High October

by Elena Graf

  “Why do you love me?” asked Maggie.

  Liz thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Do I need a reason?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Do you know why you love me?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  Liz gave her a quizzical look, but moments later, Dr. Connelly appeared, smiling broadly. How could anyone look so joyful about cutting up someone’s body? Did Liz look like that when she greeted her patients before surgery?

  “I’m going to mark the breast we operating on today. It’s to make sure we’re operating on the right one. The marker comes off with some isopropyl alcohol. Dr. Stolz knows.” Ellen opened the gown and drew some figures on Maggie’s breast with a black marker. She patted Maggie’s arm. “Don’t worry about a thing. Dr. Stolz will be there watching me like a hawk!” She smiled and headed off through the double doors.

  Maggie frowned. “She’s certainly cheerful.”

  “We encourage surgeons to look cheerful and optimistic before a procedure to allay the patient’s fears. I’m afraid Ellen learned that particular lesson a little too well. Too bad she can’t apply it in the exam room.”

  “Will you really be watching her?”

  “Yes, but only because she keeps teasing me about it, but don’t worry. I made sure she’s the best breast surgeon in the country.”

  “Next to you.”

  Liz smiled and kissed her forehead. “Yes, next to me.”

  The nurse came to start the sedative drip. Maggie watched her land the needle in her arm on the first try.

  When they were alone again, Liz took Maggie’s hand. “You’ll be asleep in no time. The nurses will prep you. I need to scrub.” She gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then raised it to her lips and kissed it.

  “I love you, Liz.”

  “Me too. See you in a few minutes. It’s a very short procedure.”

  That was the last thing Maggie remembered before opening her eyes again. Liz was standing there in surgical scrubs.

  “When are we going in?” Maggie asked.

  Liz chuckled and patted her thigh. “It’s all over. Ellen got great margins. You may have a little dimple in that breast, but otherwise you’ll hardly know we were in there.”

  “You were in there too?” Maggie was surprised, especially after hearing all Liz’s protests about being involved in the surgery.

  Liz looked momentarily sheepish. “Ellen insisted I inspect her margins. That mentor-protégé thing can be hard to shake. I think she just wanted to reassure me that she’d gotten it all.”

  Maggie felt a little spasm of anxiety. “Does she know we’re a couple?”

  “Of course. Everyone here knew about me and Jenny too. When we bought the house, we decided we should come out to our coworkers. Is that a problem?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  Liz ran her fingers down Maggie’s cheek. “This is way too much conversation for someone just waking up from anesthesia. I’m going to get dressed. They’ll be throwing us out of here soon. Here’s Linda to get you ready for discharge.”

  A moment later, a middle-aged, blonde nurse came in to remove the IV lines. “How are you doing, Ms. Krusick?” Her voice was cheerful, and her smile warm.

  “I’m so glad it’s over. It was so quick!”

  “Dr. Connelly is fast, but very thorough. Dr. Stolz trained her well.”

  “Did you work with Liz…uh…Dr. Stolz?”

  “I sure did…when I was still an ER nurse. She’s a phenomenal surgeon. We really miss her.” Linda frowned and looked thoughtful. “I never understood why she quit. Guess she just got sick of it. A lot of them do. Then they retire early to play golf.”

  Maggie couldn’t imagine Liz retiring to play golf. In fact, she didn’t know if Liz played golf.

  “Dr. Stolz practices family medicine in Maine,” Maggie said proudly.

  Linda smiled, but Maggie could tell it was old news to her. “I bet she’s a great family doctor. She’s so smart. Good to her patients too.” She smiled at Maggie and lowered the gurney to sitting level with a few taps of her foot. “Think you can make it to the chair with my help?”

