Not My Patient

At six-thirty that evening, I came back from campus still wearing the white coat I hadn't had time to take off after my afternoon clinical rotation.

I carried takeout toward my apartment building and noticed a group of older residents gathered beneath the courtyard gazebo.

My neighbor, Gloria Vance, sat among them with one arm around a thin little boy. She was complaining, "My grandson only just came to live with me. He's had diarrhea for days and barely eats. I'm worried sick."

Someone noticed me passing and called casually, "Miles, you're back. I heard you go to Bellmont University. You're studying medicine, right?"

I stopped and answered politely, "Yes, ma'am."

Gloria's eyes lit up immediately.

She set the boy beside her, hurried over, studied me from head to toe, and stared at my white coat before grinning. "Medicine? Perfect. Come examine my grandson."

She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, digging her nails into my skin.

I frowned and pulled free. "Mrs. Vance, please calm down and tell me what happened."

"What's there to explain? My grandson's been sick for days, and he's lost so much weight!" Gloria's sharp voice scraped like nails across a board. "You're wearing a white coat, so you're a doctor. Come home with me and examine him."

I stepped back, remembering the private messages she'd sent me a few days earlier.

"Mrs. Vance, I'm not training in human medicine. I can't treat people."

"You can't?" Gloria's face dropped. "You're standing there in a white coat and telling me you can't? Who do you think you're fooling?"

"I really can't." I kept my patience. "I already explained this in my messages. My field is veterinary medicine."

Gloria paused and planted both hands on her hips. "Veterinary medicine is still medicine."

Several women beside her started laughing.

One muttered, "So he's only an animal doctor. I thought he was somebody impressive."

Gloria waved dismissively. "Enough. Treating illness is treating illness. Just prescribe something for the diarrhea. I'm not asking you to do surgery."

"Mrs. Vance, it's not the same." I shook my head. "Human and animal medications are prescribed under completely different standards. I've got no authority to prescribe for a person. Your grandson needs a licensed pediatric clinician."

Gloria's face darkened completely.

She put her hands on her hips and raised her voice. "Why are young people so rigid these days? I only asked for medicine, not for you to risk your life. Are you refusing because you look down on poor people?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Then what did you mean?" she cut in sharply. "I'm an old woman who came to the city with my grandson. We don't know anyone, and I can't afford a hospital. I asked a neighbor for one small favor, and you act like you're too important for it."

She grew more agitated and sprayed spit across my face. "You university students think a few years of school make you better than everyone. Ordinary people are beneath you, aren't they?"

Several women joined in. "Exactly. It'd take almost no effort to help."

"Young people today have no compassion."

I took a deep breath, swallowed my irritation, and stepped around her with my takeout. "Mrs. Vance, I've got things to do upstairs."

Her shrill voice followed me. "What kind of person wears a white coat and pretends to be a doctor? You're nothing but an animal doctor!"

I didn't turn around.

I'd never met anyone so unreasonable.

And I didn't yet understand how much worse she was about to get.