Caregiver Assistance (fm:threesomes, 5343 words) [2/2] show all parts
|Added: Sep 03 2018||Views / Reads: 976 / 673 [69%]||Part vote: 8.90 (10 votes)|
|The Medical Group Employee threesome has a relapse that needs more care.|
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Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!Caregiving Assistance
The Delano Medical Community (DMC) was abuzz with activity when Patrice, aka Patsy, flew across the parking lot and up to her office on the third floor of the Main Hospital. Patsy is the Head Honcho of the Registry Division. She had her mind set on the task of having to make a purchase of four new lawnmowers to replace ones that were no longer candidates for maintenance. The engines were certified as junk, the outer shells were ancient and unsafe because of the rusted, aging superstructure. Admittedly, they were ancient equipment and budget busters as failures. However, instead of lawnmowers she received phone calls. Walking through the door, without a Good Morning greeting, her Aide handed her a pink Memo marked urgent with the phone number of Dr. Evan Dorsey, Head of Trauma and the leading head trauma physician of the DMC. The Aide informed her that it was the third call and Dorsey was described as pacing the floor.
She dumped her briefcase, picked up the phone and punched 4440, Dorsey's phone number on the DMC system. He personally answered on the second ring. He said, "Dorsey here and I assume it's Patsy because it's your number. Do you have time for me this morning? Now would be good. I'll spring a tenner from the wallet and buy the coffee and Cinnabon's in the Doctor's Dining Room if you'll say yes.
She laughed to herself as she replied, "How can turn down the offer of free coffee and ten pounds of additional body fat. I'll meet you there as soon as I can bolt out of here."
He waited in the Cafeteria left far corner. A tray of two heated Cinnabon rolls with napkins, knives and forks on the table. He signaled for me to stop and get my cup of coffee. I did and then challenged the maze of tables, chairs, and bodies to reach his table. He stood, hugged me and thanked me for agreeing to meet with him without prior notice. He waved toward the Cinnabon, picked up his fork and knife and cut off a chunk. Watching me, he stuffed the chunk in his mouth, bit down on it and moaned. When his mouth was clear, he said, "These should be outlawed as addictive substances. I can't get through the morning without one."
I looked up and said, "I fight it. I go through the back entrance just to stay away from the temptation of succumbing to one on the way to the office. They are too tempting to resist if they're anywhere near." She finished the last bite, embarrassed that he was still working on his last few bites.
He waved his fork in the air and said, "I have an odd request for you. My paper to the Trauma Journal relative to the recovery of Mark and Julia has resulted in an invitation for me to address the convention in San Diego next month. I want you on the stage with me. All expenses paid. I want you to explain your reasoning of why you did what you did and why it worked. Before you answer, I want you to know that we're talking clinical reporting, nothing lascivious, and be assured that the audience will have been well informed of your involvement. This is important findings, Patsy, and the medical world needs to know. Who better to inform them than the inventor of the treatment? Think it over and let me know no later than Thursday morning. The tickets and rooms will be reserved that day. Please give it your studied consideration."
I left him with his second coffee and on the way back to my office I could only think that I had become entwined in an ‘Oh, shit!' situation over which I had no control. It ate at me all day long, distracting my decisions on a number of critical pending questions.
I had given up my apartment as had Mark. We were all residents of the family manor of Jules. If we weren't a family then families didn't exist. I could hardly wait to present them the option that Doctor Dorsey has given me. When I arrived home, Mark poured me a glass of dark Cabernet, informed me that Jules was upstairs asleep and that she had had a painful day with her broken hip. I asked what was for dinner and he smiled as he said, "Massive hamburgers grilled by the Master, me! The coals are beginning to jell, the patties are ready, the buns are in the toaster and the corn has been roasted, buttered and on the table. Go change, wake Jules, and the table will be ready for the two of you. I followed his directions. Jules wasn't a happy camper when I woke her to accompany her downstairs to dinner. On the chairlift shePlain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing
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