But I’m not just a woman in this situation, I’m a mom. And while motherhood doesn’t define me, I’m not going to leave my husband and blow up my children’s life over one mistake. Patrick is a good husband in every way that counts. And I love him.
I need to hold on to that.
Still… hearing him try to pin what he did on me?
That’s not something I’ll forget anytime soon.
Thankfully, I have work today to keep my mind busy and the distraction of the new Director.
I applied for that position, but apparently, I “don’t have enough experience.” I didn’t take it personally, especially since none of my brilliant, seasoned colleagues got it either. Instead, management, geniuses that they are, decided to bring in someone completely new.
Whatever.
Just my luck, I found out yesterday that their first official day is today. While I’m on shift.
And thanks to hospital rules, the ER always needs at least one licensed physician present to supervise residents and interns. Because we’re chronically understaffed and very cost-efficient, we only schedule one doctor at a time. We get overlaps at the start and end of shifts, and standbys in case of emergencies, but the bulk of the day?
We’re alone.
The upside is we get more breaks than most ER physicians. Less pay, sure, but a real life outside the hospital.
At least… in theory. It’s not really possible tosit back and kick it with a beerwhen you could be called in at any moment. That’s why we have so many burnouts.
They don’t actually schedule standbys, no matter what the policy says, so it’s basically a game of Russian roulette. Who gets called in? Who gets written up for being “unavailable”?
One of the many things I would’ve tackled as Director.
But I’m sure the new guy or gal will get right on that.
You know… after they figure out where the bathrooms are.
I slam my locker shut harder than necessary. The metal clang echoes through the room. I close my eyes and draw in slow breaths, thank you Lamaze class.
In for four.
Hold.
Out for six.
I am here to save lives.
My personal life doesnotmatter inside this building. Here, Iam Dr. Boise. Not Mrs. Boise. Not the woman whose husband almost-
I shake that thought off so hard I feel my ponytail whip my shoulder.
Work.
Work is safe.
Work makes sense.
People bleed; I fix them.
People break; I stitch them back together.
If only marriages were that easy
Patrick
