“If it goes a day past six weeks, I reserve the right to show up at your place and make passive-aggressive comments until she blows her top.”
“That will only punish me,” I said with a laugh.
“For a minute, yeah, but then she’ll invent a spiffy new reason to get the fuck out.” She pointed to my phone, adding,“What else is going on? You look like you’re chewing on a lump of coal over there.”
“Cossapino wrote me a dissertation-length email about thetime-honored traditionsof surgical resident training. He endured it and therefore they should be able to endure it too. Apparently there’s no reason to alter a system that’s served us so well for generations.”
“He was emotionally abused as a resident and therefore it’s not only his right but his duty to abuse every resident who passes through his service. Sounds like a rock-solid system.”
“He goes on to say that, according to him,lowering the barwill lead to negative patient outcomes and therefore he will not be implementing my committee’s new professional standards. Despite the very clear messaging that it’s not optional.”
“Constapino is full of shit and he will fall in line the second the chief blinks hard in his direction,” Meri replied. “Don’t let yourself get worked up about that gasbag.”
“Okay, sure, but I have Pecklewithe telling me that he’s not about to alter his method of teaching to accommodate the new generation of surgeons and theirthin, woke skin. If they cannot tolerate his mentoring, they won’t complete his rotation.”
“It’s funny how Peckerwithe is so sensitive,” she murmured. “It’s almost like he’s too fragile to adapt to new situations. I wonder if there’s any way to help him with that.” She tapped her chin. “Probably not. Best to see if he’ll sink or swim.”
“Then we have Bass yelling—literally, the whole email is written in all caps—that anyone entering the medical profession knows they’ll be subject to difficult, directive feedback and we’re only doing a disservice to the program by watering it down by centering residents’ feelings.”
“Big Mouth Bass? He’s an all-caps rageaholic.”
“Yeah, but also, we’re just asking attendings to acknowledge that it’s unnecessary and unproductive to engage inanyabusiveconduct. Is that really too much to ask? Perhaps the issue and the solution speak for themselves?”
She rolled her green eyes. “You’re assuming a lot of these guys. Most of whom still believe that mental illness is all in your head and gynecology is to blame for every issue women present with.”
“Maybe I am expecting too much, but I also have Sadiskowski bitching about?—”
“What does the Sadist have to say now? I cannot wait to hear this.”
“He’s pissed that we’re mandating implicit bias training. He claims that his teaching is equitable for all residents and his delivery of care is equitable for all patients, and he can’t possibly give up OR time for a training he doesn’t need.”
“That man calls every scrub nurse Blondie. He could do with a minute of reeducation.”
“It kills me how so many of these people are exceptional physicians and surgeons, and they’re also incapable of considering the possibility that they have anything to learn where it comes to training residents and generally not being toxic dickheads.”
Meri nodded for a moment as she poked at the olives and peppers. “I understand why you put yourself in the line of fire by chairing this committee and I understand that it’s personal to you, but I don’t understand why you’re letting the sausage brigade get to you. We’ve never given a single fuck what they have to say so why are we doing it now?”
“Because I need this to work,” I said. I’d dedicated the past year to leading a committee to develop and implement professional standards of conduct. I’d thrown myself into this project, dedicating every spare second I had to gaining the support of the board of directors, hospital leadership, the school of medicine, and all the department heads. And I’d sworn that itwould only take another year to get it off the ground. “All of my credibility is on the line here. I’m the face of this thing, and if it goes up in flames, I’ll have to start looking for the emergency exit.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Meri said. “Everything will work itself out. It always does. Your sister will kick up another one of her chaos tornadoes and the wieners at the hospital will huff and puff and make themselves look like tools. We’re not going to worry about them, especially not when Chief Hartshorn is squarely on your side.”
“I know, but?—”
“Nope,” she snapped. “Don’t even start. We are on vacation for five more days and we’ve already granted too much of our precious time to the wieners. Put the phone away or I’ll make good on that promise to wrestle you for it.”
I made a show of dropping the device into my tote bag.
“Good girl,” she said with a wide grin. “Now, hand mama some SPF. This sun is going to turn me into redheaded jerky.”
After Meri applied another thick layer of sunscreen, I said, “So, thebodies in the lakeguy.”
She grunted around a wedge of pita but didn’t meet my eyes. “What about him?”
“Did you crush his entire spirit? Or just part of it?”
For a long moment, she didn’t respond. Her lips pulled tight into a line as she picked at a chunk of grilled artichoke. “He’s fine.” She cleared her throat. “So, the best man.”
I plucked a green olive off the tray. “How’d you know?”
