The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again by Nancy Thayer

Author:Nancy Thayer
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780345482020
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2004-12-13T16:00:00+00:00

21

Even in a hospital bed, naked from the waist down except for her silk tap pants, Claudia managed to look more regal than Queen Victoria.

Obviously she felt that way. “I don’t understand,” she said to Polly in a voice iced with contempt, “why this room doesn’t have a closet. It won’t do my skirt any good simply to be tossed over the back of a chair like that when it should be properly hung.”

Polly smoothed the skirt with her hand. She would have liked to sit down in the chair, but if she did, she might wrinkle the skirt. Then Claudia would really have a fit. “It’s an outpatient room, so I suppose there’s no need for a closet.”

“I just pointed out the need for a closet. Are you deaf?” snapped Claudia, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

She’s afraid, Polly reminded herself. She’s about to have a long needle inserted into her abdomen, and she’s frightened, not to mention dying of cancer and probably constipated and hungry, too.

“Would you like a sip of water?” Polly asked. “Or maybe some juice? The nurse said Dr. Monroe will be right in, but we might have a little wait.”

“I don’t think Hugh will keep me waiting,” Claudia retorted, just as the physician walked into the room.

“Hello, Claudia!” Exuding health, confidence, and the scent of cinnamon, he strode to the bed and grasped Claudia’s hand in a firm clasp. “You’re looking well!” With a nod toward Polly, he said, “Hello, Polly. Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you.” He’d remembered her name! Polly felt herself blush. She’d forgotten how attractive the man was, how sexy. Oh, Lord, she was developing a crush on him. Probably every woman did; women did get moony over doctors.

“We’re doing a paracentesis today,” Dr. Monroe informed them. “It’s a simple procedure. We’ll be draining some of the fluid from your abdomen, which will provide you some relief from the pressure and might allow you to eat more.”

A nurse wheeled in a stainless steel cart laden with bottles and boxes. As he spoke, Dr. Monroe pulled up a chair, opened the boxes, removed gloves and needles and other paraphernalia, and deftly arranged everything at Claudia’s side, chatting away the entire time as if he were at a summer luncheon.

“I don’t understand why I have this fluid,” Claudia complained.

“It’s a reaction to the tumor,” Dr. Monroe told her. “It’s called ascitic fluid, and it will continue to accumulate. Now, the ultrasound you just had indicated that we’ve got a nice little pocket of fluid right here on the left side, so I’m going to put a needle in—sorry, this will sting a bit—then we’ll just attach this drain. Nurse, if you would get the first bottle ready, please—and here we go. I saw your photo in Boston magazine, Claudia. You looked smashing in that red hat.”

Claudia looked pleased. “That was at the Penrods’ Christmas party. I’m surprised I didn’t see you there.”

Fluid the color of tea trickled from the long tube into a glass liter bottle.

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