“Yes, but not lately. I retired.” He could see why, but didn’t comment. He was extremely professional and personable, just the right degree of both.
“How can I help you today?” He was wise enough not to assume that she was there about the damage to her face, if she had come for some other reason. That happened sometimes, and he waited for her to tell him.
She got right to the point, not to waste his time, or her own, and she wasn’t hopeful. “I was in the attack at the Brussels airport in March.” He nodded, with a serious expression, knowing that the damage undoubtedly extended far beyond her face, and had included many complicated injuries and internal damage, as well as the psychological trauma. “I was hit by a great deal of shrapnel, very close to where the bomb exploded.” She went down the list of her injuries and the organs that had been affected. “I was kept in a coma for three months, and had twenty-six surgeries. I’m due for another one in December or January, to try to soften the scars on my face, but they’ve already told me there’s not much more they can do. A friend suggested that I come and see you. I was in a military hospital for six months, and just got out in September. I thought I’d see you before my next surgery, and see if you agree with the procedure they have in mind. They want to do another surgery after that too, but they said that the improvement will be very slight.” He looked very serious as she shared the information with him. The casual air and broad smile were gone.
“You’ve been through an awful lot, Véronique,” he said. “May I call you by your first name?” She nodded assent. “I’ve read about it, but I haven’t seen any of the victims here in the States. I think most of them were treated locally. But from what I’ve read, and what I know about similar events, you were in exactly the right hands. Injuries like the ones you sustained, from a bomb detonated at close range, with additional enhancement, are best treated in military facilities, because they most resemble wartime injuries and not civilian ones. So I will assume that you got the very best treatment possible in Brussels.
“As far as the damage to internal organs and loss of limbs, a military facility has all the right expertise to deal with that. Where they might fall short is when you get down to cosmetic issues, which may be less sophisticated in the military than what we do here for patients with more delicate issues, and high-profile lives. A combination of both disciplines could be very effective for you,” he said encouragingly, “and may get you better results now than what they can offer you at this stage of your recovery. I assume you must have some scars on your body and limbs as well.” She nodded and pulled up the sleeves of her sweater. The scars were still angry and peppered both her arms. Some were quite large, but she had learned to live with them so far, and kept her arms and legs covered all the time. She told him about the surgery they were intending on her face in two months, and he nodded. “Let’s have a look, shall we?” He turned a light toward her, which shone brightly.
“My right eye is affected too. I see shapes and light now. They saved the eye, but I have limited vision from it.” He looked unimpressed by her injuries, as though he saw worse every day, which made her comfortable. He didn’t seem shocked, or overly sympathetic, which so many people did. He just treated her like any other patient, not a miracle to have survived a bombing.
“I can see why they recommended the procedure they did, but on fine features like yours, and very fine skin, I think we can get you better results with a more delicate procedure. It’s no more involved for you as a patient, it’s just a little more work for us in the surgery. I agree that we can’t eliminate the scars completely, but I think we could get you a pretty satisfactory result, with a different process. We won’t need to keep you in the hospital for more than a few days. And I’d want you here for a few weeks so we can watch your recovery for complications. And then a second surgery about three months later, and we can reassess things after that.” She liked him immediately, and what he said made sense, also the fact that models and actresses and movie stars needed different results than ordinary soldiers would have. She felt as though she had come to the right place, thanks to Doug. “You’re still living in Paris?” he asked her.
“Yes, I am.”
“You could fly in and fly out, and we have apartments we lend our patients who come from far away. It’s included in the price of the surgery, with maid service, and a restaurant nearby that caters. You might be more comfortable there than at a hotel. It’s more discreet. You can think about it, and let me know what you decide.” He flipped through a leather appointment book on his desk, to check his surgical schedule, and then looked up at her. “I have an open day you probably won’t like. The twenty-second of December. It will mess up Christmas for you, but I have fewer surgical patients then, for obvious reasons, and I’ll be on call through the holidays, so I can keep an eye on you post-op myself, and you should be able to go home in mid-January, maybe sooner. With the follow-up surgery in March, whenever it’s convenient for you.” He made it all so easy for her, and she realized Christmas would have no meaning for her this year. “You’ll be bandaged of course, but you can go out in a few days. Will that screw up your Christmas plans too badly?”