Newborn Needs a Dad. Dianne Drake

Not unhappy, but not happy, either.

      “Not as good as you, since you’re working and I’m not,” she snapped. “Sorry. I’m not having a good day.”

      “Understandable.”

      “Is there some way to get this thing delivered early? Induce labor, maybe?”

      A quick survey of Angela’s chart revealed she was due two weeks after Gabby. She was healthy and there was nothing of alarm going on except, perhaps, her attitude. “Would it make any difference if I said that you’re over two thirds of the way there and the rest is downhill from here?”

      A laugh broke through Angela’s mood. “The one thing I could always count on with Doc Graham was that he would be at least as grumpy as I was. And now I’ve got a doctor who smiles. Guess that means I have to smile, too, doesn’t it?”

      “It helps. You ought to try it.” Gabby sat the chart aside and extended her hand to Angela. “Hi, I’m Gabby Evans, and I’ll be smiling at you for the next few weeks. Five or six, if I’m lucky.”

      “So we’re due almost the same time,” Angela responded, taking Gabby’s hand. She was a small woman, with short-cropped brown hair and dark brown eyes. Almost a pixie…a pixie with a sizeable tummy spread, side to side.

      “Just a few weeks apart, and I know what you mean, wanting to get it over with. There are times I’d really love to see the floor again.” She wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around Angela’s arm and pumped it up. “Or my ankles. But I guess that comes soon enough, doesn’t it?” Then she listened for the dull sound of the blood pressure through her stethoscope. It was high. Not alarmingly so, but enough that Gabby took a second reading to make sure. Again, it registered barely on the high end of normal.

      “Did Doc Graham ever diagnose you with hypertension?”

      Angela was instantly alarmed. “No, why?”

      “You’re on the verge. Nothing to worry about yet, but I want to keep an eye on it. So, do you live far from here?” she asked Angela.

      “No, about twenty minutes.”

      “Good, then I’d like you to stop in tomorrow for another blood-pressure check.”

      “Should I be nervous about this?”

      Gabby shook her head. “Could be nothing. Could be because you’re stressing. Of course, even bringing it up puts you under more stress, which could raise your blood pressure. But I want to stay on top of this, keep it under control if it’s the start of something, or rule it out if it’s not.” The only real concern was that, according to Doc Graham’s notes, Angela’s blood pressure had been normal all along. “And in the meantime, reduce your salt intake, stay away from highly processed foods with a lot of sodium in them, and if you’re not walking, walk.”

      “I walked. In fact, that’s all I did until Doc Graham made me quit working. I manage the kitchen up on the older Sister…”

      “Older sister?”

      “The mountain peak to the south. It’s the older Sister. The one to the west is the middle Sister, and the one to the north is the younger Sister. Anyway, I’m at Pine Ridge Ski Resort up on the older Sister. Head chef, temporarily sidelined to paperwork. Which is driving me crazy, making me grumpy, probably responsible for raising my blood pressure.”

      “So besides the obvious, let me guess. When you’re at a desk, you’re not exercising, and probably eating away your frustration? And getting angry thinking about what you’d rather be doing?”

      Angela laughed. “Something like that. And I should know better, being a chef and a dietician, but I’ve been having a craving for salty things lately.”

      “Well, elevated blood pressure isn’t necessarily a problem when it’s still in the high normal range the way yours is, so don’t stress over that. But like I said, I want to keep an eye on it and make sure it isn’t about something other than your change in lifestyle and…” Gabby smiled, thinking about the chocolate craving she’d been having for a while “…bad habits. So, for the next few days I’d like to see you every day to get a reading. Oh, and get back to the kitchen, at least on a part-time basis. Cook a little and use common sense.” She scribbled a hasty note on her prescription pad. “According to your chart you’re perfectly healthy, and I think it’s good to stay working as long as you can. Light duty, though. Maybe some baking. The note gives you permission to get back into the kitchen on a limited basis, and I trust you’ll use good judgment in deciding whether or not you feel like it.”

      “Really?” She read the note twice, blinking her surprise both times. “You’re going to let me go back to work?”

      “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not particularly an advocate of inactivity during pregnancy. People treat pregnancy like it’s an illness, but I prefer to treat it like a normal condition, one the body’s prepared to deal with.”

      “But Doc Graham said…” She stopped, frowned, then smiled. “I can work a little?”

      Gabby laughed. “There’s old-school and new-school thinking here. My dad, also an obstetrician, was a brilliant doctor, but he was very old school. Like Doc Graham. He thought pregnancy was a time when a woman should rest, put her feet up, be pampered. I, on the other hand, believe in the benefits of working through a pregnancy, if a woman’s physical condition allows it. And studies back that up. My dad and I used to argue over this all the time.”

      “And who won?”

      “He did with his patients. I did with mine.” And neither of them ever budged from their position. “So, in other words, be indulgent. Of course, you’re the one who has to define what indulgent is, according to your condition. Now, how about I do the rest of your physical, then we’ll talk about the really important things, like decorating baby’s room.”

      

      “So tell me about your hospital.” Gabby caught up to Neil in the hall and fell into step with him. Big steps, tall man. Broad shoulders that swayed naturally with his steps. Neil Ranard had an impressive stature, and for Gabby to notice was something out of the ordinary. Usually she didn’t pay attention, because most men looked her directly in the eyes, and she had a definite preference for tall. But he was tall, taller than Gabby by a good head, which put him well over six feet. Nice, considering how her five-feet-eight height towered over so many people. And intimidated so many men. “Tell me the five most important things I need to know in order to succeed here.”

      “Well, the first is that coffee breaks are essential. Do you prefer your coffee with, or without, cream and sugar?”

      “We’re on our way to a coffee break? That’s why you’re in such a big hurry?”

      “Believe me, at the end of ski season, you look for any excuse you can find to take a break. For five months we’re ridiculously busy. There’s hardly enough time to catch your breath. Never enough time to sit down and put your feet up. Sometimes you’re on call for days. Meaning, no coffee breaks whatsoever. Then the season changes and there’s time to take a break, so you do even if you don’t necessarily want one, because you know that will change in due course and soon you’ll bemoan the fact that you don’t have time to take a break. The two phases of our medical life here—with, and without, coffee breaks—are a vicious cycle.”

      “And you like that, don’t you? I see it in your eyes.”

      Neil laughed. “Or maybe I just like to complain.”

      “Ah, the foibles of being self-indulgent. I just had a talk with my patient about that.”

      “My foibles have more to do with leaving here and being so damned grateful to come back, under any circumstance, break or no break. I was away for a while, working in a clinic in Los Angeles, somehow deluding myself into thinking that I wanted steady hours, five days a week. It was a job most doctors would envy, because I was able to live like everybody else does. You know, getting