sighed and said, “Okay, I’m okay now.”
“You told me you were better,” she said with an anguished expression on her face.
“I am better.”
She stomped her right foot. “No, you’re not. It sounds to me like you have an ulcer or something. I’m going to call Eve and see if she can recommend a doctor. God knows you never went to one in your life.”
He looked at her and knew she was serious. “Don’t. Not for the next few days. I swear I’ll take these antacids and then we’ll go. I can’t take time off because I need to get this deck thing going. It’s a big job, and we need the cash.”
“Listen to yourself.” What will we do if something happens to you?”
“The pain’s going away,” he said. “Like I said, I’ll take the antacids every day, and as soon as I finish the job I’ll let you call Eve. I promise.”
She could see a less anxious expression on his face. “Okay, that’s a promise,” she said.
He shrugged, and went back to the basement. Moments later, he let out a scream and ran back upstairs holding his left hand with his right.
She said, “What happened?”
“C-can’t believe it,” he stammered, as he waved his thumb in the air. The nail was dark blue. “Hit my thumb with that damn hammer.”
She reached for his hand. “Ouch. You’ve got blood under the nail. It’s got to hurt like hell.”
“Yeah,” he grimaced.
“We’re going to the emergency room. You’ve got to get that blood out of there or you’ll lose the nail. Let’s go. Maybe your finger’s broken.”
He offered no opposition as the pain was intense.
The Emergency room doctor drilled a small hole in the nail. George watched with surprise as a six inch high geyser of blood shot forth, and with it instant pain relief. An X-ray revealed no evidence of fracture. The doctor bandaged his wound and gave him instructions.
The following week proved uneventful, though he experienced intermittent abdominal discomfort. He said nothing to Gail and kept taking the antacids. After the discomfort turned into such severe burning that it woke him up two nights in a row, he agreed to have Gail call Eve.
CHAPTER 4
Gail was active in her church and greeted all new members. When Eve moved to her neighborhood, she joined the church and they became fast friends. Gail expressed the urgency of George’s recurrent symptoms to Eve. “It’s not like him,” Gail said, “He’s changed. He complained of pain in the abdomen that he prefers to ignore. One night he vomited and I saw him stumble and was unsteady on his feet.”
Eve said, “He should be seen by an internist. Since I’ve been at Covenant, I met a very fine one. He has an excellent reputation not only as a good doctor, but he has a great bedside manner. I see how he makes rounds on his patients. He’s young and board certified and up on the latest medical advances.”
“That sounds good,” said Eve. What’s his name and number?”
“Doctor Burt Crowell. Let me call him for you. When do you want your husband seen?”
“You can do this?”
“Try me.”
“Oh, my goodness, you have such clout already. You can never talk to a doctor these days when you call. You get a computer. I know from my kids. And you can make the appointment? Sounds kinda suspicious to me, Eve.”
“Now now, Gail, let’s not jump to conclusions. You let me handle it. When do want the appointment?”
“George has a day off on Thursday.”
“I’ll call you later and give you your time.”
“What if he’s busy? This is such short notice?”
“I’m sure he’ll do me the favor. Trust me, Gail.”
“What’s the doctor’s name?” asked Gail.
“Crowell, Dr. Burt Crowell.”
Eve was as good as her word, and when George arrived at the office in the doctor’s building of Covenant hospital, the receptionist handed him a four-page medical history form to fill out. He minimized his problem, jotting down stomach pain on a question labeled chief complaint.
After about twenty minutes, George met the doctor. He shook his hand. At about five feet and ten inches, the doctor was impressive. A former baseball player in college, it was clear that he was making every effort to maintain the same musculature he had in his playing days. His white coat could not mask the circumference of his upper arms. His hair was brown as were his eyes. He had a cleft in the center of his chin. There was a warm smile on his face.
George had avoided doctors all his adult life, but he was impressed with the demeanor of this man.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Gilmer. How can I help?”
“I’ve got stomach pains, and my wife nagged me until I would see you.”
A typical story, Burt thought. Women come in on their own. A man’s wife usually drags him in. Burt checked the medical history form while keeping a watchful eye on his new patient who was sitting at the edge of the examining table abutting the windowed back wall. He noted his patient fidgeting with his hands, his eyes darting all around the room. Burt sat down on a stool in front of a desk and side chair adjacent to a built in sink. He had seen similar behavior from other male patients.
“Where’s the pain located?” Burt asked taking a medical history, which he viewed as the most important part of the medical evaluation.
“Here.” George pointed below his breastbone.
“Is the pain persistent, or does it come and go?”
“It comes and goes.”
“Does it stay in the middle of your stomach, or can you feel it other places in your abdomen or in your back?”
“Stays right there,” George said, pointing to the same location
“Can you describe the pain? Does it feel sharp like a knife, or a burning, dull, gnawing, or achy kind of pain?”
George thought for a moment before he said, “Mostly dull and gnawing, but sometimes burning.”
“Is there anything that makes the pain go away?”
“Yeah, I take these antacids,” he said as he took them out of his pocket to show the doctor.
Burt looked at them and nodded his head. “On a scale of one to ten with one the least and ten the most you could possibly stand what number would you assign to the pain?”
“Mostly four or five, but one time it felt like an eight.”
“Does
