Nurse in Recovery

by Dianne Drake

  “I’m so sorry,” Anna whispered. She wanted to reach across the table, take his hand, give him the reassurances she’d given so many times as a nurse. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry, things will get better. But the look in Mitch’s eyes was so far away, so lost, she knew the empty platitudes didn’t matter. There were no reassurances for Mitch unless he found them himself.

  “So was I, which is why I left. He was nine, real cute kid. The kind you’d hope for if you were gonna have a kid of your own. And he believed in me, believed I could make him better. And I told him I could.” A sigh steeped in bitterness and pain escaped him. “Damn it. A doctor can’t ever make those kinds of promises, but I did. And I really meant it.”

  “What was wrong with him?”

  He finally looked at Anna. “Drunk driver hit him in his own front yard. Up and over the curb in the middle of the afternoon. At first it looked like surgery might fix him up, but it didn’t. Then when I told him he was going to be a paraplegic, he simply smiled and said, ‘That’s OK, Doc.’ But it wasn’t OK. What happened to him wasn’t OK. That I didn’t have anything to offer him wasn’t OK. And I broke my promise…”

  “So you quit.”

  He nodded, turning his face back to the window. “Harsh brush with cold, cruel reality. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do. Couldn’t fix the people who expected me to fix them.”

  “So at the point you quit medicine, you didn’t think your successes counted for anything?” His heart for it was gone, she knew. That was plain. And it was so complicated because, no matter what she’d been through over the months, the only thing she hadn’t lost was her heart for her job. She wanted to go back to it more than anything else she wanted for herself, and it was hard to understand someone who would simply walk away from what he loved because he chose to, and not because he was forced to. She supposed that, in a sense, Mitch had been forced to. Maybe it wasn’t so much that Mitch’s heart for it was gone as that his heart was broken. Perhaps in time he’d heal.

  Or not.

  “My successes?” He laughed bitterly. “You’re good, Anna, but not good enough to play psychiatrist on me. Bring up the successes to offset the failures. Nice try, but it doesn’t work that way. One failure, one little boy who will never be able to play baseball again, will always wipe out a lifetime of successes. And, yes, I’m happy for all the successes, and they do count for a lot. But they move on, and the failures don’t. They eat at you, never let go. And you always wonder if you could have done more, or if you should have done something differently.”

  “Lanli said you were very good, Mitch. The best. And that’s high praise from someone in your own profession—someone who worked with you. She said you gave everybody one hundred percent. So do you think maybe this is simply a case of you being too hard on yourself? Having too many expectations?”

  “Sometimes they needed one hundred ten percent, Anna. So I guess it depends on how you measure good, doesn’t it? As for my expectations of me…they didn’t work out. And that’s it. My story. Nothing more to say.”

  Anna shifted in her chair, moved it further in under the table just to get a little closer to him. Realistically, there was nothing she could do, but every instinct inside was screaming that she had to try. She just didn’t know what to try. He was a conscientious man, a conscientious doctor. And he cared deeply—so deeply, in fact, that he carried it all with him even now. “Have you ever thought about going back?”

  He looked back over at her, his eyes stark. “Every day. Then I go carve another bowl and get over it. The bowl has no expectation of me, or the outcome of my work, not like my patients did, or would…if I went back.”

  “So why me, Mitch?” she asked. “I mean, apart from the fact that you owed Lanli a favor, why did you decide you’d repay it with me?”

  “Honestly?”

  Anna nodded.

  The grimace that had started this conversation returned to his face, but this time he didn’t look away or even close his eyes. He simply stared into hers. “Because you’re like the bowls I carve. No expectations of me, or the outcome of my work.”

  Surprisingly, Kyle hadn’t backed out of their date this evening. In fact, there was a message on the answering machine when Mitch dropped her off after lunch. “I find myself with a free evening, darling. So I’ll stop by around seven.”

  She’d almost laughed. He was penciling her into his busy schedule, into a free slot where somebody else had, no doubt, canceled. No romanticizing that fact.

  Mitch had been up for some leg lifts, but that was good for only five minutes. Then he was out of there and she had the rest of the afternoon to get ready for her big evening with Kyle.

