Chapter 21

He kept on looking indecisively towards Louisa. She could sense that something was troubling him, so she kept quiet and waited for him to make his decision.

"I don't know if I really want to know, and I don't know if you know – but, why am I a GP?"

"As I understand, your father was a doctor, too, so I presume…"

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, obviously I had been a vascular surgeon until a few years ago. You're not a surgeon one day and a GP the other without reason. Did I, I mean – was I responsible for…?"

"No, Martin, you haven't harmed any of your patients, if that's what you're afraid of. Quite the contrary! You saved a lot of people. At least as a GP, I have often witnessed that."

"But do you know why I'm not a surgeon anymore?"

"Well, actually, you told me."

"Is it very bad?"

"No, not really. You see, you…" Louisa thought about a way to put it, then decided to quote him. "…you developed 'A minor anxiety disorder brought on by an overexposure in a high-pressure environment'."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"You were about to operate on a patient, and you had noticed earlier in her room how the whole family clung to her and didn't want to let her go out of concern. Somehow, it affected you, and you couldn't operate. You developed a little problem with blood."

"Problem, what kind of problem?"

"You don't know?"

"No, how could I?"

"I mean, you're in a hospital, you surely must have seen, or smelled…"

"Seen or smelled what?"

"Blood."

Martin thought for a moment. Sure he had seen how they had drawn blood. In the first couple of days, some of his wounds had still been bleeding occasionally, and inserting a catheter is also not done without a drop of blood."

"Sure, on few occasions there was a bit of it, but not much."

"And you haven't noticed anything?"

"Like what?"

"Like…feeling odd?"

"I am feeling odd at the moment."

"No, I mean, queasy."

"No, not particularly."

Louisa stared at him, trying to believe what that meant. "So you're cured?" She asked cheerily.

"Cured of what? I'd say I'm not cured from a great many things."

"Yes, but…well, as it is, you always felt sick at the sight and smell of blood, actually throwing up. Haemophobia. But you haven't noticed?"

Martin paused. Hesitantly he answered. "No. No, I haven't. Actually, I don't really mind the sight."

Louisa slung her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "That's great, Martin! You're cured!"

"If only that had been the only thing I've forgotten…"

"Oh, don't be impatient. It will become better. It will be good. I know. Nothing can go wrong now."

Martin wasn't so sure and felt a bit uncomfortable about this outburst. He also tried to digest the information. A surgeon with haemophobia? That was a good one. Then another thing hit him, which made him spit out a bitter laugh.

Louisa drew back, looking at him incredulously.

"What, Martin?"

"Don't you see it? It's really funny, isn't it? Life certainly has a cruel sense of humour!"

"What do you mean?"

"First my career was ruined by the most outrageous handicap for a surgeon, and when I finally get over it, at the price of forgetting all about my trade altogether! I would be physically able now to perform surgery, if I only could remember how! Isn't that a good joke? A cruel one, I admit, but bloody good!"

"Please, Martin, don't look at it that way. See it as some sort of progress."

"Progress – from handicap to nothing? Great progress. If I progress any further at that speed, the next thing that will be happening is me falling out of this bed and breaking my neck!" He spat out another bitter laugh. Then sadly added. "Maybe that wouldn't be the worst solution for all of us."

To be continued…