Catch a Falling Star

Catch a Falling Star by Beth K. Vogt Page B

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Authors: Beth K. Vogt
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brother, Dr. Haynes?”
    Ian joined in the fun. “She likes to be called Dr. Kendall, Griffin. The MA told me.”
    â€œWhatever works for your brother is fine with me.” She tucked her stethoscope in the pocket of her lab coat. “So how’s school going?”
    â€œFine. I’ve got this stupid biology project.”
    â€œThat was my favorite subject in high school.”
    â€œReally? Were you good at it?”
    â€œOf course.” She went to the door and looked for Renee, speaking to Ian over her shoulder. “I’m going to have my medical assistant administer a breathing test. I want to evaluate your lung function.”
    â€œHis what?” Griffin’s question jerked her attention back to him. If the guy ever smiled, he’d be quite handsome in a rough-around-the-edges kind of way. Not that she was noticing—not really.
    â€œI’ll explain it all after Ian takes the test. Suffice it to say, I want to see how well Ian’s perception of his breathing matches up to reality. I’ll be back in a few minutes to discuss Ian’s results with you.”
    While Renee worked with Ian, Kendall checked with a radiologist about the results of an X-ray. As she talked on the phone, she could hear Renee chanting, “Blow, blow, blow, blow!” to encourage Ian to exhale as hard and as long as he could. About ten minutes later, she was back with Ian and Griffin.
    Griffin stood leaning against a wall. “I’ve got to admit, I enjoyed watching someone yell at my brother.”
    â€œVery funny.” Ian rolled his eyes.
    Kendall motioned for Griffin to sit in a chair beside Ian, turning the computer screen full of numbers and a graph so they could easily see the information.
    â€œIan’s breathing test scores weren’t as good as I’d like.” She pointed out the numbers marked on the chart. “Normally, you want a range of eighty to a hundred twenty percent of normal. Ian’s hitting about seventy-one percent.”
    â€œSo what does that mean?” Griffin moved closer, and Kendall repositioned the screen.
    â€œWe need to treat him more aggressively so his numbers come into a normal range. People get used to breathing at a less-than-optimal capacity—but they consider it normal. If we put Ian on a daily inhaler treatment, his lungs will improve over time. Then we’ll establish what’s called a ‘personal best’ peak flow by using a handheld meter at home every day for a while. Then later, he can check it at home if he thinks he’s getting into problems.” Kendall forced herself to stay focused. This was no time to wonder if the man across from her wore aftershave or stuck with good, old-fashioned soap.
    Soap. She was betting on soap.
    â€œAnd even though Ian says his asthma is no big deal, I recommend that we start him on a daily steroid inhaler.”
    â€œWhat does that do?”
    â€œHmmm? It helps decrease lung inflammation.”
    â€œBut I’m fine.” Ian twisted his cap around so that it sat on his head backward.
    â€œI believe you were fine, most of the time, in the climate back in Florida.” Kendall tapped the papers with her pen. “But these numbers indicate that you’re not fine here. A lot of people who have no problems living in, say, North Carolina or Tennessee have breathing problems when they move to Colorado because of the drier, colder air. I also suggest having an inhaler on hand in emergency situations.”
    Ian nodded agreement. “You’re the doc.”
    â€œLet’s talk about your allergies.” This was going to be the tricky part. “You know what you’re allergic to, right?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œRemind me how old you were when you were diagnosed with those allergies?”
    â€œFirst grade. It was right around the time Mom and Dad adopted me.”
    She really needed to get his medical records. “With your latex

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