The last forty-eighthours has been too much. I’ve sequestered myself in the hospital. I took a shower this morning because Dr. Nash said I smelled depressing. That tracks. I wish I only felt depressed. I’m one loose shoelace away from crumbling and falling apart. I signed on for an extra shift in the ER for any pediatric cases, which turned a lot of heads. Food? I don’t think I’ve eaten. I’m not hungry. If I go another full day, I’ll probably need a banana bag with fluids and electrolytes to keep me on my feet.
“You need to go home,” Dr. Nash says after paging me to her office.
I scoff at her, avoiding eye contact. I know I look like shit, and I’m shuffling around the hallways of one of the finest hospitals in the country, looking like I’m dead on my feet. “I’m fine here. I have rounds to make.” I motion to stand up, trying to end this conversation as soon as possible.
“We’re not done, Jon.” She rarely addresses me by my first name. Dr. Nash is the most skilled compartmentalizer I’ve ever worked with. She doesn’t mesh any two parts of her life. I envy her so much at this moment. I feel like my entire life has been shaken up like a snow globe, all the snow and glitter swirling around, mixing, churning all around. I can’t sort through any of it.
“I need to keep working,Helen.” The slight twitch in her right eyebrow lets me know she doesn’t appreciate being called by her first name, but she’s not scolding me like a petulant child.
“You need sleep. You need to eat. Your patients need you at a hundred percent.”
“My patients?! What good am I to themever? All I’m doing is making them feel slightly better, when I know, deep down, it won’t matter. I can’t stop death. They’re too sick. And I’m too…” My voice cracks, all my feelings of worthlessness and helplessness are swallowing me whole.I’m not a god. I don’t have special powers to stop death from taking these innocent children.
I’ve lost patients before, but Sammy’s death is too much to accept. I failed. Him. His mom.Jacob.
“No one expects you to be their savior, Jon.”
“I just…I need to keep working, Dr. Nash.” I look up at her, my eyes watery, hoping she hears my plea, and my request to switch back to formalities.
“No. You need to leave, and process Sammy’s death. You think he’s going to be the only patient who carves a place into your heart?” She stands up and walks to her wall of artwork made by former patients. I never asked about them—who they were, what their outcomes were. “I had a mentor, early in my career,” she begins again, keeping her back to me. I hear the tone in her voice shift, becoming more solemn.
I lean forward in my chair, curious to hear what she has to say. Dr. Nash has been my greatest mentor. I’ve learned so much about medicine, patient care, and life as a doctor, from her in the last two years.
“He said really good doctors always develop a form of a god complex, and manage to separate themselves from their patients. I didn’t want to be areally gooddoctor. And I know you don’t either, Jon. We want to begreat. I see it in your eyes. Great doctors acknowledge that they’re not God. We accept that we’re only human, doing our very best,everydamn day, to help our patients feel a little better.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t understand what this has to do with anything. I’m too emotionally exhausted for this pep talk. I’ve known for a long time thatI’mnot God, let alone that one even exists.
“Because I see you on the brink of giving up, Jon. I see youbreaking on the inside and doing your best not to. You’re surrounding yourself with case files, non-stop days. You’re not letting yourself stop.” She walks towards me and pulls up the other chair, facing me. “I need you to allow yourself to break. I need you to allow yourself to feel Sammy’s death. You truly did everything you could. You never gave up on him, even when we knew the chances of him surviving were so low. You gave Sammy hope and strength to fight for as long as he did. You gave him life for a little bit longer,andyou helped Wendy in the moments of his death. You’re going to be great, Jon.Thisis the sacrifice we make for greatness. We carry their deaths and learn from them.”
She places her hand on her chest, and I feel the burning pain of my heart breaking within mine. I don’t want to feel this pain. I can’t stop it from overtaking me.
I misshimso much.
I don’t want to think about how much I miss him. I need to get back to work. My mother’s grating voice is on replay in my ears,it’s the right thing to do, Jon.
The memory of my brother comes back to me in a flash.
“Is it possible to be hot and cold at the same time?” Jacob asks, trying to laugh at his misery. He’s always been able to make jokes.
“I found a book at the library that said chills and temperature swings are caused by a fever. Which could be a sign of an infection, or virus,” I say, bringing him a fresh blanket that’s not soaked in his sweat.
“Jon! You know you’re not supposed to go to the library. What if Mom and Dad find out?” he asks, worried, but too weak to raise his voice at me.
“They’re not going to find out. I was very discrete. With you sick, we’re all working more on the farm. They’re distracted,” I reassure him.
“Still. You don’t need to read a book. I’ll be okay. Like always,” he says.
He’s older than me by two years. He’s my favorite person. I mean, I hardly know anybody else. Our community is small. We really only interact with other people at church. I’ve been doing my job and praying every day and night for Jacob to get better. He’s right. We’ve gotten sick in the past, butnothing like this. He’s been sick for almost two weeks now. He’s strong and fit. He can throw a hay bale over his head like it weighs nothing. And now, he’s curled up in bed, looking pale as a ghost.
“Come on, Jon. Dinner!” Mom calls for me.
“Go. Bring me back a plate. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down, but I’ll try,” he groans, rolling onto his other side.
“Yea. That book said you need to stay hydrated and eat,” I say.
“Shush with the books. I don’t need that. Just keep praying for me Jon. God will heal me. I’ll be fine in no time.”
Dr. Nash hands me a box of tissues. I’m quick to dry my eyes and sniff back any snot that starts running down my nose.
