The Doctor Returns

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“Lie back,” he said as he expertly gathered the blood-testing equipment, tightened a tourniquet around her arm and inserted the needle into the engorged vein. When he finished, he released the tourniquet and carefully put the blood samples in a webbed plastic box. He took the diabetic testing unit off the shelf next to the exam table. “Hold out your finger.”

“You don’t think I have diabetes.”

“Let’s see,” he said, his tone offering her no choice but to comply with his request.

She watched as if in a dream, her mind racing over the possibilities, apprehension flooding her thoughts.

He checked the meter. His jaw tightened. “Your blood sugar is 432.”

She was stunned. It had to be a mistake.

“Wait right here,” he ordered, leaving the room only to return with a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”

She sipped the water, feeling the coolness of it all the way down to her stomach. It felt so good. She didn’t realize how thirsty she was until Neill returned with another glass filled to the brim. She drank that also.

“Do you have a ketone meter around here?” he asked.

“No. We did have one, but we ran out of strips. The clinic budget is pretty tight. We don’t use them very often and they often go past their due date on us. If the doctor wants ketones done, we send the patient to the lab.”

Neill observed her closely. “So let’s run through this. You’ve lost weight. Your blood sugar is high. You’re hungry, and you’re tired most of the time. And now you’re dizzy and feeling nauseated. I’m ordering a full workup on you. It may be that your symptoms are due to type one diabetes.”

“Type one? No, it can’t be. Young people get type one.” His words hit hard, and her head swam as her dizziness returned. The glass nearly slipped from her fingers as she clutched the edge of the exam table and steadied her breathing.

There had to be some mistake. Surely she would have had some warning. She was a nurse and knew the symptoms.

Like a kaleidoscope, the past few weeks flashed and mutated before her eyes. She had been so tired and listless, hungry and thirsty, going to the bathroom a lot more than normal. She’d assumed that it was because of the long hours she’d been putting in at work—if she thought about it at all.

Neill had to be wrong. Her mother depended on her. Her cousin Anna, a single mom, needed her to help with the boys. She didn’t have time to deal with a serious health issue, and certainly not one as complicated as diabetes. “That can’t be. I’m healthy. A little tired, but otherwise fine.”

“Didn’t you recently have a pretty severe bout of the flu?” he asked.

She knew what he was getting at. Type one diabetes was often preceded by a viral illness. “About a month ago I had flu symptoms, but they only lasted a couple of days...I think.” It was hard to remember given how busy she’d been with her job and her plans.

He took her hand, his touch warm as his gentle smile entwined itself around her heart. “Let’s do the workup and be sure.”

“You’re not thinking of admitting me to the hospital, are you?” she asked, aghast at the idea that he’d even consider such a thing and equally determined to stop him. “All the necessary blood work can be done from my doctor’s office.”

He turned his high-powered gaze on her in that inquisitive way of his. “Normally, I’d agree. Do you live alone?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling that she’d exposed her private life to him, shown him that she had no one special in her life. It was true, but it was also none of his business.

“Then I’d like to admit you to hospital while I do the workup. I want to know you’re safe.”

“Safe?” she asked, shocked at his words.

“Sherri, you nearly passed out sitting at your desk. I’m concerned that you could be in ketoacidosis. You had no idea your blood sugar was so high, and we don’t know how long this has been going on. I need to see your full blood chemistry. As you know there’s always a danger of a coma in these circumstances.”

“Neill.” Rarely had she spoken his first name aloud since he’d returned to Eden Harbor, yet it left her lips with such ease. “All that’s wrong is I’m exhausted and I’m starving. Once I have a good meal, I’m certain I’ll be fine.”

“Listen to your doctor,” he said, a teasing but kind note in his voice. “I’m not prepared to take chances with you. I’ll admit you, and it will only take a couple of days to sort out what’s happening.”