  Maggie nodded, although she was still quite woozy and unsteady on her feet. She leaned heavily on the nurse as she moved toward the chair. “Take it easy. There’s no rush.” Finally, Maggie made it to the chair. The nurse gave her a gadget with a little ball in it and a breathing tube. She explained that Maggie was to raise the ball with her breaths until it reached the mark on the side of the tube. “It helps to push out the anesthesia and clear your lungs. It will also get rid of that groggy feeling.” Maggie took a deep breath and blew into the gadget. Raising the ball with her breath was harder to do than she’d expected.

  “Deep breaths!” Linda watched Maggie struggle to raise the ball in the tube. Maggie tried harder. The ball went up a little farther each time.

  The nurse began to strip the gurney. “Maine is beautiful. I love it up there. My husband and I go to Camden every fall.”

  Maggie let go of the mouthpiece. “Yes, it is beautiful. I’ve enjoyed the fall up there.”

  Liz came back, looking smart in her tailored suit.

  “Thanks, Linda. I can take it from here. You finish your paperwork. I can go over the post-op drill later when she’s more alert.”

  “Are you sure? Doctors make lousy nurses.”

  Liz laughed. “So I’ve been told, but I have learned a few tricks since becoming a GP.”

  “Take good care of your patient there. She’s still pretty dizzy from the anesthesia.”

  “I’ll take her out in a chair. She’ll be fine.”

  Linda gave Liz a critical look. “Haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still doing that tough love routine.”

  “Always works, doesn’t it? People rise to the occasion.”

  Linda shook her head. “Don’t let her push you around, Ms. Krusick. She can be like a bulldozer sometimes. Nice meeting you.” She gave Liz a disapproving look before she went through the double doors.

  Liz had brought Maggie’s clothes from her locker. She yanked over the curtain for privacy. Maggie had chosen the softest flannel shirt from her thrift shop haul because Liz had encouraged her to bring a button-down shirt, explaining that it might hurt to lift her arm at first.

  “It’s a pretty quick recovery,” said Liz as she helped Maggie get her arm into the sleeve. “A lumpectomy is not really much of a surgical procedure. You’re working outside the body cavity, so there’s no big vascular involvement. Breasts are mostly just fat anyway. But it’s a sensitive area because it’s so densely innervated.”

  Maggie listened to Liz casually discuss the operation. It almost sounded as if she were dismissing the importance of it. “That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your breast.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” Liz narrowed her eyes. “I’m only saying how lucky you are to get away with a simple procedure because your tumor is tiny. Otherwise, we probably would have sampled some nodes, which means you’d have an incision in your armpit too.”

  The lecture reminded Maggie of how the fertility doctors used to talk to her. “Thanks for your thoughts on the matter. It does hurt quite a bit, if you’d like to know the truth.”

  Liz evidently missed the sarcasm. She frowned with concern. “Ellen called in a script to the pharmacy. We’ll pick it up on the way to the house.” An orderly arrived with a wheelchair. “Here’s your ride. I’ll get your discharge papers from Linda and then get the car. I’ve got your purse.”

  By the time, the orderly brought Maggie to the entrance of the hospital, she regretted being sharp to Liz. She felt even more guilty when Liz helped her into the car, gently arranging the shoulder strap behind her back so it wouldn’t bind or pull on her breast and cause her pain. “All good?”

  “Yes, and thank you.”

 
“Just doing my job.” Liz went around the car to get in the driver’s side. “We’ll stop for your meds first. Once we get you home, we’ll take a little walk to get the anesthesia out of your system. Then it’s nothing but rest for you for the rest of the day. I’ll watch old movies with you, if you feel up for it.”

  “Sounds divine, but do you mind if I take a little nap? I’m suddenly very tired.”

  “A walk on the beach will cure that. The salt air will wake you right up!”

  When Liz pulled up to the pharmacy window, she was able to provide Maggie’s date of birth without a moment’s hesitation.

  “How can you remember my birthday after all these years?”

  Liz shrugged. “Physicians are trained to remember details.”

  When the time for payment came, Liz handed the clerk her credit card.

  “Liz! You don’t need to pay for my prescriptions!”

  “Why not? I’m closer to the window. Besides, it’s only seventeen dollars.”

