After Mike’s sight returned, life returned to normal for the next month. Gigs Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays, recording sessions sprinkled throughout, never for more than an hour or two at a time, since many other artists were using the studios. April came and a postcard arrived from Ericka, reminding the guys that it was time for their annual checkups. Peter made appointments for all five of us, then made one for Isa when he discovered that she hadn’t gone to a doctor in ages.
"Hello Lenora. Ready for your checkup?" Ericka said pleasantly as she walked in the room.
"As I'll ever be," I mumbled. "I've never been big on pain or checkups or doctors or dentists or all that stuff," I elaborated when she gave me a confused look.
"I don't bite," she said. "Let's start with you taking your shirt off and putting this on." She pulled a paper cover-up out. "I won't look." She pulled a curtain between us.
I quickly shrugged out of my shirt -- a reddish Nehru shirt I'd borrowed from Peter, pulled on the paper cover-up and then pulled the curtain aside. "Okay."
"Don't be so nervous. Relax. I don't bite and I won't put you through unnecessary pain." She took her stethoscope and rubbed it on her coat. Then she pressed it to my back and asked for deep breaths -- and it wasn't freezing cold! I smiled, relaxing a little at the tiny courtesy. "I heard a little congestion in your lungs. Are you sick? Or are you asthmatic?"
"Exercise induced asthma," I said.
"Amnesia and you remember the name of your affliction?" she asked good-naturedly.
"Whoops. Well . . . I guess you should know -- the amnesia is just a cover."
"Oh?" she asked, sticking a probe in my ear.
"Yeah. I really came from another dimension, thirty years in the future. We came up with the ship wreck and amnesia story as a cover for the fact that I had no identification or anything -- I went straight from my bed to the Pad -- and we don't know how."
"Really? Okay. Do you remember what medications you were on?" She moved around to look up my nose.
"Proventil for the asthma -- though it didn't really help a lot. Claritin for allergies -- but I never had scratch tests so we didn't know for certain what allergies I have. Um . . . Vancenase also for the allergies. And I had started on Ventolin for the asthma but I had adverse reactions to it so I was taken off."
"What kind of reactions? And what allergies do you have? Say Ah!" She looked down my throat.
"I puked every time I took the inhaler. And my doctor postulated that I was allergic to dust, mold, pollen, and pet hair. And I had a reaction when I was a baby so we're more sure of my allergy to penicillin."
"We'll have to do scratch tests. They won't hurt, don't worry." She grabbed the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around my arm. "I see your ears are pierced. Any infections from those?"
"Nope. I'm careful. I make sure to use rubbing alcohol on the posts before I wear them."
"Good. Had all your shots?"
"Sure have. I never wanna go through THOSE again."
"Good. Now I'm going to take a blood sample." At my horrified expression, she smiled warmly and reassured me, "I'll do my best to keep the pain to a minimum. I can call one of the guys in from the waiting room if you want."
"Can you call Peter?" I asked softly.
"Certainly." She went to the phone and called the front desk, asking them to get Peter and bring him in, then she called for a nurse to bring in the necessary equipment.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked a minute later as he walked in.
"Nothing. Lenora is just very nervous about getting blood taken. I said she could ask for one of you to come hold her hand," Ericka said.
Peter ran to me and gave me one of his patented bear hugs. "Don't worry Len, you'll do fine." He pulled a stool up beside me and sat, holding my hand. I opened the link wide and told Micky what was going on. He said he'd try to relieve the pain via the link.
Ericka walked over by the examination table then with a tray of equipment. I caught a glimpse of the needle and squeezed Peter's hand . . . HARD, whimpering softly.
"Do you mind if I sing, Ericka?" Peter asked.
"Not at all," she said. "In fact, please do. I've never heard you sing before."
Peter beamed. He gently grabbed my chin and turned my head so I was facing him. "Don't look that way. It'll just scare you. Look at me." He started to sing a folk song I didn't recognize. As I stared into his gorgeous blue eyes, I felt myself drift.
"It's over," he said softly at the end of the song. I looked at my arm and saw a band-aid.
"I didn't even notice!" I said.
"Good. Peter -- I should hire you to sing for all of my skittish patients!" Ericka said.
Peter grinned from ear to ear. "Thanks doc but I don’t think I have time to be here all day! But I think I could make you a tape." He winked at her.
"Please do. Well, Lenora, you’re all done. I’ll call the Pad with the results of this later. Oh and when I have your medicines ready - I have to look up what inhaler is best for exercise-induced asthma. Make an appointment to have your scratch tests done on the way out," Ericka said. We nodded and she walked out.
"Want me to wait outside for you?" Peter asked, handing me my shirt.
"Why? It’s just you. I don’t mind." I took off the coverup and started to slide on the Nehru shirt . . . then winced as I bent the arm Ericka had taken blood from. "Argh. Besides, I need your help!"
Peter chuckled and helped me slide the shirt on. He massaged my shoulders briefly and led me out. We made the appointment on the way out and headed home to the pad.
Three days later Ericka called with the blood test results, saying that I was perfectly healthy. She said that my inhaler would be ready when I came for the scratch tests the next day. That appointment went well, with Peter holding me in his lap, whispering encouraging words in my ear throughout. In the end, it was discovered that I was only allergic to penicillin and mold.
Last updated 03 DEC 98
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