Chapter 3: Seeing the Doc

I did see my doctor, “Monty” Montgomery, at his private hospital nearby in the north of the Borough of Kensington & Chelsea. Monty had brought me into the world 36 years ago and is now 70 years of age. Very soon into our conversation he volunteered the information that he was going on retire on the Friday of the very next week.

He had worked on at the surgery, he said, after his wife died six years earlier. They had no children so I have always got the impression that he regarded some of his patients as children in his care. I have always got on well with him and, since becoming a precocious “adult”, I have been calling him “Monty” since I was about 18 and was forced to consult him after I caught my first and only sexually transmitted disease from an early adventure into the world of casual sex. Oh yes, that was embarrassing, I can tell you, but fortunately it was a comparatively mild infection, one easily dealt with by oral medication and that taught me a valuable life lesson which has stood me in good stead ever since.

Both Monty and his doctor father had between them been my family’s doctors for the last 90 years at least and Monty was very aware of my lifestyle, and had been well aware since I had that STD scare when I was so young. Together we had ensured that I had regular physical check-ups every year and I went for STD checks with the resident nurse every three months since, so there shouldn’t be any surprises in that area, I thought.

Monty took some blood for testing and remarked that I seemed to be having problems supplying a urine sample. The examinations seemed to take a couple of hours and in a quiet moment while Monty was organising a batch of tests on my donated samples, I sent a text to Kay-Lynn, who was relatively close by in the waiting room, explaining to her that I was still in the doctor’s examining room and in the middle of tests and had no idea when I would be finished.

I confess I did complain to her that I had been prodded and poked and had all sorts of samples taken and had a number of puncture injections about my person and I would let her know the outcome later. I offered looking after myself at the end of the tests if she wanted to leave and make better use of her time but she immediately replied that she would stay, especially as apparently my private hospital had a range of current magazines to read whilst her NHS patients’ and relatives’ waiting rooms had magazines at least three years old.

When Monty returned to the treatment room he wheeled in a piece of machinery with a viewing screen attached it and he asked me to get up onto the treatment table once again and pull my shirt up.

Monty then spread some oily ointment on my potential “beer belly” and took what he told me was an ultrascan of my lower stomach. Then he nodded to himself as he saw the results of his wiggling some sort of scanner over me and getting results on the screen that was turned more towards him than me.

“Well, I never,” he said as he turned his face towards me.

“This is a first for me, Drew, and probably a first for humanity, but there is some good news and some bad news for you. What do you want first, the good or the bad, and as a hint I would advise you go for the good news first. Oh, before we get to that point I think it would be a good idea that I would like you to consider positively...” I shrugged in response, so he continued, “in addition, would you like your delightful partner to be in here with you while you hear your prognosis?”

“Why, would her being here help?”

“Well, it would make it easier on everyone if the good and bad news is shared rather than have to go all over the various strands and options available a second time, Drew.”

“Okay, Monty, I’m in your hands so, if you think it would be better that I hear my diagnosis in the company of a friend, then please ask Kay-Lynn to step in.”

He got up and left the room, with me still lying on the treatment table with my shirt pulled up to around my chest, highlighting my beer belly. Not a good look for me, I was sure.

“Well, young lady, it is a real pleasure to meet you,” Monty said as he and Kay-Lynn entered the room. “I am Doctor Montgomery and you are?”

“Kay-Lynn Cooper, Doctor.”

“And what is the exact nature of your relationship with this scallion we have here in my surgery, might I ask?” Monty asked her with a smile.

“I think we’ve only just agreed to be boyfriend and girlfriend, in an exclusive relationship ... for a limited period anyway,” Kay-Lynn smiled back, “and, during that agreed period of about three months we will see how our relationship develops or otherwise, you know, what with the age gap, the level of independent narcissism, a reluctance to comply with what I think is good for him, etc, etc, although Drew did agree with me without too much hassle to come along to see you, so that was a promising start to build on.”

“I imagine you suggested his coming to see me was over his sickness in the morning, I suppose, or was it some other concern?” Monty asked the girl.

