I hesitated until Tiffany told me that it was good to talk about something like that. She was right. I needed to get it off my chest. After I explained how awful it had been for me to hold a dying child in my arms, and the fact that Dr. Aldridge literally pulled me off the floor and led me back upstairs to face Jimmy’s parents, Corey nodded.
I was curious to know why he would nod. He had not lost a patient–not that any of us knew.
“Have you something to add?” Gerald asked him. “Do you know something we don’t?”
“As a matter of fact I do, Gerald,” Corey replied. “The reason I nodded is because one of the nurses that attended to my kids from the bus, told me that she was one of the staff who took Jimmy to the morgue. She also told me that when she saw Dr. Aldridge come out to help you, Heather, she recalled something that happened to him not so long ago.”
“Oh? And what was that?” I queried; all ears now.
“He lost a boy in his family, apparently in a car accident. He couldn’t save him either. It was too late when the kid arrived at the hospital.” Corey paused to look at me. “The exact same thing as what happened to you.”
I lowered my gaze to my lap. I felt like an utter fool then. How could I have been so selfish? Not only did I ignore the parents’ feelings in favor of mine, but I realized that I had totally set aside the fact that in his ten years at the hospital, Jeff must have seen many deaths and possibly some of these were of people very close to him. I felt like an eel. Horrible.
It took me several days to return my mind to normal–not that it would ever be the same now–and to return to a soothing routine at home. I went back to jogging every morning, and even encouraged Tiffany to accompany me. I wanted her to get out of the rut she seemed to have fallen into since she moved in with me. She would make the perfect little wife to someone someday, I thought. She was doing most of the shopping, taking care of the laundry (not that we had much of it), and was the first to stand in front of the stove on Sunday to get our meals ready for the week. Therefore, she needed to get out.
On the first day, she trotted with me to the park and was out of breath already–we hadn’t even gone through the gate yet!
I didn’t mind. I asked her to walk with me all around the park once. “Then we go home, okay?”
She nodded and began walking. The next day we repeated the exercise and we walked a little faster–we were almost power-walking on the third day–and she enjoyed it. By the end of the week, Tiffany was trotting with me around the park. I was sure she was going to be jogging in another week or so. Yet, the best thing about it was the fact that she felt very good. She seemed to be a lot more energetic. And she even left the car in the garage after the first week. We were both walking to work at that point.
In the meantime, all the interns, as I knew it would happen, were assigned to different department throughout the hospital. It was not difficult for me to avoid seeing Jeff. In the first week, I was working with the CT scan guys on the third floor while Jeff was probably in the dungeon for the better part of each day. C.T. scans and M.R.I’s are invaluable tools in modern medicine. What could not be detected twenty years ago, can be readily visible today. Even for a simple fracture of the shoulder, which used to be only x-rayed and reset surgically, can now be viewed from all angles before the patient is treated. And often times there aren’t any need for surgery, whereas in the old days, the doctors would only discover the “complications” when they opened the patients’ shoulders.
These darn “complications” we hear so much about in every facets of medicine, are simply unexpected occurrences that cannot be avoided once a patient begins treatment. It can be as simple as a side effect from a drug to a severe internal bleeding during a surgical procedure. Neither are the doctors or the surgeon’s fault. Yet, most of the time a doctor will blame himself or herself for their lack of foresight. One might think it’s ridiculous to do so, but I can tell you, I will be the first to blame myself for any of these “complications”. I have never been easy on me.
The following week, once Izzy was discharged, I was assigned to work in the children’s ward. That one was a hard assignment. Perhaps it’s because I’m a female doctor, but seeing a child suffer is not something I could take on a day-to-day basis. Pedagogy is not given to everyone. I am not a pedagogue by any stretch of the imagination. That’s not to say I couldn’t be a good mother; it’s simply a case of understanding (or not understanding) what a child needs. You see, most adult patients can tell you where it hurts and how it hurts. But when it comes to a child, you rely solely on your ability to communicate with him or her. Of course, you see and acknowledge the symptoms and treat the disease or injury, but when there is a lack of pedagogy, you are not giving your little patient the best of care.
During that week, thankfully, I was assisting an excellent woman–in every sense of the word. Not only was she absolutely radiant and gorgeous to look at, she was the real thing. She knew how to handle children. Dr. Astrid was an artist. I saw her attending an appendectomy on a little guy who was screaming his head off when he came in. Dr. Astrid was the only one able to stop him and to rein his emotions in. Not even his mother was able to calm him down. When he was out of surgery and resting comfortably, Mark would have eaten out of Dr. Astrid’s hand. She was his savior, although he had insulted her on a couple of occasions the previous day.
Chapter 15
The third week’s assignment was definitely a different experience. Although it consisted mainly in monitoring cancer patients’ progress (or lack thereof), the feeling of despair that seemed to overshadow everything we did in the ward was sometimes intolerable. Most of the patients were staying in the hospital for a few days, or a week maybe, after an operation that would have removed a tumor from one organ or another. Others came in for their final visit. Those were all sad and suffering faces. Looking at them was harder than I ever thought it would be. Hope had abandoned them. They had closed the lid on Pandora’s Box, but hope had not remained within it. Their faces reflected a silent expectation. They wanted to die. I had never seen anyone having such feelings. Perhaps this is where the euthanasia proponents could be winning their battles. Those men and women want and need to die. They were prepared to die. Their families were all prepared for their passing; yet, their suffering was only prolonged for as long as it took for death to knock on their doors, finally.
