which isn’t so far away, and we have a reciprocal arrangement with them.”

“And I could have gone there, had I not chosen Aeberhard. But I wanted Aeberhard initially, and I’ll stay here.”

“Exactly why did you choose Aeberhard, Dante?” Catherine asked.

“You think it’s because of you?”

“It’s an odd coincidence so, yes, that did cross my mind.”

He shook his head. “Reputation. That’s all. You put skiers back into shape all the time. Do a nice job of it, actually. My injury is like what a skier might sustain. Also, this is closer to my home than any of the other places, so it made perfect sense for me to come here. At the time!

Meaning that now, at this time, it didn’t. Well, he was right about that. It didn’t make sense to her, either. But what made even less sense was his insistence on staying. Too much water had flowed under the bridge for this to be anything but uncomfortable.

Catherine turned her focus to the castle in the distance, rather than staring back at Dante. His scrutiny made her nervous. It was like he was trying to read something in her, trying to probe deeper than he had a right to. Breaking the contact of his stare might make that jittery feeling skittering through her right now stop. “Just so you know, your X-rays are fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, which is why I called your previous doctor, to see what was going on. He told me you haven’t been the model patient in the past two clinics you’ve been in. You checked out early, went home, injured yourself again. Both times. They didn’t want you back. Both times.”

A slight smile cracked his face, a smile barely noticeable on his lips but quite apparent in his eyes. If she’d been looking. Which she was not. “And I didn’t want to go back. Both times. Simple as that.”

“With you it’s never as simple as that. You always had an agenda, Dante. I can’t imagine that has changed. In fact, I’m curious about your agenda in demanding that I be your physician. My guess is you mean to harass me because Friedrich Rilke is brilliant, and anybody with an ankle injury should want him rather than me, as that’s his specialty. Then there’s Dr Aeberhard, the best in the world. Yet you insist on me, which sounds like an agenda, as your choice goes against common sense.”

“My choice sounds like a patient exerting a measure of control over his treatment. I always advocated that, Catherine. Always insisted that the doctor be a partner to the patient, not a medical dictator. That’s the way the best medicine should work.”

She twisted to look at him and noticed that his eyes sparked for a moment. It had happened before, when he’d mentioned medicine. Did Dante miss it? “You’re suggesting that we be partners. But shouldn’t partners get along?”

“I recall a time when we did.” His tone lost its sharp edge for a instant. “And don’t dismiss your abilities. You’re good. I trust you to do what’s best in my medical care.”

“Oh, I don’t dismiss my abilities, Dante. But you’d still be better off with Friedrich. If my ankle needed mending, he’s the only one I’d go to.” Catherine’s voice was stiff. Dante couldn’t help but hear the discomfort there because she could hear it herself.

“I’d be better off with the partner I choose, and I choose you. Like I said before, it’s as simple as that.”

“And like I said before, nothing’s that simple with you, Dante.” Their gazes drifted together for a moment, stayed fixed for a short time before both of them glanced away.

“Why the resort atmosphere, Catherine? And why would you choose to practice this kind of medicine? You were always so traditional.”

“Dr Aeberhard, the founder of the clinic, believes that true healing has as much to do with non-medical issues as it does medical ones. He believes that a comfortable resort atmosphere is better suited to rehabilitation medicine than a hospital atmosphere would be.”

“Do you?”

She finally turned to face him fully, surprised that all the edge and anger was gone from his voice. His scowl had vanished too, and the man sitting there, looking at her, was…Dante. Simply Dante, being interested in medicine the way he’d once been. “Actually, yes, I do. Back in Boston, when we…when I was doing my residency, then later, when I took my first real position, it was in a typical rehab hospital facility. Looked like a hospital, smelt like a hospital, functioned like a hospital, with all the regular hospital accouterments. We had good results, but there didn’t seem to be anything spectacular happening. People came in broken, went out fixed. You know, typical course of treatment. When I arrived here, at Aeberhard, it was very different. People were happy. They recovered more quickly. In my opinion, a good many of the recoveries seemed more complete, and I knew there had to be a correlation between Dr Aeberhard’s philosophies and the results I was seeing. It was exciting, Dante. This was a whole new medical concept for me, and I fell in love with it.”

“You look happy,” he said, actually sounding pleased about it.

“I am. It’s a perfect situation for me.” Had Dante found his perfect situation in auto racing? Judging from the way he acted, from all the stress she saw on his face and strain she heard in his voice, it didn’t seem so. Of course, there might be other issues pressing on him…such as his child. Or a woman…a wife. “Look, Dante, your healing seems to be right on course. And you’re lucky, considering that you’ve reinjured yourself since the initial injury and surgery. So the problem is just the healing process, which you seem to undermine.”

He shifted his gaze off her to the outside. And straightened his shoulders. “Unfortunate accident.”

“Remember, I talked to your other doctor,” she said, her voice gentle. “I do know what happened. You went home too early, did too many things he’d told you not to do. It’s not easy being laid up the way you are, and I understand that. But you can’t keep going against medical advice.”

“Just one person’s opinion.”

“Two, actually. Two very good surgeons—the original one who repaired you and the one who repaired you after you reinjured yourself. Both dismissed you as a patient when you went against their orders.” A symptom of his fast lifestyle? Fast cars, fast women? Did he think he was impervious to the inevitable repercussions?

Her father had thought that, and it had gotten him killed.

“It was taking too long. I should have been up and about much sooner. They weren’t pushing me hard enough, and I don’t have months and months to spend on recovery. I need it…faster.”

“Is that a medical diagnosis?” she asked. “Because, as I recall, you were a general surgeon, not an orthopedic or rehabilitation specialist.”

“You know what they say…that doctors make the worst patients.”

“Except you’re a race-car driver who’s on the verge of losing a career if he doesn’t follow his doctor’s orders. It’s just that critical now. If you injure yourself again, there’s no guarantee you’ll ever walk normally, Dante. More than that, you might lose your ability to drive competitively. And while I’m not going so far as to say these were self-inflicted injuries, they were caused because you didn’t listen. Or you thought you knew more than your doctors did.”