  The clerk returned with an electronic tablet, which she handed to Liz. “Ms. Krusick will have to sign for the percocet. It’s the new law in Connecticut.” Liz passed the tablet over to Maggie, who signed it with the stylus. Finally, the clerk handed over a white bag containing the pills and a receipt five feet long.

  “Do you need the pharmacist to explain anything about these medications?” the young woman asked politely.

  “No, thanks. I’m a physician. I can explain it to her.”

  ***

  As Liz had predicted, a leisurely walk on the beach helped Maggie feel more alert and she could breathe more easily. Her chest felt much less congested. They sat on a bench near the water’s edge and watched the wake from passing boats roll up and slap the sea wall. Despite the little crispness in the air, Maggie enjoyed the play of the wind in her hair. “It’s so beautiful here. How could you ever bear to leave it?”

  “It wasn’t easy, but I wanted to establish the practice in Maine while I still had the spit to do it. In five years, I might not have the energy to take on something so ambitious.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you would. That nurse, Linda said a lot of surgeons get sick of it and retire to play golf. Why didn’t you?”

  “Well, I don’t play golf,” Liz replied with a grin, “so that was never an option. I thought about quitting medicine. Then I read about the shortage of doctors in Maine. Of course, it’s mostly in rural areas, so buying the practice in Hobbs didn’t really help.”

  “Your intentions were good.” Maggie glanced around. They were alone on the beach, so she felt free to lean against Liz’s shoulder. “Thank you for all your support today. I’m sorry I was snappish.”

  “Surgery is stressful, and you don’t need to keep thanking me. I’m happy to do it for you.”

  “Would you do it if we were still just friends, not lovers?”

  “Of course, I would.”

  Maggie raised her head and studied Liz’s face. “I believe you would.”

  They sat on the bench until the wind off the sound became too cold and damp. As they headed back to the house, Maggie threaded her arm through Liz’s. “Forty years ago, I never would have dared to do this.”

  “Women have always walked arm and arm. Think of all the great cinematic scenes with women walking with linked arms. It’s almost as if political awareness of lesbians spoiled an innocent pleasure and made it somehow dirty.”

  “You don’t think much of gay activism, do you?”

  “I didn’t say that, but I think critically and don’t toe the party line.”

  “No, you’ve never been a follower.”

  Liz opened the side door. The warm air wafting out from inside was welcome. Liz offered to make sandwiches and wagged her head in the direction of the library. “Go sit down and enjoy the view while I make them.”

  After they finished eating, they decided on a Meryl Streep festival. First, The French Lieutenant’s Woman, then Sophie’s Choice. By the time Stingo was crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, Maggie had fallen sound asleep.

  She awoke to the sound of Liz and Jenny in the kitchen. They were speaking softly to avoid waking her, but Jenny’s merry laughter had cut through her sleep. Again, she felt a twinge of jealousy at their easy domesticity. Whenever they were together, it was as if they had never parted. Maggie got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen on stocking feet.

  “Here’s our patient!” announced Jenny in a cheerful voice. She embraced Maggie gingerly, careful to keep away from the breast where the lump had been removed. “I heard it was a huge success. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you.” Maggie stifled a yawn. “I’m so glad it’s over.”

  “I’m glad you’re awake, but I’m going to shoo you and Liz out of my kitchen while I finish dinner. Go watch the news or something.”

  Liz winked behind Jenny’s back and pulled the dish towel off her shoulder. “All yours. Remember. The fish only needs fifteen minutes. Don’t overcook it.”

  “Liz likes her salmon like sushi on the inside,” Jenny explained. “Now out of here. Both of you!”

  Jenny’s dinner of herb encrusted salmon, scalloped potatoes and green salad was excellent, and Maggie freely offered genuine compliments.

  Liz smiled in Jenny’s direction. “Jenny has about five or six dishes that she cooks really well. Once in a while, she makes them to impress company.”

  “Thanks, Liz. I love you too.” Jenny gave Liz a filthy look.