Of course, the worst of them all are the faces of these young people dying from AIDS. That’s the most horrible and agonizing death one could think of.
During the week, I had to turn away. I had to get out and go to the garden terrace on the floor. Dr. Lennox came to join me at a time he saw me at my lowest ebb of despair and helplessness. He was an older man who probably had seen many of his patients die from cancer.
“If you are a believer,” he said, “this is only the threshold to a better life. If you’re not, you soon become one.”
I turned my face to him. “Do you believe in God, Doctor?”
“Oh yes. I have to believe that my failings, my incapacity to cure these patients, is only human. There is someone or something with blessed hands that can do much better than I can. I surrender my patients into God’s hands, Dr. Williams. Remember: “If God decides it’s time for this human being to leave this earth, there is nothing anyone of us can do. Right or wrong, the life of that patient is in your hands until God decides otherwise”.”
“Dr. Slosberg’s words, aren’t they?”
“Yes, Dr. Williams. In this hospital, his words are gospel, because he is almost always right.”
“So, he is the god among us, is he?”
“Absolutely. And for good reasons. Not only is he right about most things, but he’s honest about his failings.”
“Does he have any?”
“The only one I know of is him smoking a cigar on a summer night at the end of a hard day, which he does sitting outside at the upstairs café.”
I had to laugh quietly when I envisioned the litt
le man with a large cigar in his mouth. “What does he do in the winter; does he still go outside in the cold?”
Dr. Lennox laughed with me. “Not that I know of. Maybe he has a secret place where he can do it in peace.”
The harshness of that assignment had been broken during that little chat. I felt grateful to Dr. Lennox. He was a wonderful man.
All twelve of us were beginning to relax. We fell in step with the doctors who supervised us and the twelve-hour days seemed shorter somehow. That Friday night, I had just finished my stint in the amputation and physiotherapy centers when Tiffany called me on my cell to tell me that we were all going to Hostel–a bar close to the hospital–for a drink.
I was looking forward to a break. I didn’t particularly want to go home. My mother was due to call me and I truly didn’t want to speak to her. She hadn’t stopped complaining about my dad’s condition since she told me that he had dementia that was likely to be Alzheimer’s. He was to receive his pacemaker this coming Monday and my mother talked as if this was a major surgery. Although, it’s not as simple as re-setting a broken arm (which might not be that simple come to think of it), but it’s generally not life threatening either. She can leave a message on either of my phones, I thought as I went to the locker room to change.
Working with the physiotherapists for the past week, I was dressed in gym shorts, yoga trousers, or spandex every day. I had left a pair of jeans in my locker, which I was happy to find. One doesn’t go to the bar in yoga pants, I thought. Even if some people do, I generally prefer not to.
For some reason I was in a hurry to get there. Once again, I longed for my friends’ company. Yes, the interns and I had become friends. We had gone through the fields of battle every day for weeks now, so we had become quite attached to one another.
As I came in the bar, I saw our group sitting at a table in the corner of the establishment. Washington residents must have a penchant for Old English pubs. Many of the favorite bars in the city are replicas of existing London or Scotland haunts. I must admit that the dark wood paneling, the warmth of a fireplace, a mahogany counter, and wooden stools have an inevitable welcoming effect on many people. I am one of them.
As my gaze traveled around the bar, it fell on one of its patrons. Dr. Aldridge was sitting, alone, on a stool facing the bar. He didn’t notice me come in. Which was what I wanted. I didn’t want to talk to him in front of my friends. But he was not to ignore my presence for very long, thank to Corey for bursting into a bellowing voice to announce my arrival.
I could have crawled under the tables and hide. I just didn’t like to be put under a spotlight, especially when it attracted the attention of the very man I was trying so hard to avoid. It was not a case of not liking the guy; it was a case of finding him absolutely irresistible.
Yet, not to do the right thing and acknowledge his presence would have been worse than ignoring him. My companions would have noticed and draw the wrong conclusions.
“Hey there, Dr. Williams, what brings you down to our watering hole,” Jeff said, as he turned to me.
“Hi. How are you?” I replied, standing beside him.
“Just fine. And you?”
“I just wanted…” I began saying.
“Don’t say it, Doctor. I know.”
“You know what? Do you know I am sorry for what happened? Do you know that I need to apologize for my conduct? It was very selfish of me.”
“Stop right there, Dr. Williams. We’re all here in this pub to have a good time–not to rake the past or to apologize for a behavior that was totally understandable.”
“I’m just sorry if I acted as a self-centered idiot that night. That’s all.” I was about to turn away and join my companion’s table, when Jeff took my hand.
“Come here,” he said, leading me to the anteroom adjacent to the bar. It was probably used as a smoking room in the old days. “You never acted as an idiot, self-centered or not. It’s not in your nature and you’re not any such thing in my eyes, Heather.”