  “That Mitch is really cute,” Sunny said, helping Anna into something other than cotton jerseys. “Saw him on the way in, and I’ve got to tell you if I needed someone to lift my legs, he’d be the one.” She winked at her friend. “Lift them or spread them.”

  “Yeah, well, the lifting part may be doable at some point, but the spreading…”

  “You’re in a better mood lately. Anything to do with Mitch?”

  “Too tired to be grumpy.”

  “But I saw you almost smile when I said his name—Mitch, not Kyle. He’s good for you, sweetie. Real good.”

  “He’s a slave-driver.”

  A devilish expression crossed Sunny’s face. “So tell me what he can do with a whip.”

  Anna wheeled herself over to her clothes rack and selected a pair of black silky slacks and a plain white top. Even now, at the end of the relationship, she was still accustomed to slipping into the look Kyle expected from her. “It’s not like that with Mitch,” Anna protested. “We’re strictly professional—he’s the trainer, I’m the trainee. And I sweat through my antiperspirant with him. Hard to turn that into something else.”

  “But it could be something other than professional, couldn’t it? If you shower after you sweat. And speaking of showers, your dad says Mitch is helping you do that these days. Is that true? I mean, that sounds like turning it into something other than professional to me.”

  “No, it couldn’t and, no, he didn’t, and no, it isn’t.” Days ago she would have snapped off Sunny’s head over that implication. A man like Mitch didn’t want a woman like her, and any other thinking was just plain foolish. She didn’t feel like snapping at Sunny, though. No reason. No need. Maybe the exercise was working out her anger, or maybe acceptance was finally settling in. Whatever the case, after Sunny left, Anna simply pulled on her clothes then went into the living room and waited for Kyle.

  He was punctual and precise as usual, when he showed up. “Where’s your ring, darling?” he said, brushing the side of her face with an impersonal kiss. Not, Hello, how was your day? Just straight to the rock. “You haven’t lost it, have you? I do have it insured…”

  Anna glanced down at her finger. Amazing how quickly she’d forgotten about it. “It’s in the drawer. I was lifting weights and I couldn’t wear it. Guess I forgot to put it back on.”

  “Weights?” Kyle breezed on through the hallway to the living room, and was stretched out on the couch before Anna wheeled herself in. “I thought he was supposed to get you up walking.”

  Mitch always waited for her, no matter how slow she was. He’d wait for her to catch up, then stroll along beside her—unless he was proving a point. But Kyle wasn’t proving a point. He simply didn’t want to walk with her. Or do anything else with her either. “That’s part of it.” She stopped a respectable distance across the room from Kyle and locked her brakes. “But I’ve got to build up some strength first. I’ve gotten pretty weak these past few months.”

  “That’s to be expected,” he said. “You know, I was doing some research. There’s a wonderful rehab facility in New Jersey, and I was wondering if you might be better getting yourself into a completely new environment. A fresh start. Get away from all the old ties, the memories.” He pulled a brochure from his jacket pocket and set it on the table instead
of handing it to her.

  “New Jersey, Kyle?” Anna snapped. “Last time it was Texas.”

  “I’m concerned about getting you better, darling, and I want what’s best for you—especially since you don’t seem to be making much improvement here at home. Lanli did say you’d walk again, but it’s been six months already and nothing’s happened. Which is why I thought someplace with a new approach might be just what you need.”

  “I was in the emergency room day before yesterday, Kyle. Several hours. And I know Bonsi called you. If you’re so concerned about me, where were you? Or where was your phone call after I got home? Sure, I got the flowers, but flowers hardly take the place of the man who’s supposed to love you.”

  “My schedule—”

  Anna thrust out her palm to stop him. Same old conversation, same old excuses. “That’s OK,” she said. It wasn’t, though. Nothing about them was OK anymore. But making that final pronouncement…She sighed. “And I’ll think about that place in New Jersey.” Talk about same old, same old. This was the same old Anna speaking now, backing down from Kyle. The easy Anna, who always said what Kyle wanted to hear. “Have you ever been to that little pub over by the campus? The one just across the street from the bookstore?”

