explain. It meant that she was part of a team. Declan relaxed and watched her confident strokes as she drew out his name. DR. DECLAN CARROLL. His mother would just love it; maybe he could put it on the photocopier and give it to her.
And one by one, the rest of the team came in.
Lavender, the dietitian, who congratulated Declan on choosing to be a GP. Too many young men now wanted a showy career as a consultant. Fine lot of help that was to ordinary people, who, like Kitty Reilly, needed a good doctor.
Barbara, a nice, lively nurse, who said that this clinic was a great place. It had only been up and running for two weeks and yet you felt at the end of the day that you had done some good, which was more than a lot of people must feel, if you were to judge by their faces. Barbara said that she started each week with three resolutions: this week she was going to lose four pounds weight, she was going to frighten this barking patient Kitty Reilly into learning the names of her tablets and she was going to a charity do at a very smart golf club, because she and her friend Fiona had heard there were going to be some unmercifully gorgeous men at it.
Hilary Hickey, who said she was Claras assistant, welcomed him and said he would be very happy here. There was a kind of magic about seeing people who thought they were finished and for the high jump when they had heart attacks come round to realizing they could cope with it after all.
There was a security man called Tim, who said he only came in for a short time each day, mainly to see that things were functioning all right. He wanted to check if Declan would have any drugs in his filing cabinet, because if so there would have to be extra precautions and lists and locks. Declan said he thought it was highly unlikely. He might prescribe drugs, but people would go to the pharmacy to collect them.
He met Johnny, the physiotherapist, who told him that he had high hopes for this place. That woman Clara had more nerve than most. There was absolutely no money for machinery but she had gone and ordered it all. Johnny had been almost afraid to unwrap it, so quickly did he think that bollocks Frank what's-his-name in administration would repossess it. But no. The cunning Clara had given a press conference saying that it was all state-of-the-art equipment and thanking the hospital publicly for its great sense of commitment. Frank, the bollocks, now had no way out.
Declan noted that they all called the director of the clinic by her first name. That was certainly different from his last posting, where people had been
Mr.
this and
Dr.
that and a huge amount of pecking order and distinction was the norm.
“How about the patients?” he asked Hilary. “Do we call them by first names too?”
“We ask them how they like to be addressed. Clara says they all want to be on first-name terms but often their children get sniffy and think we are being too familiar.” It made a lot of sense to Declan.
At that moment Clara came in, tall, dark and very well groomed. The first thing he noticed about her was that she took care of herself. The second was her smile. She made him feel that he was the one person in the world that she had been looking forward to seeing.
“Declan Carroll. Welcome. Welcome. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to greet you. I had a meeting with some Neanderthals up in the hospital. You have to go to these meetings or they'll decide something ludicrous behind your back. Anyway, I'm here now. Have you met everybody?”
“Oh, yes, yes indeed.”
“And you're ready to start?”
“Yes, absolutely.” He wondered would he ever have the confidence and polish of this shiny woman.
“Good. Off we go.” And she turned to the left, where there were three treatment cubicles. Each one was brightly lit, with cheerful curtains separating each area and giving some privacy. There were reclining chairs that turned into beds should the doctor need to have the patient lie down. They stopped at
And one by one, the rest of the team came in.
Lavender, the dietitian, who congratulated Declan on choosing to be a GP. Too many young men now wanted a showy career as a consultant. Fine lot of help that was to ordinary people, who, like Kitty Reilly, needed a good doctor.
Barbara, a nice, lively nurse, who said that this clinic was a great place. It had only been up and running for two weeks and yet you felt at the end of the day that you had done some good, which was more than a lot of people must feel, if you were to judge by their faces. Barbara said that she started each week with three resolutions: this week she was going to lose four pounds weight, she was going to frighten this barking patient Kitty Reilly into learning the names of her tablets and she was going to a charity do at a very smart golf club, because she and her friend Fiona had heard there were going to be some unmercifully gorgeous men at it.
Hilary Hickey, who said she was Claras assistant, welcomed him and said he would be very happy here. There was a kind of magic about seeing people who thought they were finished and for the high jump when they had heart attacks come round to realizing they could cope with it after all.
There was a security man called Tim, who said he only came in for a short time each day, mainly to see that things were functioning all right. He wanted to check if Declan would have any drugs in his filing cabinet, because if so there would have to be extra precautions and lists and locks. Declan said he thought it was highly unlikely. He might prescribe drugs, but people would go to the pharmacy to collect them.
He met Johnny, the physiotherapist, who told him that he had high hopes for this place. That woman Clara had more nerve than most. There was absolutely no money for machinery but she had gone and ordered it all. Johnny had been almost afraid to unwrap it, so quickly did he think that bollocks Frank what's-his-name in administration would repossess it. But no. The cunning Clara had given a press conference saying that it was all state-of-the-art equipment and thanking the hospital publicly for its great sense of commitment. Frank, the bollocks, now had no way out.
Declan noted that they all called the director of the clinic by her first name. That was certainly different from his last posting, where people had been
Mr.
this and
Dr.
that and a huge amount of pecking order and distinction was the norm.
“How about the patients?” he asked Hilary. “Do we call them by first names too?”
“We ask them how they like to be addressed. Clara says they all want to be on first-name terms but often their children get sniffy and think we are being too familiar.” It made a lot of sense to Declan.
At that moment Clara came in, tall, dark and very well groomed. The first thing he noticed about her was that she took care of herself. The second was her smile. She made him feel that he was the one person in the world that she had been looking forward to seeing.
“Declan Carroll. Welcome. Welcome. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to greet you. I had a meeting with some Neanderthals up in the hospital. You have to go to these meetings or they'll decide something ludicrous behind your back. Anyway, I'm here now. Have you met everybody?”
“Oh, yes, yes indeed.”
“And you're ready to start?”
“Yes, absolutely.” He wondered would he ever have the confidence and polish of this shiny woman.
“Good. Off we go.” And she turned to the left, where there were three treatment cubicles. Each one was brightly lit, with cheerful curtains separating each area and giving some privacy. There were reclining chairs that turned into beds should the doctor need to have the patient lie down. They stopped at
Similar Books