“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear as he took me in his arms for a brief embrace. Once again, his body against mine was nothing less than electrifying. I had to be there in his arms. It felt as if I should have been there every day since we met.
“Let’s go,” he said, pushing me toward the ladies’ room. I didn’t care where we were going, all I wanted was him.
He locked the door and leaned my body against the wall. He unzipped my jeans and slipped his hand in my panties. Just a touch from him sent me flying into heavenly lust. I slipped out of my jeans and had my legs clamped around his waist by the time he had opened his trousers. He carried me to the first toilet stall and sat me down while he went down on his knees. He took my panties off while I was still kissing him. He then went down and began licking my clitoris. That’s all I needed and wanted. I had to keep my mouth shut; otherwise, I would have screamed my utmost delight. It had been too long between visits. All I could do was to bury my face in his hair and enjoy his delicate ministrations until he began caressing and then rubbing my breasts and nipples. That was it! I could have yelled the house down, so violent my first orgasm was. He smiled as he watched me going from one tremor of satisfaction to another. God All Mighty, it felt fantastic.
When I calmed down a little, for he was still massaging my breasts, I took his penis into my mouth and began to suck him until he, too, moaned with pleasure. He was more than ready to take me, to penetrate me. I wanted him inside me as I never wanted a man in me before. I could not deny him. I could not refuse him. I stood up as he took a condom out of his pocket and slipped it on. He then pushed me against the partition and penetrated me while rubbing my clitoris until I couldn’t help but groan. So good it felt. When his penis prodded for my lips and entered my vagina again, I was ready to burst.
A moment later, our ultimate enjoyment was mutual and lasted as long as we could hold ourselves up. We both went down to the floor slowly while kissing each other. He then lowered his head between my breasts silently.
When we finally stood up and regained a smidgen of composure, he threw the condom in the toilet while I went to the sink to clean myself up as best I could. Five minutes later, we were both dressed and ready to face the world again. Of course, my face was flushed and my hands were still trembling. As for my heart, it took another few minutes for it to regain its normal rhythm. Thank goodness for jogging.
When I came out of the washroom, I felt as if all eyes were on me. But since no one was in the anteroom, no one had noticed me come out. I adopted a normal walking stance, went across the bar and sat down beside Tiffany at my friends’ table.
“Where have you been?” she asked in undertone, bending to my ear.
“Nowhere,” I replied. “I was just in the bathroom putting my face on. Why?”
“Did you talk to Dr. Hottie?” She peered into my eyes. “He was here a minute ago.”
“Yes, I know. And yes, Mom, I had a few words with him.”
“What are you drinking,” Corey asked, getting up. “My round.”
“I’ll have a gin and tonic, thanks,” I answered.
“Anybody else want something?”
“Since you’re so generous, Corey, why don’t you bring a beer for all of us?”
“Yes, Gerald, a beer for each of us you mean?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant.”
Although I generally don’t drink beer, I wasn’t going to be “the odd woman out”. I didn’t say anything. Yet, Corey came back with eleven beers and one G&T.
Since I had my back to the wall and I was facing the bar, I saw Jeff get up from his stool a few minutes later. He smiled at me discreetly. I returned the smile as our eyes met.
When we finally got home, the first thing I noticed was the message light on my phone. I looked at the call display. My mother had called–of course. I listened to her as Tiffany and I plopped down on the sofa.
“I know it’s Friday night, and you’re probably out with your frie
nds, but you could have given me a call before you left. I am all alone here to look after your dad. You don’t care, as usual. Anyway, call me when you get home.”
I looked at the kitchen clock. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. I shook my head. There was no way I would call my mom at this hour of the night. It would wake my father abruptly, which is not a recommended thing to do when you know the man has arrhythmia. He could have an attack from the shock.
Tiffany knew what I was thinking. “Call them in the morning, Hattie. It’s not going to make any difference, except that perhaps you’ll save your dad from having an attack.”
“Exactly what I thought. I’ll call Mom in the morning before we go jogging.”
“What do you mean ‘we’? I’ll have you know I am not getting up before noon tomorrow. So, you can go jogging on your own. Me, I’ll do all the jogging in bed.”
“No good, Tiff. You can’t break the routine; otherwise, you’ll grow fat.”
“I know, I know, but right now, I don’t care. I am going to bed.” And with those words, Tiffany Jensen got up and marched to her bedroom.
Chapter 16
The morning came far too quickly. Yet, it was a gorgeous fall day. The leaves were turning to rust and the lawns were still green. I truly love that time of year. Everything seems fresh and quiet. But before putting my nose outside, I had to call my dear mother. I had to re-assure her once again that I was still alive, that I had not been kidnapped, that Dad would be just fine, that the operation would go as planned and that “No, I can’t move back to Omaha, Mom!”
“But what am I going to do, Heather? I cannot look after him any more. It’s worse than having a child in the house.”
“And you’re the one who wanted grandchildren, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course I want grandkids, but that’s different. They’re not there twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, asking you the same question even though you’ve already repeated the same answer a hundred times.”
Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) Page 11
