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32

I did not have more surgery. Again my doctor said that he was sorry to have frightened me, but I only shook my head to let him know that I knew he loved me in his doctor-way and that he had only been trying to keep me alive. Every Friday he said what my mother had heard him say, Have a good weekend, then, if you can. And every Saturday and every Sunday he would show up, saying he had another patient to check on and he was stopping by, therefore, to check on me as well. He only did not come on Fathers Day. I was so jealous of his children! Fathers Day! I have never met his children, of course. I heard that his son became a doctor, and later a few years later, when I saw him in his office and it came up in conversation how I was worried about one of my girls not having many friends he gave me good advice, citing one of his own girls, saying she now had more friends than his other children, and this has turned out to be true for the daughter I was worried about too. When I had trouble in my marriage I mentioned it to him briefly this kind doctor was frightened for me. I do remember I saw that, and that he had no advice to give me. But for those nine weeks that spring and summer so long ago now for nine weeks minus one day, Fathers Day this man, this lovely doctor father-man, saw me every day, sometimes twice a day. When I left and the bills came in, he charged me for five hospital visits. I want to record that too.


| My Name Is Lucy Barton | c