Rx

Letting Pauline Lamb know that we were going to have a baby was almost as good as broadcasting it by megaphone or calling every telephone in the village. In no time at all the surgery phone was ringing incessantly, reception was stacked two deep by time-wasters and those with imagined illnesses, and there was s steady stream of villagers 'just passing by to say hello.'

Louisa, as I expected kept her grace, while I glowered and made muffled or not so muffled comments about busy bodies, snoops, and gossips. I managed to get Louisa up to bed and practically had to barricade the bedroom door to keep people away from her. I was forced to make an announcement to the packed crowd. "Miss Glasson is resting and will not be disturbed! Do you understand?"

Louisa's voice floated from downstairs. "Martin, not so loud!"

To a chorus of sniggers and laughs, I retreated to my consulting room. "Next patient!"

What tore it was when Bert Large shuffled in complaining of serious neck pain and then proceeded to tell me about baby bathing, diapering, and the proper kinds of prepared baby foods (although he recommended home made).

When he started nattering on about breast feed I almost struck him. "Bert! The baby will not be born for six months yet and I, and Louisa, WE, do not need advice from the town's former plumber, nascent restaurateur!"

He rocked back in his chair. "But Doc, I thought you might want the benefit of my years of hard won experience." He sniffed. "Since I had to raise little Al on my own, and seems to reason that you been handing out advice of all kinds, mostly medical, since you got here and now it's YOUR turn to listen!"

"Get out!" I showed him the door.

"Doc, look, we all care for Louisa and believe it or not we care for you too! I know things can get all mucked up at times, but where would we be without you? Hmm? I bet there's a dozen villagers that would be pushing up daisies if not for you."

"Bert, leave now," I said through gritted teeth.

"But what about my neck?" He twisted it a full hundred and eighty degrees from side to side. "It don't feel right!"

I propelled the fat man to the door. "I'll tell you what's not right, Bert! It's you wasting my time when there are real patients waiting to be seen!"

"Oh?" He turned to the packed waiting room. "Let's have a show of hands for who here are really ailing? Come on!"

Two hands went up and I sagged. Taking the bit in my teeth I marched forward. "Now look, here's the thing…" their greedy eyes looking for gossip looked up at me. "I, uhm… we…"

Bert patted my shoulder chuckling. "All right, folks, show's over. Get on home! He ain't in the mood."

They stood and trooped away leaving Mrs. Pinkle and Mr. Dash. Dash had dense cataracts and a heart murmur and needed eye surgery but was afraid to schedule and Alison Pinkle was an ancient crone who'd buried four husbands and was the mother of seven. I was treating her for an ulcerated toe due to poor circulation.

"Who's next then?"

Pauline handed a pack of notes to Alison. "You're next."

She wobbled to her feet and shuffled in wearing bedroom mules on her feet and three pairs of socks.

I glared at her feet. "Mrs. Tinkle, uhm, Pinkle, those seem inappropriate footwear for the rainy weather!"

"Oh, pish," she said and rapped my desk hard with her cane. "I couldn't be bothered to change from my inside shoes to my outside shoes!"

I curled my lip and peeled the wet things off her foot, finding the digits to be cold and white. "Mrs. Pinkle! I specifically told you to keep your feet warm and dry!" I lifted her foot and found the ulcer had grown. I sighed and scanned her notes. "Last time I checked your blood sugar it was elevated. Pauline!"

Pauline clumped in. "Yeah?"

"I need a blood sample. I suspect Mrs. Pinkle is developing diabetes."

Pauline cracked her gum. "I'll get my stuff." She came back and prepared to draw blood. "How are you Alison?"

"Fine, Pauline. So, what's new?"

Pauline looked up furtively at me. "Nothing much."

"I thought for sure you'd be telling me about Doc Martin and Louisa Glasson!" The old woman's eyes twinkled at me while I tried not to react. "She's got a bun in the oven."

"Where'd you hear that?" I asked angrily. "It's none of your business! Pauline I asked you not to tell…"

"Oh," Alison smiled, "I heard it at the Farmer's Market, and from Dave the Postie, and I think Mike Chubb mentioned it. So no not from Pauline."

I sagged in my chair and bit my tongue.

