Chapter 8
Sarah couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think as her feet moved to the first private place she could find, the medical supply closet. In seconds, she was heaving and bawling, mucus running from her nose and down her face. She slid to the floor, doubting everything.
Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe it hadn’t been the right choice. She wasn’t sure that she could handle this level of emotion every day.
She rubbed her chest, trying to ease the pain that lingered there as she sobbed, slowly easing to a sense of control.
This was too close to home and memory of her brother.
She struggled to catch her breath and wiped at her eyes, looking around the closet for paper towels. Finally, she blew her nose and frowned at the smudges on the paper towel. She didn’t have on waterproof mascara.
The door opened and Doctor Struthers entered, then slid to the floor beside her. She couldn’t even look at him. She knew she had to look like an absolute mess.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. It was just as warm and reassuring as before. “The first one is the hardest. I’m sorry to say there will be more.”
She nodded, still unable to speak or look at him.
“I remember my first,” he said.
She finally turned to look at him. The tone of his voice was a bit haunting. He stared at a spot on the wall, and it was clear he was somewhere else entirely.
“My patient. She was fine. Had been fine when I left her that day. She was smiling. She was even laughing when I left—not on the brink of death. Really. It had barely been an hour when the ICU nurse called me back to the floor with the message that her mother wanted to see me. Ziya. That was her name. It’s Arabic for 'light.' I was the resident on call that night but by the time we got the call, it was too late. She was gone. I rode the elevator to her floor and walked to her room numb—and in shock. I could remember my eyes burning fighting the tears but up until that point I was doing okay. Then I saw her—past the divider in her room—lying in her bed looking nothing like she had just an hour earlier, her mother weeping over her body.”
He blinked rapidly and wiped his eye before a tear could form.
“Her mother didn’t even look up. She just cried into the little girl’s shirt and when she finally caught her breath, she asked: ‘What happened? Why did this happen?’” Danny’s shrugged. “I felt like a failure. I had failed my patient and her family. I felt like I hadn’t done enough even though, logically, I knew I had done everything I could as a resident. I trusted in my skills and judgments to get her to the ICU but I had still failed her, because she was dead. I failed her sweet mother who had kept me entertained with beautiful stories of how lucky she was to have such an artistic daughter and a loving family. How could I feel like anything else?” Danny took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. “She trusted me with her daughter and I let her down. I apologized with the professionalism I was taught but there were no words that could comfort her mother. Then I scrambled from the room into an on-call room and sadness and guilt overwhelmed me. I thought I would never stop crying.”
Silence passed for a few moments before he continued.
“Somehow I learned to deal with it better and you will, too.”
Sarah wiped at her eyes, attempting to clean up whatever mess her makeup was and cleared her raw throat.
“It was my brother,” Sarah said.
“The family member?” Danny asked.
He remembered from their car conversation.
“Yeah. My baby brother died of cancer and this whole thing—it just brought it all up. I don’t feel like a failure. I just feel like… maybe I can’t do this.”
Danny reached over, opened his arms to pull her into his chest and, even though she knew she shouldn’t, she let him. He felt amazing and she needed human connection. His connection.
“I assure you, Sarah: you are cut out for this. I promise. You were fantastic in that room and you did everything you were supposed to. I have no criticism. You did far better than other practicum students I’ve had during a code blue. You remained calm, kept your head and followed directions.”
Her hand splayed around the chiseled muscles of his chest. His white coat hung open, allowing her nose to nuzzle against his sweater and take in his cologne. This close, it felt like she was kissing his chest instead of speaking. She just wanted to melt into him right then and there.
“Well,” she cleared her throat, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure. “Thank you. I. Should. Go.” She stood robotically, trying to get some space and felt even more smothered when he stood as well. His scent covered her and his broad shoulders took up the entire closet.
“I can leave first if you want,” Danny said.
“No. I’ll go. You stay and come out in a few minutes. I don’t want anyone to see us and speculate.”
Danny nodded. “I understand.”
“Thanks for talking to me though,” Sarah said against his chest, having no space to do anything else.
“You’re welcome. See you around, Sarah.”
She nodded quickly and fled the closet without looking back.