Her Melting Point

Should, or Not to Should

Jackie buttoned up her shirt, pulled on her jumper, and walked back to the patient's chair. Her new GP - in all her red-headed, stylishly attired, stiletto-wearing glory - was rhythmically clicking with keys on a laptop at her desk.

"Everything looks normal," Dr. Viola Holyoake said and turned to Jackie with a warm smile. "You're right, it does look like candida. You've got a new sexual partner, it's common. And you mentioned you couldn't take a shower after the intercourse last time. If these normally clear out on their own for you, I'd say, just drink plenty of liquids and give it three to five days. There are over-the-counter creams. If there's no improvement, I will write you a prescription."

Jackie tugged at the collar of her donegal.

"I don't know what's normal for me," she said with a nervous chuckle. "I haven't had any in years. Thrush, I mean. Or new sexual partners. Or sex in general."

The doctor nodded, and a perfect rose golden curled bobbed near her high cheekbone. Jackie sighed. She bet, Dr. Viola Holyoake was never itchy; to say nothing of causing said itchiness in her private parts herself, and by shagging a much younger man in a hostel to boot. The woman looked like a magazine cover at all times. No wonder Rhys Holyoake looked like a proper zealot when mentioning his wife.  Jackie couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have your partner be that proud and honoured to be with you.

"We'll do the STI tests of course." Dr. Holyoake tapped her posh fountain pen on a form she'd filled in for Jackie's swabs. "But based on the timeline you described, I'd say you would've gotten symptomatic earlier if there had been any serious concern."

"I remember getting candida when taking antibiotics. When I just started working after uni," Jackie said. "Mostly because of a poor diet. I should cut down on sugar these days. I've gained a lot of weight too," she added. "And I should look into finding some sport class to attend, or maybe I should start jogging again."

The doctor slowly put down her Mont Blanc and met Jackie's eyes.

"You're under a lot of pressure, Jocelyn," she said softly. "You've moved to a different part of the country. You've got a demanding job with an enormous amount of responsibility on your shoulders. As you told me, you've just made an important decision - not to proceed with an IVF - that will affect the rest of your life. Do you think that maybe you've got enough on your plate without worrying about what essentially is just a number on a scales and has absolutely no bearing on anything?"

Jackie stared at the redhead.

"I'm a survivor of an eating disorder and an associated heart condition," the doctor said with a sigh. "I'm not a psychologist, and it would be unprofessional of me to give you any suggestions, except for, possibly, seeing a nutrition specialist and a therapist if this is a concern for you. I will only repeat to you what my therapist said to me after I was hospitalised. 'Stop should-ing all over yourself.'"

Jackie's jaw slacked. "Pardon?"

"You're should-ing all over yourself." Dr. Holyoake had the most charming embarrassed blush spill on her cheeks. "You say, 'I should cut down on sugar' and 'I should start working out.' Even if your present diet is the reason for your weight gain, you've been eating more sugar because that's your coping mechanism. All the stress you're under is the reason for it, not an excuse to justify some sort of a 'bad behaviour.' It's not bad, and it's not a behaviour. This is just what your relationship with food is like at the moment. Again, if you want to change it, I can refer you to a–"

The doctor was interrupted by a desperate sob that gurgled in Jackie's throat. Jackie bit into her bottom lip; and when that didn't help, she pressed her palm over her mouth.