“Yes, it didn’t seem normal for a fit-looking man on an empty stomach and I know he was only drinking water last night. Plus, when he admitted to me that he’d felt like this for longer than a few days, I used his mobile phone to book an appointment and sort of escorted him here to make sure he saw his doctor.”

“Ah, very good indeed. I think that you’ll do very nicely, Ms Kay-Lynn Cooper,” Monty chuckled back, “it makes this an even greater pleasure to meet you. I must say that you have the look of a strong and determined young woman blessed with common sense and a healthy dollop of ‘get up and go’ about you. Now, tell me, Ms Cooper, are you easily upset when you are asked to care for incapacitated people, such as an aging relative, however temporary or permanent that incapacity might be, and are you squeamish when confronted by incontinence or the presence of other leaking bodily fluids like vomit or blood at all, my dear?”

“No, not at all,” Kay-Lynn smiled back at Monty, “I am a nurse, well, I’m an NHS trainee nurse at the present, in my second year of study at St Thomas’ Hospital.”

“Excellent, I think you will do very nicely for at least the next few months then, my dear, but you might want to persuade our patient here to extend your trial relationship to least seven months or so, possibly even a whole year.”

“I must say, Doctor, you are getting me a little worried for Drew’s health, to be quite honest with you,” she said, her forehead furrowed.

“Me too,” I added into the conversation taking place between the pair of them, to my exclusion up until now, “I may be narcissistic and presently feeling a little paranoid, but I am here in your presence being talked about, impinging on personal medical conditions appertaining to me and not in a positive way. I know we have a doctor-patient relationship that goes back a long long way, Monty, but I’d like to remind you that I do have feelings that can be hurt you know. Twelve months extension to our relationship sounds from this side of the treatment table as somewhat terminal.”

“I know your feelings, Drew,” Monty said, “and I don’t want to worry you unduly, I am certain that you will see me shuffle off this mortal coil long before you need to worry about the wording of your last Will and Testament. I just want to test the mettle of your lovely young companion here and I hope you will indulge me in that task for a couple more minutes longer.”

“Sure, Monty, I trust you know what you are doing,” I replied, “and hopefully you will eventually get around to the nitty gritty of whatever medical condition I am ailing from.”

“Thank you Drew. Now, my dear, do sit down in this admittedly hard and rather uncomfortable chair next to the treatment table and in front of this ultra sound screen,” Monty said to Kay-Lynn, ignoring my stifled protests, “and hold your ... er ... friend’s hand while I run through the symptoms, the potential causes and my best guess diagnosis of what we have been able to see so far in summary. Well, my dear, I did tell Drew at the beginning of our consultation that I was thinking of retiring from my practice here at the end of next week. I will be 70 years old by then and I confess I did work on after reaching retirement age for an extra few years because my wife had only just died at the time I was due to retire and I didn’t really want to be spending my retirement days alone at home. We had had such plans, of what we were going to do together with our leisure time but all those plans came to no avail. We were childless unfortunately and both of us were general practitioners in this practice founded by my father and, I suppose in a way, we regarded some of our long-term patients as our surrogate offspring, particularly those with long-term family connections like Drew and his family.”

Monty looked at me before leaning forward and taking hold of Kay-Lynn’s free hand into one of his and leaned forward slightly as if he was imparting some secret.

“You know, Ms Cooper, it was my pleasure to bring the very young Drew here kicking and screaming into the world, some 36 years ago now and he will be 37 in just a few weeks. I am reminded of that by his medical records. His safe and healthy arrival all those years ago was a bit of a miracle actually, not only to his parents but to my wife and I and the rest of the practice. He was regarded as a singular miracle.”

“Was he?” Kay-Lynn asked.

“Well, I’m not sure if Drew knows this, but we, and by we I mean both his parents and I, never thought that a child of their making would ever see the light of day ... and look at him now, look how well he has turned out, a magnificent body of a man, tall, dark, handsome, bright intellectually and extremely personable and quite even-tempered emotionally, would you agree, my dear?”