Today's Reading
"How can I help you today, Tilda?" Gurinder's voice was low, with the melodic tones of her accent. She'd once told Tilda she was from Mumbai.
"This is going to sound crazy, but...I can't see my little finger." Tilda slapped her hand onto the desk.
Gurinder peered at it over the rim of her glasses. "It's missing."
Tilda breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god you can see that."
"Or not see it."
"Quite right. I thought I'd lost my mind, but obviously if you can't see it either, that would rule out my eyes or my mental health."
"So it would seem." Gurinder had one of those piercing stares that made you feel she was watching for any inconsistencies in the information you gave her, trying to catch you out. She was always able to get the truth as the patient knew it, and then use her medical knowledge to dig deeper. Yet another quality that made her such a good doctor.
"Are you in pain?"
Tilda shook her head. She'd been holding it together up to this point. "I do feel like I could have a panic attack, though."
"Just breathe. We'll work this out."
Tilda did as she was told while Gurinder reached over and took her hand. She checked her fingers one by one, just as Tilda herself had earlier, and then when she got to the little finger, she gave it a good yank. "Still there. It's just invisible," Gurinder said. "When did you first notice this?"
"A couple of hours ago." Tilda pushed her hair back off her face. "My ear is missing too."
Gurinder looked at the side of Tilda's head, her mind clearly working overtime, just as it had when she diagnosed the eggplant allergy. She reached across and gave Tilda's ear a yank, and then made an mm-hmm sound. "Can't see it, but it's there."
Finally, she sat back in her chair and stared at Tilda. Really studied her.
"How old are you, Tilda?" She turned to her computer screen and began entering Tilda's answers.
"Fifty-two."
"Do you feel well?"
"I thought I did."
"How would you describe your quality of life?"
Tilda's four-fingered hand flew to her chest. "Are you suggesting euthanasia?"
Gurinder didn't even try to hide her frustration. "That's a giant leap from a simple question. I just meant are you happy?"
Tilda's brain recalibrated and then came to a standstill. This question was more confusing than the last. Was she happy? She'd always considered herself to be a positive person, especially when she was younger, but Tom erred on the side of intellectual and had accused her of being "irritatingly Panglossian." Of wearing rose-colored glasses. So, over the years, she'd removed them. She'd adjusted her optimism to suit him, at first purposely, but then habitually. And now...
"I'm not unhappy," she said.
"How are the twins?"
Tilda was a little thrown by the shift in questioning, although this was much more comfortable territory. "They're great."
"Is Tabitha still studying veterinary science?"
Tilda nodded. "And still volunteers with the rescue group. You know Tab, always involved with different animal causes, even when she was in high school."
"I think she got that from you," Gurinder said.
It was true. Tilda was a rescuer; it was something she shared with her daughter. "It will certainly lower my pet-care bills once she's a vet."
Gurinder chuckled. "I bet. Do you see her often?"
"Most weeks," Tilda said. "She comes for dinner with her partner."
"Do you like him?"
"Her. Jess. And yes, I like her very much." Tilda knew Gurinder was quite conservative and was pleased to see that she didn't bat an eye at this information.
"I watched Holly's show recently. Is she back in Sydney now?"
...