  “I don’t usually go to student hangouts.”

  Of course he didn’t. She knew that. “Could we go there for dinner tonight, Kyle? Grab a burger, have a Coke?” And she wasn’t even hungry.

  Kyle’s answer was evident in his incredulous blink. “I thought we’d order Chinese—have it delivered.”

  “I’d like to go out someplace, Kyle. It doesn’t have to be the pub—just anyplace that’s not here. You pick.”

  “I did,” he said stiffly. “Chinese, here.”

  “You don’t want to be seen with me, do you?” she asked, surprisingly calm. She’d pictured this moment in tears or rage, not perfect calm. But sadly it didn’t warrant an outburst of emotions. What was done was done. So be it for their engagement.

  “That’s not it, darling.” Kyle scooted to the edge of the couch. He even had the decency to look a little disturbed.

  Was he sensing something coming? Anna wondered. “Sure it is. You haven’t gone out in public with me once since the accident. Not even to the hospital. So the only thing I can think of is that it embarrasses you to be seen with the crippled woman.”

  “Nonsense,” he sputtered.

  “No, Kyle, plain sense, finally. It’s been there all along. I just didn’t want to see it.”

  “It’s that burnout rehab doctor, isn’t it? He’s been filling your head full of things that you’re simply not ready for yet.” Standing, Kyle walked halfway across the room to Anna, then stopped. For a moment she saw a pause of uncertainty cross his face. Then it hit her. He was like everybody else—he had limitations, and she was his. She didn’t even hate him for it because he didn’t deserve to be hated, just like Mitch didn’t deserve to be hated because he’d reached his limit in rehab medicine.

  “No, Kyle, it’s not Mitch. It’s me. I have to find my life again, whatever that will be. And, believe me, at this point I don’t have a clue how it will turn out except that we won’t be there together. For the longest time I thought that you would come round, that I would have a miracle, but neither of those things is going to happen. You don’t want to be seen in public with a disabled attachment, and I don’t want someone who doesn’t want to be seen with me. So the solution’s simple.”

  “You’re breaking up with me?” Kyle laughed bitterly. “I’ve been patient all these months, Anna. And it hasn’t been easy. But I’ve always believed you’d get better, so I stayed.”

  “You stayed? What do you mean, you stayed?”

  “I didn’t walk out on you.”

  “But you were never here, Kyle, and, believe it or not, I’m not even angry about that because I understand why. You couldn’t be. It’s not in you.”

  “This is crazy!” he exclaimed, pacing over to the window. Turning his back to Anna, he stared out. “And you’re not going to convince me that hack doctor isn’t responsible for this change in you. Until he came along things were just fine.”

  “Were they, Kyle? Are they now? If I said I’d changed my mind, that I’d go to New Jersey, and could we get married right away before I leave? Would you do that?”

  No answer.

  “Would you marry me, Kyle?” she asked again.

  “It’s not that simple, Anna, and you know it. In time, as you improve…”

  “And what happens, in time, if I don’t?”

  “You will. That rehab center in New Jersey produces good results.”

  “I’m not a result, Kyle. I’m a woman, the one you asked to marry you last Christmas.” Anna wheeled herself over to the window next to him, but he wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t take her hand or put his arms around her and tell her things were going to be good between them again, because he didn’t believe they would. “I’m not going to New Jersey, or Texas, or anywhere else.”

  “What started this, Anna?” he asked, finally turning to face her. “Where did it come from all of a sudden?”

  “A burger,” she said. “I ate the whole thing.” And Mitch had sat with her in public when she’d done it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHE couldn’t have pushed herself all the way to the hospital, and she didn’t want to involve Mitch or Sunny or Lanli in this, but Bonsi was on a break when she called, and he was more than happy to scoot down the street and grab her. She was glad it was Bonsi. He was safe. He didn’t pry, and if ever there was a time she didn’t want prying, this was it. So, thanks to Bonsi, thirty minutes after Kyle stormed out of the house, Anna was sitting with Margaret Chase at the triage desk in the ER, simply watching. Why did she want to be there? She didn’t know, except that, for her, there was balance in the emergency room—a perfect order even amid chaos. One she couldn’t find in her own life. Tonight, when everything else was crumbling, she needed to remember that order, she needed to see that balance again.

