The Diagnosis
Even before she was able to ring Dr. Evans, he appeared like a fairy godfather,seemingly out of thin air. The Royal Ballet’s on-call medical staff was excellent, but no match for the good doctor.
“How did you get here so quickly, or know where to find me?” Clara asked as Dr. Evans gently took Clara’s foot and began unwrapping the support tape he had placed on it earlier.
“A mutual acquaintance of ours attended the gala performance this evening and would not stop dropping not-so-subtle hints that I should go to the backstage area to check in on you the moment we left our seats. The ushers know me well enough to let me though to you. Mrs. Evans is on the Royal Ballet’s board of governors. I also consult with the Royal Ballet medical staff from time to time.” Dr. Evans focused on getting the last piece of tape off to free the foot.
Clara’s goal was not to look at the foot. The soaking of the foot in ice reduced the swelling enough to take off her dance shoes. “David was here?” she questioned trying to distract herself. David attended the performance after all. She was right; she had seen him watching her. She hoped he enjoyed the dancing. What if she couldn’t continue after all this? Clara’s stream of consciousness was broken by the sight of a young, red-headed girl observing them in the distance.
Clara remembered Dr. Evans mentioning that his family would be attending the performance. “I’m so sorry to pull you away from the show and your family, Dr. Evans,” Clara apologized.
“Think nothing of it, my dear. Remember, my wife and daughter are the ballet lovers around here. I just buy the tickets and provide transportation. I’ll be the hero after I treat you tonight. Jenna insisted she follow me back here to see some of her favorite dancers.” Dr. Evans hesitated. “Would you be willing to consent to meeting her?”
“Of course,” Clara emphatically responded. “Is that her?”
“Jenna, come over here. There is someone who would like to meet you.” Dr. Evans signaled for Jenna to come and meet Clara.
Jenna, at thirteen years old, played shy. She had a difficult time saying anything and just stared at Clara with big eyes. Clara filled the awkward silence. “Hi, Jenna. It’s nice to put a face to the name. Your Dad told me a lot about you. What did you think about the showcase this evening?”
Jenna slowly warmed up to Clara. “You were so graceful and lit up the stage. I hope I can dance like you in the future.” The words tumbled out of Jenna’s mouth as she recounted her favorite dancers and variations. “I think my favorite was the ‘Dances at a Gathering.’ I really enjoyed the fast footwork Balanchine dancers are known for.”
Clara agreed and the two spoke about the large variants of dance styles. Meanwhile, Dr. Evans looked grimly at her foot as he gently probed over it. Clara grimaced and scrunched up the features of her face.I really wish he hadn’t done that.
“Papa. You will be able to help her right?” Jenna was staring at her father and Clara with a questioning look. “What’s wrong? It looks rather painful. I hope nothing is hurt too badly. Papa will fix you up straightaway. He is the best of physicians.”
Clara answered, “Jenna, we think I broke some of the bones in my foot. It’s painful, I won’t sugar coat it. Maybe you can distract me while your Dad finishes a quick evaluation. Ask me anything.”
Dr. Evans ran a few more tests on the foot and checked Clara’s mobility as Jenna questioned, “What are your favorite foods? Have you tried anything here in London as of yet?”
Clara was hungry and the question about food only made her think about it more. Perhaps she could have Amanda come over to the St. George in place of going out to dinner. Clara certainly wouldn’t feel like it after this. What foods did she want to try other than fish and chips?
“I am a big fan of Hawaiian pizza from the States, but fruits, chocolate, and coffee are my top picks. I’m anxious to try fish and chips and clotted cream. I’ve heard good things about both.”
“Fish and chips are good, but if you have clotted cream you have to try it with strawberries,” Jenna suggested.
“Jenna, I have to discuss a few things privately with my patient. You know the drill. Why don’t you go find your mother and let her know I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Dr. Evans advised his daughter.
Jenna pouted her lips, but agreed. “Thank you for chatting with me.” Jenna hugged her father and ran out of the room. As the door opened, Clara could hear the techs pulling down scenery and cleaning up the stage in preparation for the next evening’s show. Elaborate sets and props were being rolled every which way.
“How do you really feel?” Dr. Evans probed once the two were alone.
In a quiet voice, Clara admitted, “I heard a popping sound on the stage, but it hasn’t felt any more painful than this afternoon.” Dr. Evans and Clara silently understood the injury was now more serious. Her foot was two times larger than its normal size. Splotches of green, purple, blue, and a few almost-black patches made the foot look like someone had attempted to tie-dye it. She was scared by the colors, but from past experience knew that bruising was good. It meant the blood flow was getting to the foot. Hopefully it meant a faster recovery time. She didn’t want to have to have multiple surgeries and be out for a whole year.Please be something minor and not major.
“It is amazing how the human body can manage at the time it needs it most,” Dr. Evans said. “I’m going to wrap the foot in an air cast for the evening. Stay off of it as best you can. I do not want you to attempt any further movements on it to agitate it more than it already is. In the morning, we’ll get a few scans done at my office.” Clara sighed and was resigned to her fate.
All’s well that ends well.She guessed nothing else could be done tonight, as much as she wanted to know exactly what happened. If she was getting scans done tomorrow, she supposed that meant no sleeping late and no sightseeing. How long was she going to have to stay off it? What was going to happen when she got home to L.A.? What about her plans for tomorrow night?Many unanswered questions ran through Clara’s mind.
Clara was relievedto be back in the hotel room. The stress of the day had truly taken most of her energy reserves. Opening the door, she was happy to see the king-size bed calling her name. She was grateful the staff of the St. George was so accommodating and carried her costume and dance bag up to the Rose Suite for her when they saw her return with crutches.
Having forgotten to charge her phone earlier in the day, the screen was dead. Hobbling to her purse, Clara blindly stuck her hand into the black void and fished around for her charger and converter plug. “Success!” she exclaimed to an empty room. Plopping down on the bed, Clara fought a yawn. Her phone and plug adapter plugged into the wall, Clara was surprised to see a slew of text messages. Most could wait for a reply until the morning. The one of interest was from Amanda.
Amanda:Sorry for the late reply. Won’t be making it to London as planned :( Outbound flight crew from Zurich came down sick. Stuck working a turnaround. Will make it up to you, I promise. Won’t say ‘break a leg’, but you will be ammmmmmmmmmmmmazing. I heart you!
The reply could wait until morning. Clara ordered room service and enjoyed a quick dinner refuel, listening to the sounds of the television in the background. Clara fought sleep as long as she could. Lying down, she intended to rest her eyes for just a moment. Alas, Clara fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Knock, knock!
The pounding on the room door woke her up from her dreams. Clara rolled to her side and sat up on the bed.