How to Tango a Patient our of your Office

None of the characters are mine. I am just having a little bit of fun.

Part One

The name in the diary appeared to loom larger than the others, although in reality it was written in exactly the same sized, neat script that Dr Sarah Ronson always used in her paper diary. The secretaries repeatedly tried to get her to go digital but she refused. She liked to hold things in her hand and know exactly what she was doing. Hilary had argued that she could hold an electronic tablet in her hand just as well as a paper diary but Sarah had grinned goofily and shrugged, handing over a photocopy of her appointments so that Hilary could put them on to the computer. Luckily for Sarah the secretaries liked her and did this task as a favour to her with little complaint but Sarah had witnessed an almighty show down between Hilary and another therapist a few months ago because he refused to do the same. Hilary had won the argument of course but she still put Sarah's appointments in for her on the quiet. Sarah was sure that it was because Hilary sympathized with her for being a single mother.

Ten year old Edward was a little charmer and all the women at the Medical Centre adored him. Sarah was looking for High Schools for him to attend and every time she thought about it tears would well because she could not believe that they were already at this stage.

But today she had other things on her mind. Today she had to dump a patient. Through the difficult decision she had fixated on one thing. Was it better to do it first thing in the morning or last appointment in the evening? Once she made her decision she had told a lie to her client and asked her to attend an appointment at six o'clock the following week. This request had been met with some surprise but not rejected and now Sarah stood at her desk, bent over at the waist, taking some deep breaths.

The phone buzzed and she picked it up.

'Your next client is here,' Hilary's voice said.

'Thanks,' Sarah replaced the telephone and righted herself. She tucked her shirt into her slimline trousers then checked her reflection in a hand held mirror.

She walked slowly to the door hoping the sick feeling in her stomach would go away but it was still there when she went to the waiting room.

Caroline McKenzie-Dawson looked up at her and a smile of recognition crossed her face.

Oh God, Sarah thought. But to the outside world she smiled and motioned for Caroline to follow her.

She turned away as her client uncrossed her legs and picked up the Chanel handbag that sat at her feet.

'Why are you running?' Caroline joked when she caught up with Sarah who was standing, holding the door to her office open.

'Was I?' Sarah tried to sound normal but her voice was strangled. 'Sit down,' she instructed.

Caroline looked at her mystified.

'Are you alright Doctor?' Caroline began to slip off her coat.

'Yes, I'm fine,' Sarah said brusquely.

She had prepared for this hadn't she? So why did she feel so sick? The conversation with her therapist had gone reasonably well. It was never nice having to admit that you were fallible but Dr Finella Linton had smiled graciously and told Sarah that it happened to the best of them all. There was sometimes, simply nothing that you could do about it.

'How has your week been?' Sarah asked a little more gently.

'Busy,' Caroline was guarded as she watched Sarah closely.

Sarah nodded. That was all that she did. Inclined her head a couple of times.

'Is everything alright?'

Astute as ever – Sarah mused.

'Caroline,' she began.

'Oh dear,' the blonde woman in front of her sat back heavily in the chair and wore the expression of a person expecting bad news.

'There is another therapist that works at the practice that I think would be able to offer you better support than I can.'

There – she had said it. It was not the truth but she had made inroads.

'What therapist?' the blue eyes were incredulous.

'His name is Dr Phillip Langley and he has more experience in this area than I have,' Sarah knew it sounded weak. She suspected that Caroline would see right through it.

'How can he be more qualified in listening?' Caroline snapped. 'That's all you're doing – listening.'

'Well,' Sarah shifted in her seat. 'He has more experience with grief counseling and…'

'I don't want to see Dr Langley,' Caroline looked tearful. 'It took me long enough to pluck up the courage to come here and see you.'

Sarah felt like her heart was going to break. 'Caroline, I'm sorry but my workload is…'

'It's fine,' Caroline wiped furiously at her nose and began to pull on her coat.

'Caroline, please wait a minute,' Sarah rose from her seat but it was pointless.

Caroline picked up her handbag and was out of the door.

'Shit!' Sarah turned and banged her fist on the desk.

That could not have gone worse.