  “Sorry I don’t have time to chat right now,” Eva Rainart said, rushing by carrying two units of blood ready to hang. “It just got crazy around here…” Eva’s words trailed away as she turned the corner and followed the trauma surgeon into a room where a severed arm was the priority. Farm accident, Anna overheard. Overturned tractor. Eva, now the temporary evening charge nurse, was a somber, no-nonsense type. She’d been Anna’s second in charge. Not Anna’s choice for the job because she lacked the personal touch Anna loved to give her patients, but they weren’t her patients anymore. They were Eva’s.

  “You work here?” a tired old man asked. He was slumped in a waiting-room chair, drinking a Coke while Margaret was checking in an ATV accident—two victims, four broken legs. “’Cause I got this powerful burnin’ in my privates and I’ve been waitin’ here for hours. Think you could get someone to take a look at me pretty soon?”

  “Burning, like when you urinate?” Anna asked automatically.

  “No, ma’am. It’s not inside like that. It’s on the outside. A rash. Think I got into some poison ivy or something. Out fishing on the riverbank and, well, you know. When a man’s gotta go…Don’t guess I paid much attention to where I went and now it’s got me in a real mess.”

  She could handle that, even in her chair. Take him back to a cubicle, take a look, call the doctor to prescribe ointment or prednisone. Simple thing, really. And she was so tempted. Not because she relished the treatment of skin rashes, because she didn’t. That duty normally went to students. But because she could do it, and he expected her to do it in spite of her wheelchair.

  Yes, she was tempted, but not resigned. This wasn’t hers anymore. None of it. Like Kyle, what had once fit so perfectly in her life no longer did. She was merely the observer. Her heart clutched at the thought…at the loss.

  “I’ll go see if I can find someone to have a look,” she said, struggling to force the words, words that didn’t want to come.

  The c
orridor back to the central station was a flurry of people in and out. Nurses running with arms full of supplies, doctors shouting orders, patients moaning and crying, patients’ families and friends trying to waylay anyone in scrubs for an answer. So much commotion, and it seemed so long ago that she was in the middle of it.

  She’d loved nights like this—lots of activity, the adrenaline rush that had always got her through. Non-stop hustle, then suddenly the onslaught was over and the only things remembered were the successes and failures, and the faces. Never the hours. She wondered, for a moment, how her trauma team remembered that night—as a success, or a failure? Perhaps they only remembered her face. Or maybe that had already faded from memory, as had most of the faces that had passed through her care over the years.

  Tonight, the gentleman with poison ivy would have to wait even longer than he already had, and Anna was on her way back to the waiting room to suggest he go find an immediate care clinic when suddenly a woman burst through the doors carrying a limp, bloodied child in her arms. “Somebody help us,” she screamed. “Please, he’s dying.” Even without a good look Anna recognized a GSW—gunshot wound. To his head.

  Immediately the nurse in her took over and she instructed the hysterical mother to lay her little boy on a gurney sitting across from the station. “Margaret, call CT and tell them we’ve got one coming right up, then call the blood bank,” she shouted at the triage nurse. “Order up ten units of O-neg until we can get him typed and crossed. And get Neuro down here, stat. Also tell the OR to stand by.” The boy’s life was oozing away with so much blood loss, and there was so much to do to save him. Her mind was clicking off the list… “Call the lab,” she yelled at Margaret, who was already on the phone. “Besides type and cross we need a blood gas and a CBC. And we need to get an IV in him…plasma.” Volume extenders, a make-do to keep his blood pressure up until the blood arrived. She wheeled herself to the supply cart and grabbed the IV set-up, as she’d done thousands of times before—tubing, IV catheter, a butterfly since his veins were so tiny, Betadine scrubs to sterilize the site. Then she grabbed sterile gauze to apply as a dressing to his head and moved to the side of the gurney.