My gut feeling told me that I would see her again. The cause of the problem, I suspected, was that I'd been my usual nice self. For people used to gruff, indifferent, uncaring doctors, seeing a nice doctor might make them think that something more was going on. In this case, there certainly was none of that, at least on my part. But as I left her room, she said something (I cannot recall her exact words) to the effect of, “Hey, am I really something, or what?”

The playful tone of her voice and the way she moved her body seemed to suggest that I would automatically agree, as if she were just confirming something that was obvious. With no response from me, she continued, “You like me, don't you?”

I smiled and walked out, saying nothing more. While Terry was an attractive woman in her twenties, I was not drawn to her. Lucky for me.

A few weeks later, Terry came to the ER via ambulance, complaining of knee pain. Accompanying Terry was a somewhat older friend, Donna. As Terry was brought in, she waved to me and smiled as if we were old friends. I suspected that she'd come in to continue flirting. I was partially correct.

When I went to see Terry, she wanted to talk about “us,” not her knee. I soon regretted the way I'd truncated our first meeting with a smile. I realized the smile, at least in Terry's mind, had affirmed her suspicion that I was hot for her. At the time, I thought the smile was a semi-clever means of being disingenuously vague about my true feelings. I now realized I should have been more frank with her, but the ER was too busy for me to consider such a luxury.

And the ER was even busier tonight. Terry's conversation was centered on our inevitable relationship and blissful future together, not her knee. Much to her obvious chagrin, I was not reciprocating any romantic interest. I wanted to talk about her knee—silly me! It took her a while to understand that this was the only thing I wanted to discuss, and when she realized that, her countenance and demeanor took a 180-degree turn.

They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and whoever “they” are, they are correct. Her pretty, smiling, happy face transformed into a scowling embodiment of hate and anger. Her once sweet, alluring speech was replaced by a rough, screaming voice, peppered with profanity. She demanded an injection of narcotics, which I did not think was indicated in this case since she originally appeared to be in no pain, and since she was originally more than a trifle reluctant to even talk about her knee. Yet, the screaming and yelling continued. Trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, I offered to give her an injection of a non-narcotic pain reliever that had no euphoric effect. This ticked her off even more, and she refused it, still clamoring for the narcotic.

As I left to see other patients, Donna began pestering me about the narcotic shot. The ruckus that Terry and Donna were raising was seriously interfering with the functioning of the ER, so I stepped in to see Terry once more. I briefly but courteously explained that I was willing to give her something, but I did not believe that a narcotic was the appropriate choice in this case. This attempted appeasement flopped. Terry and her pertinacious friend began bitterly complaining once more, yelling so loudly that they could be heard throughout the emergency room. After venting their spleens for another hour or so, they walked out, much to the relief of the other patients in the ER.

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