Chapter Two
Will
As an osteopath, it had taken me longer to get to this point than the average MD. I actually did have my MD, having taken the exam and qualified for both, but my heart lay with the more holistic side of my training.
Still, it was best to be armed with all when treating patients.
That said, as the only osteopath in our neighborhood, my days were full.
I tried to arrange my schedule in a reasonable way so that I could go home in time for dinner, but in truth, it rarely happened.
And by the time I did finish up and got to the car, I was too tired to even stop by my club and burn off the stress of the day. But I kept trying…and failing.
A huge loss because that left a big part of my soul wanting.
My nurse stuck her head into my office. “Just two more patients.”
I glanced at the clock and grimaced. Seven p.m. “Thanks, Gennie.” Technically, I could go to Chained; nothing really got going until nine or so in most of the club, but the part I liked tended to get started earlier.
It was also one of the most energetic areas, filled with littles and their caregivers, lots of fun activities, games, and snacks.
As a daddy, the little room at Chained was more home than the house I lived in, where sometimes the silence grew loud.
In a lonely moment, I’d considered adopting a dog, but how cruel would it be to leave them alone all day?
Instead, I made a donation to a local shelter, paying adoption fees for several others who could do a better job of taking care of their pup or cat.
My patient came in and sat in front of my desk, and I brought up their chart on my tablet and prepared to discuss their care.
An osteopath was a lot more hands-on than the average MD, and a lot of factors went into their treatment plan.
This patient had been seeing me for several years, so our meeting didn’t take long, the treatment already mostly laid out.
But the second was a new person, and I would never rush anyone.
They deserved my full attention and every bit of my skill to help with their ailments.
I walked the first patient out and greeted the second in the waiting room. I had a short vacation coming up and had almost canceled it today because I had no plans.
Two hours later, I was on my way home, a bag of fast food I’d tell my patients never to eat, on the seat beside me. I liked to think I was in good health, but since I hadn’t been to the gym in months and rarely cooked myself a meal, eventually, it was going to wear me down.
Parking in the underground garage, I took the elevator up to my apartment. Not the penthouse—far too showy and a bit more than I wanted to spend—but two floors below still gave me a great view from my balcony.
Stepping outside, I carried my dinner to the café table and sat down.
It was no little room, but the twinkling lights below offered a perspective I didn’t get during the day.
My office was a place of healing, but it could also be overwhelming sometimes.
I had so many patients to see. The time was blocked out and another doctor filling in for me.
He’d be coming in from out of town, and his plans were already made.
I needed to take a few days and unwind. Probably a lot of places, but I was already hating going home alone. Where could I go just to relax? How much would I hate sitting in a hotel room somewhere by myself?
Dipping fries in ketchup, I considered my options. I could stay in town and go to the club, which would be amazing, but I just had a feeling I’d end up going in to the office every day. That feeling came from having had exactly that experience the year before when I scheduled a vacation.
Finished with my food, I carried the trash inside and placed it in the bin under the sink then headed for the shower. The greasy burger already began to sit heavy in my stomach, and I crawled into bed, just another night like all the others.
As I lay there listening to my grumbling stomach, a friend texted to invite me on a fishing trip. He sent pictures of a gorgeous shimmering lake with people pulling fish as long as their forearms out of the water.
Several of us are going up there. We’ve rented a house and would love you to join. We don’t see enough of you, old friend.
When is it?