Page 5 of Goalie Secrets
I’m a woman in the medical field. His disparagement isn’t new to me.
You’re a doctor?patients ask and follow up with some version of me being too young, or too feminine, or too delicate, or too Indian.
Can you call the supervising physician? You’re talking to her right now.
Where did you get your degree?University of Toronto for biochemistry and Harvard for medical school. You might have heard of them.
Have you done this before?Help relieve the pain of people who treat me like I’m the hired help instead of a medical professional? All the time, thank you very much.
Why is your English so good?I’m Canadian, for fuck’s sake.
“There’s been a, um, a misunderstanding. I’m sincerely sorry, that was—”
“No need to get into it. Let’s start over.” I interrupt Mr. Lopez because the thought of reliving the last five minutes, even via anapology, makes my skin crawl.
“Great to meet you, Mr. Lopez.” My pleasantness is as forced as my smile.
We shake hands. I feel his large, calloused palm through the firm grip. Heavily lashed brown eyes assess my face. My own eyes burn with the effort to keep a steady, neutral expression.
“I’m the new MD for Dr. Kyle Lane’s private practice,” I continue. “My work includes extensive experience with connective tissue anomalies and neuromuscular medicine.”
I don’t usually get this jargon-heavy around patients, but he doesn’t get the simpler version, which is that my work treats nerves, muscles, bones, and the spine holistically.
Men like Jeremy Lopez need me to perform my expertise before they concede my qualifications. He’s about to get the entire performance, even if he’ll need a medical journal to translate our discussion.
“Dr. Kapur joins us from Massachusetts General, where her expertise in osteopathic manipulative treatment generated cutting edge research,” Kyle adds a shortened version of his earlier introduction.
“Manipulative treatment sounds like a mind fuck or a massage. Which one is it?” Mr. Lopez pointedly asks me, deadpan and dismissive.
“Jeremy!” Kyle interjects, finally recognizing how rude his patient is. But instead of sternly correcting the hockey player, Kyle appeases him like a child. “It is much more than that. You’ll see.”
If I didn’t need this spoiled brat athlete for my research, I’d tell him to fuck off right now. So, against my baser impulse, I swallow my pride.
“Mr. Lopez—”
“Jeremy,” he barks.
“Jeremy, of course. Can I ask about the hamstring issues you reported from a few weeks ago? Are you finding more tension in the knees as well?”
“Um, yeah, that’s why I came in as soon as I could.”
His eyes narrow in my direction, the lighter shades of brown overtaken by black pupils. Clearly, his close assessment finds me inadequate. Too bad for him, decades of being underestimated has desensitized me to judgment. I’m just getting started.
“My research has shown that craniosacral therapy, which improves the flow of cerebrospinal fluid, can be helpful,” I state pleasantly.
“She’ll work on your spine,” Kyle clarifies. His phone pings, and he reads the text. “I’m backed up with patients, but this is your lucky day, Jeremy. Dr. Kapur is available for consultation today. She can customize an updated pain management plan that fits your strength training. You’re both good, right?”
While the doctor talks, Jeremy and I continue to stare, daring the other to admit discomfort. No one budges.
“Update me later,” Kyle says on the way out, presumably to both of us. The door shuts, leaving me alone with the star goalie who squirms from his perch on the padded exam table.
“I understand you’ve been responding well to corticosteroid injections to the knee.” I’m straight to business. “However, as a long-term cure, there are valid concerns, as I’m sure Dr. Lane made clear.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy confirms. “That’s why we limit it to twice a season.”
“Recent studies show that the peripheral nervous system affects the skeletal microenvironment. With your hypermobility, the stimulation of sensory nerve innovation to promote bone and ligament health would be highly beneficial.”
His exhale is heavy and his glare suspicious.