Chapter One, Episode 63 - Dr. Jeremy - Episode 63 - Situationally Theirs

Dr. Jeremy

Dr. Jeremy Crawford, long time general surgeon, plucked a rose from Emelina’s garden. He looked at the rose, then at Emelina and back at the rose. “Just a minute Jeremy.” She disappeared into the mudroom. The noise of drawers being opened and rummaged through distracted everyone waiting to see their friend off as though he were leaving for another continent. 

“Here. Let me fix that for you.” Emelina trimmed the rose stem while Jeremy nursed his thorn-ravaged thumb. She slipped the rose through his lapel button hole. “There.” She patted him gently. 

“Don’t you think you’re a little too close, Mrs. Beaufort.” Jeremy smiled wickedly. 

Emmie stepped back, but returned Jeremy's smile and coyly said “Probably, but if you don’t tell, I won’t, Dr. Crawford.”

Ignoring this tender little scene, Martha and James called out from the veranda. “Good bye and drive safely!”

"Don’t you be a stranger, Dr. Crawford. You know I’ll always set you down to a good hearty meal. You have that chicken sandwich and  lentil soup for your supper. And there’s a piece of pie in there too." Jeremy was peering into the brown paper bag that Cook handed him. "The meringue will be a little squished, but it’ll still taste good. See that you eat it all."

Emmie took the bag from him, rolled up the top as Jeremy licked the meringue from his fingers. “See you soon, Jeremy. You’ve always got a meal and a bed out here, Jeremy." She turned him towards his car. "Remember.....you have a late shift tonight. But, when you want a break from your busy hospital life, please come out and rest. There’s usually somebody here, but text me and I’ll make sure of it.” 

Jeremy was very reluctant to leave. He felt more rested than he had for…….he couldn’t remember when. But duty called. He had to leave by noon to get into town, have a short sleep and a quick supper - thanks to Cook - and be at the hospital by 10 p.m. He knew there was at least one surgery already scheduled. It was a late shift and he knew he was getting too old for those kind of hours, but he did love the late shifts. Not so many people rushing around. During the day, there were porters pushing stretchers laden with a sick man, woman or child on their way to X-ray or some diagnostic lab. Slow moving, heavily laden linen carts stacked high with sheets, pyjamas and towels. Lab techs with their rolling carts of tourniquets, vials and cotton balls. Technicians from ECG with their neat little carts of spaghettied wires and leads, rolls of ECG graph paper, tubes of the goop to attach the electrodes. And the supervisors and administrators! Busy poking their bureaucratic noses into important medical or nursing work to make sure that all the i’s were dotted and t’s were crossed. The late shifts just didn’t have all that turmoil. There were still necessary issues to be taken care of and with the same urgency, but not the frenetic energy of Monday to Friday daytime shifts. 

Behind the wheel of his 2018 Porsche Boxster, he laughed at himself. He had purchased this little beauty when they first came out as a…..what…….as a fix. He had been working hard, too hard and his bank balance showed it. He seldom did much more than be at work. He practically haunted the halls of Hartley General. Even when he was off shift. Going home was too difficult because it was so lonely. First, he had moved from the house that he and Elaine had shared for 40 years into one of the brand new high-rises on the edge of Hartley. He was comfortable and enjoyed setting up a single life. But soon the apartment just echoed. As he unpacked, and very slowly, he kept finding pictures of Elaine. Some little trinket of Elaine’s that he had never liked, but she did. He put them away in a box and shoved it to the back of his closet. And then he saw a picture of the Porsche…a convertible Porsche Boxster….silver and shiny. That would fix this black hole in his gut. After two years, it was still a joy to drive but that hole in his insides was still there. Until last night and this morning. That's when he knew he’d be back. Not just for Cook’s food but to feel the space and the closeness that he had felt from the moment he heard Emelina’s voice. 

The drive into Hartley was a short one. The night ahead of him would be a long one. At least now he had that funny, warm family to ground him in what is good in this sick world. He set the rose gently into water in a crystal glass.

“Memory believes before knowing remembers.”

~ William Faulkner,  Light in August