"Did you think you could keep it secret?" she cackled. "In a village of 956 people?"

Pauline sniffed as she put a plaster on the wound from her needle. "There you go." She looked at me. "Anything else?"

"Uhm, the usual screen, especially for cholesterol but the blood sugar I can do here." I lifted a test strip and dropped a single drop from the used needle on it, feeling myself gag at the sight.

"Lord, Doc! What will you do when the baby's born? It is yours I hear." Mrs. Pinkle teased.

"Miss Glasson, uhm…" I tried not to retch. I compared the test strip to the chart. "Your blood sugar is high; higher than I'd like. What have you been eating?"

"Well, I had my three cuppas and some sweet rolls and a leftover piece of birthday cake."

"So most of your diet today is composed of fats and sugars?" I sneered. "No wonder your blood sugar is elevated! I've told you to eat a healthy diet!" I grabbed my pad and began to write. "I am prescribing a fasting blood test to determine if your pancreas is working properly. Given the signs - the blood sugar - and the ulcerated toe I'd say you may be bordering on diabetes."

"The sugar?"

This is what the locals called diabetes. "Yes."

She sighed. "Me mum had it and my gran, and da too. And grand-dad. And my two sisters. But not my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Dead - hit by a motorcycle."

I sighed. "Given the family history…"

"Now Doc! About Louisa. You're not married."

"No, uhm, we didn't do that."

The old crone cackled wickedly. "But you did do something?"

"None of your business," I bristled.

"You listen to me now Doc Martin, I am an old woman and I seen and done a lot. Gave birth to seven babies, four lived, and I buried four husbands. I was preggers two times afore I was hitched and that was with Alf and Tim. Didn't happen with Bill or Larry cause we wuz too old." She smiled. "Most of the girls in this village, way back, old times you know, was in the family way afore we got to the church - if we got to the church."

"It's… well, yes, given the lack of useful contraceptive measures…"

She rapped my glass desk. "Doc do you love this girl?"

Her question made my stop. "Uhm, well… we, erh… None of your business."

A liver-spotted hand touched mine. "Now you just finish writin' that fancy scrip so I can call my grand-daughter and get off to Wadebridge for the tests." She stood and took the scrip in hand. "Cause if you love her, that's all that matters, right? That's the only medicine you'll need. Cheers."

The old woman stumped out and as I prepared to listen to the heart murmur of my next patient, I pondered her advice. It didn't make me feel any less guilty for my part in our mutual disaster. I had made her pregnant, and willing partner or not, we in it up to our necks.

Late in the day I opened the door of the pharmacy to get the weekly supplies, since Pauline had conveniently forgotten them once more, but she did take the medical packages to the post office. Mrs. Tishell had her head bent down over the glass counter peering intently through the glass and murmuring. She seemed to be counting.

"Mrs. Tishell," I announced, "since my receptionist cannot seem to remember, I have come to pick up the supplies I ordered."

She sprang up, flushed about the face and neck. "Oh, Doctor! I was wondering when you might come by!" She fluttered around the counter, hands pressed together and head canted to one side as if in supplication.

"What's wrong with your neck?"

"My neck?"

I pointed. "You have you head cocked to one side. Have you injured yourself beyond the long term neck injury?" She had worn her foam collar for decades.

"No… no. I was taking a bath and got water in my ear and it won't come out is all. So I been holding it sideways so it will drain."

"Water in the ear will resolve."

"What?" she shouted.

"WATER IN THE EAR…"

"Stop!" she relaxed. "Oh, there it goes." She dug her pinky into the affected ear. "Now what can I do for you Doctor Ellingham?"

"Pauline was to pick up supplies and did not. You should have a package." I sniffed the air for there was a flowery scent about.

She stared at me dumbfounded. "Package, a package," she reached and brushed at my suit coat. She shook herself. "A bit of fluff. Don't you hate that?"

"What?" I looked down but didn't see any fuzz in her hand, which she quickly put behind her back.

She sighed. "No, I thought not." She leaned languidly back against the counter. "You know, I still have tea biscuits. Jammy dodgers, hob nobs, lemon cream gingers? I think those are my favorites, plenty of creamy filling. Or are you a hob nob man? I could change my preference - whatever you'd like."