  “I know you do.”

  Maggie watched them, still unable to decide how to read their banter and sexual innuendoes.

  When they were getting ready for bed, Liz volunteered to sleep in another room so Maggie would have plenty of room to make herself comfortable.

  “No, you don’t. I want you right here where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “There are five bedrooms in this house,” Liz explained artlessly.

  “That may be, but you’re sleeping in this one…with me.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Liz gave her a brisk salute and slid into bed beside her. “Wake me if you have pain, and I’ll get your meds for you.” She switched off the bedside lamp, punched her pillow a few times and rolled over.

  “Why did you ever break up with Jenny? You seem so good together.”

  Liz leaned up on her elbow. “It was mostly physical from the beginning. Friends with benefits that lasted longer than either of us expected. As much as I liked to fuck Jenny, I don’t think I was ever in love with her.”

  “Is that why you never married?”

  “Maybe.”

  It was quiet for a long moment.

  “Are you in love with me?” asked Maggie.

  “You need to ask?” Liz was smiling. Maggie could hear it in her voice.

  “Yes, I’m asking. Are you?”

  “I’ve always been in love with you.”

  Chapter 26

  Beverly Birnbaum was a small, birdlike woman with cinnamon-colored hair and piercing blue eyes. Liz had known her since they were residents together in the 1980s. She was the kind of old-school physician who liked to look her patients in the eye and hear their complaints first-hand. She still did physical exams to make sure her patients were fit for chemo and to catch any changes the labs missed. In short, she was like Liz. And they were both New Yorkers who’d grown up immersed in the cultural life of the city, so it was no wonder they had gravitated toward one another and become the best of friends.

  Bev was superb at communicating complex medical information in terms a layman could understand, so there was no need for Liz to translate for Maggie. Instead, she listened intently, absorbing the details of the post-op pathology report, although there was really nothing new beyond a precise measurement of the excised tumor.

  “I’m not recommending chemo,” said Bev. “It’s unnecessary because you have a low-risk cance
r, and chemo won’t make the risk any lower. We will put you on hormone therapy. I’m waiting for the FISH test to see if you’re a candidate for Herceptin.”

  Liz sighed as she listened to Bev explain the side effects of the drug. The damage caused by cancer drugs could be significant, and in the course of selling a treatment, some doctors glossed over the harm they could do. Not Bev. She wasn’t the kind who presumed on her patients’ trust.

  It pleased Liz to hear Maggie asking so many questions. She was paying attention and not taking Bev’s advice uncritically. Too often, Liz saw the good Catholic girl she remembered from their youth. Surviving cancer took grit and sometimes aggressive self-defense. Some doctors were too willing to fill a patient’s veins with drugs that did more harm than good or cut into the body unnecessarily. That’s why Liz had chosen all of Maggie’s physicians carefully. They were all conservative, like she was, and practiced “less is more” medicine.

  Beverly suggested that she could direct the treatments through the cancer unit at Southern Med. “Once we come up with a protocol and treatment plan, your treatments can be administered anywhere. If you’re a candidate for Herceptin, Dr. Stolz could give you the injections. Does that work for you, Ms. Krusick?”

  Maggie nodded. “I prefer that Liz be here for this, so Maine it is.”

  “I do recommend you do genetic testing. That will help you assess your future risks.”

  “We sent a sample,” said Liz. “It will take a couple of weeks. The lab is backed up, as usual.”

  “Let me know the results. If there’s anything significant, we’ll talk.”

  As they waited for the elevator, Liz scanned the instructions for Maggie’s radiation treatments at Southern Med. “Are you satisfied with this strategy for treating your cancer?”

  “Yes, completely. So far, you’ve picked excellent doctors for me.”

  “They are the doctors I would pick for myself if I were in your situation.”

  “If they’re good enough for you, they’re good enough for me.”

  The elevator opened on the first floor. Liz pointed to the exit. “Ready for our foray into Manhattan?”