This is the first in a multi-chapter series. I'll send two chapters at a time.
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I was devastated when my wife asked to divorce me. It happened four years ago. She was a fun-loving lady who liked parties, traveling, and sex, not necessarily in that order. She was a part-time secretary in a large company and had too much free time. She used to say that we work to live and not live to work. It was easy for her to say because I was the breadwinner. As a surgeon in a reputable hospital, I earned about $1,000,000 a year, but my vacation time was limited, especially in the year that preceded our divorce. We lost two physicians then, and my workload became much busier. My wife got fed up, and one evening, when I showed up at home at 9 pm, she served my dinner and announced, "Honey, I am sorry, but enough is enough. You are going to kill yourself at work. I am not interested in being there when it happens. I still love you, but this is NOT the life I want to live. I filed for a divorce. We can stay friends, or if we both feel like it, friends with benefits, but I want to share my home with somebody who cares about life more than work."
I was heartbroken. I loved her dearly. Although we couldn't spend much time together, I considered her my partner. She prepared my meals and laundry, was funny, and was great in bed.
We met in the hospital, dated briefly, and married before the year ended. We were young and in love. Much of our together time we spent having sex. We experimented using different positions, on the bed, carpet, or kitchen table. Two years later, we started expanding our horizons, and during our travels were doing it on the open balcony of a hotel, among the trees in national parks, and even behind a sacred statue in Thailand... Then one day, I suggested the possibility of adding another partner. She hesitated... for a week and then agreed to try it with another man. I researched and chose a slightly older man who looked attractive in the pictures he sent me, had prior threesomes experience, showed me negative recent STD tests, and promised to use a condom.
To make it short, the encounter was a success, and we began meeting others. After pleasurable encounters with three different men, we tried a young woman. We both enjoyed our sex with her. Shortly after, we started swinging. During the first several years, we had plenty of time to travel, meet other people and enjoy ourselves. Unfortunately, most good things in life are bound to diminish at one time. For us, it was my work. HMOs began lowering physicians' salaries, and we tried to make up for it by increasing the number of patients we saw and performing more procedures. I maintained my salary, but my free time was cut significantly. As I said, my wife had enough of it and left me. In retrospect, perhaps it was a blessing that we did not have children.
Last I heard from her, she resided in New York and had a boyfriend.
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Starting over at 45 was not easy. I was busy in the hospital for long hours. The whole dating scene was new to me. Online services like match.com or eHarmony did not exist when I was young and started going out with girls.
One day, when I was eating lunch in my office, a middle age woman barged in and insisted that she needed to speak to me. With half my meal already consumed, I told her to sit down and tell me the urgent problem.
She seemed upset, "Doctor, my mother is Jane Thompson. You operated on her three days ago. She feels good and wants to go home to care for my father. Why do you still keep her here?"
"Young lady, your mother had a complicated abdominal surgery. I am happy that she feels better. However, according to the medical literature, we must keep her two more days because certain complications may occur between days 3 and 5 following the operation."
She smirked, "Is it really the case, or the hospital wants to charge her more?..."
"Look, lady, I told you what I know, and I have vast experience performing these surgeries. If your mother insists she wants to leave, we won't hold her against her will, but I recommend two more days here."
"OK, doctor. My mother trusts you, so she'll stay, but I still don't see why." And then she left my office, slamming the door behind her. Similar confrontations between medical teams and patients' relatives have become frequent lately, and an hour later, I forgot about it.
The next day, after finishing my second operation, I was called to Mrs Thompson's room on the overhead microphone. Her blood pressure dropped, and she looked pale. The likely diagnosis was post-operative bleeding. I ordered an urgent scan of the operation area since there was no sign of external bleeding. The scan suggested that a few stitches got disconnected, and blood was oozing internally. The patient was on the operating table within 20 minutes. I found the leak, took care of the issue, and gave her two units of blood. Within two hours she felt much better. I had a long talk with her and returned to my office.
The daughter knocked on my door half an hour later. I let her in. Her head was down, and she mumbled, "Thank you for keeping her in the hospital and saving Mom's life."
"You welcome. Next time, perhaps it's better to accept the doctor's advice without argument."
She gazed at me momentarily and smirked, "Look, I am no expert, but I thought that stitches only disconnect after surgery due to a bad operation."
I looked at her half-smiling face and was impressed. She was not very young but was pretty. I debated how to answer her challenge and decided that the truth was best, "It was not a technical failure if this is what you are trying to say. By the way, did anybody tell you what the surgery was for?"
"I heard she had a tumor in her tummy."
"Lady, the tumor extended beyond the borders of the stomach, and I had to resect certain parts of adjacent organs. In some areas, the tissue was frail, and the risk of bleeding was higher than usual. I explained it to your mother before the operation. After the surgery, I limited her activity and specifically instructed her to call a nurse whenever she needed to go to the bathroom or dress up. Your mother didn't listen, and 48 hours after the complicated operation, she dressed up by herself and then went to the bathroom. She didn't tell us she had constipation and worked hard on number 2 in the bathroom. Your mother ripped her sutures by not listening to my advice. Now go back to your mother, and you'll find out I explained everything to her already. She promised to behave from now on. Have a good day, ma'am."
She blushed and left the office without saying a word.
I didn't have time to finish my lunch and had to rush to perform two other procedures. When I was done, my secretary texted me that somebody was waiting to see me. I went back and saw the same lady again. I was hungry and tired. I blurted, "Lady, what can I do for you now?"
I saw tears in her eyes, "Doctor, I am so sorry... You were an angel, and I doubted and even offended you. Please forgive me."
"Lady, I forgave you already. Having a mother in the hospital is traumatic, and relatives get emotional. Take care."
She didn't move, "Please, doctor, I was a complete jerk. Can I make it up to you?"
I smiled, "Look, it's OK. You don't have to do anything. You apologized, and it was enough."
"Doctor, please... because of me, you didn't have time to finish your meal. The minimum I can do is invite you to a good restaurant."
I glanced at her. She seemed so grateful and vulnerable... I couldn't refuse. "If you insist, there is a Burger King a block away. We can get a burger and coffee."
She laughed, "Doctor, my name is Briana. Briana Thompson. I am not going to take an angel to Burger King. I can afford to take you to a GOOD restaurant. What kind of food do you like?"
"I am not very selective. Steaks, fish, Italian... Almost everything goes. And out of the hospital, my name is Morton Gold..."
"Doctor Gold... sorry, Morton, I think you are too exhausted now, so I'll let you go to your family. Will it be OK if I reserve a table in a great seafood restaurant tomorrow between 6 and 7 pm?"
