“Let’s see how you are doing this week Martha,” he will say and pore over the nurse’s notes.
He will then check my blood pressure and shake his head in perplexity.
I will give him a big smile, which will make him blink his eyes rapidly and start rummaging his medical kit.
As always, I will not tell him, “My dear Thomas, noticing my lipstick and appreciating my dress will not make you disloyal to your dead friend. It may do wonders for my blood pressure that confounds you week after week after week.”