"Mrs. Tishell I did not come to the pharmacy to discuss biscuits or any other sort of foodstuffs."

"How about a toffee sponge soaked with luscious butterscotch sauce? I like to double the amount of sauce, make it rich and gooey…" she began to run her hands from her neck across her body. "Thick and tasty? Would like that?"

I held out a hand and snapped my fingers. "My supplies." I fished out a list. "Here - nitrile gloves, powdered, KY jelly, nasal spray, glycerin suppositories, and sterile wipes. Now!"

Mrs. Tishell straightened up and nodded. "Of course, Doctor. You can have it your way or any way?"

I sighed and checked my watch. "Can you please hurry? I have to get to the fish market before it closes. Miss Glasson will be home soon. She had a meeting with Mr. Strain and the other teachers this afternoon. My turn to prepare our supper."

"Miss Glasson?" Mrs. Tishell smiled coyly. "My that is formal, Doctor. Miss Glasson?"

"Ahm, Louisa… then."

She winked at me. "You can call her whatever you like." Now she looked away and bit at her lip. "I understand that Louisa is with child."

I nodded. "Yes."

"Your child?"

"It just so happens that it is. Now may I please have my medical supplies?"

Her face looked crestfallen but then her words took on a sharp edge. "You are sure? I mean she was up in London for weeks and I expect someone the likes of her…" she winked, "would have no trouble at all finding companionship, if you know what I mean. You do know that I heard…"

I didn't hear anymore of her nattering as my mobile rang. I fished it out and answered. "Ellingham."

"Mart? It's Chris Parsons."

"I'm busy Chris," I told him.

"I just heard! Diana and I are over the moon about it!"

"What have you heard?" I asked suspiciously and in a whisper.

"You went up to London and brought Louisa back to Portwenn! Why? Is there something else you want to tell me?" Chris Parsons was likely my oldest friend, if I had friends, but he was my boss in the PCT first and foremost.

I glanced at Mrs. Tishell who seemed to be giving me a very cross look so I ignored it. "Mrs. Tishell, you round up those supplies and I'll get them tomorrow morning." I turned to the door and had my hand on it when I heard a sad voice behind me.

"Bye Doc," Mrs. Tishell told me. She waved with a limp hand. "But you'll be back. I'm sure you will."

I went thru the door to the street. "Yes Chris, Louisa Glasson has returned to Portwenn with me."

"And she's with you; in your house?"

I sighed. "Why in heaven's name do people find it so hard to understand that Louisa has come back to this back-of-beyond village and is living with me?" I was almost yelling and got dirty looks from passersby.

Chris laughed. "Whoa, Mart! Full stop! I'm just glad is all - really happy for you! Diana says to tell her welcome back and we'll have dinner soon; perhaps this weekend? That alright with the great diagnostician?"

I stopped and felt anger fade. Chris was just being friendly. "I'll have to talk to Louisa about it. She's not been well lately, especially when it comes to eating."

"Something you can't cure, Mart?" he laughed.

I backed against the wall of the pharmacy and out of the corner of my eye caught Mrs. Tishell giving me an expectant look. "Chris, you should know…" I stopped for with the entire village of Portwenn knowing of the impending offspring, I should tell Chris. "I… well, uhm…"

"Cat got you tongue Mart?"

I closed my eyes and felt nausea growing, almost like a panic attack. I managed to get some control. "Louisa and I… we, uhm…"

"What's up? Something's wrong? Is she moving back to London for you mistreated that sweet girl?"

"No. Chris."

"What in the God's name is it? For someone who could rip the hide off a clumsy consultant with three words I don't know how you can be so… awkward when it comes to Louisa Glasson!"

I sighed. "Louisa's is expecting."

"What?

"You heard me."

"You said… you said! My GOD! She's pregnant?"

"I did."

"That's bloody fantastic! Wait, I have to tell Diana!" I heard mumbled words and then female shriek in the background. "You must be ecstatic! You're getting married, right? This might be just the medicine the two of you needed! You will won't you? Get hitched?"

I sneered at my mobile. Medicine? It was the most bitter pill I might imagine to take for an unplanned pregnancy at our ages was… was… both galling and embarrassing.

"Mart? Hey old man, congrats…" Chris yelled as I snapped the phone closed.