Maybe he couldn’t even return to his practice. She could see he and his wife were devoted to each other. What would happen if he got really sick, which was a possibility? Why should they talk about her?
They treated Leslie like an old friend. Not like a guest. There were no moments of uncomfortable silence. They reached across her to get the salt or pepper. Doc didn’t hold back on being politically incorrect if he wanted and Brenda didn’t scold him if he did. They questioned her openly about being a female orthopedic surgeon and how they hadn’t ever known one personally, even though they had heard of them. By the time she got into her car to drive home, she was happy she had not begged out on the evening.
“Welcome home, doctor. Will you be needing a call to wake up in the morning?”
She thought about it for a second. Her internal clock was off this morning, and she had eaten a large meal, late. Better not take a chance.
“Yes, please. How about six.”
“Six o’clock, it is. Goodnight.”
6
The evening had been strange for Leslie and she felt guilty. She had actually enjoyed herself, enjoyed the company, even the food. This was the problem with commitments, long term work, as opposed to the usual short term obligation. Doc and Brenda cared about her relationship with their patients. On shorter term jobs, it wasn’t so important. She could do very little harm in a short period of time in terms of getting along with patients. If she just did her job medically, everyone was happy. This was going to be a longer commitment and her temporary employers wanted to make sure she could take care of things on a larger scale. They wanted to get to know her. Chalk that one down to experience. No more jobs longer than a week.
Leslie made sure she carried the torch. It was necessary. She felt it deep inside. It wasn’t work for her to do it. It just happened. Three years had passed and she wasn’t ready to let go. Rather than try to sleep tonight, she tried to remember. She tried to remember their faces. Chris, tall, thin, marathon runner. That part was easy. His face was almost a blank now. She couldn’t remember the shape of the scar on his chin that he got from a bicycle accident when he was six. She memorized the verbal description of his features but couldn’t see them anymore. When had that happened? The same with the twins. Both fair. Blonde, curly hair. Couldn’t appreciate the curls on Vic because they kept his hair short. In a few years he would probably have started letting it grow because that was the style for teenage boys. Vivian had curls and she had started to hate them, just like her mom did. They had lazy soft eyes, like Chris. Full lips like hers. But she couldn’t picture their eyes or their lips anymore. They were obviously brother and sister. The same age. Totally different personalities. Leslie smiled, thinking about them. It was so hard to imagine that she would never ever see them again, except in her mind’s eye, and that was slowly fading. She thought about the photos in the storage room back home. Why had she kept them if it wasn’t to look at them again someday? She got undressed and went to bed.
The six o’clock wake up call was unnecessary. Leslie was already up. She lifted the receiver and hung it up. She showered, got dressed and drove to the hospital. She ran into Doc in the hall on the way to the cafeteria, where they had agreed to meet.
“Morning Doc,” he said to her. Was this to be her title as well?
“Morning. Hey, thanks again for dinner last night. Really enjoyed it.”
“Well good. Same here. I think we’re all going to get along just fine. You ready for some coffee?”
“You bet. Can’t get started without it.” They got in line and Doc put his hand out for her to go first.
She got coffee and some bacon and eggs. Doc got a couple of breakfast tacos. “Best tacos in town and at a hospital cafeteria no less.”
“I know…make a bull dog hug a hound.”
“Doc, you’re all right.”
They sat down at a table away from everyone else. They talked about the practice, the hours, how he liked to do things. He gave her the lowdown on personalities in the operating room and his office. He poured salsa on his tacos and talked in between bites, leaning over his tray as if the taco might try to escape. He licked his fingers when he was done, then got up to go get a refill on the coffee.
“Can I get you some more coffee?”
“Sure.” She handed him her cup. Doc returned carrying a fistful of creamers in addition to her coffee.
“So, what d’ya think? Can you handle it?”
“I think so. It’s been a while since I did the whole practice deal, but it sounds like I’m going to have a lot of help.”
“You’ll do great.” Doc wiped his mouth with a paper napkin while pushing his chair back from the table. “What do you say we go and round? I’ve got about nine or ten folks in the house. Shouldn’t take too long.” They got up and set their dishes on the kitchen conveyor belt, then walked down the hall to the elevators. Doc pushed the fourth floor button.
“Most ortho patients are on four. Occasionally they go to the fifth floor when they have medical problems or need telemetry.”
On the fourth floor, they stepped out, discarded their coffee cups and went to the nurses’ station. “These gals can make or break you. They really know their stuff when it comes to orthopedic problem solving. None of that calling you at three in the morning, asking for a sleeping pill for a patient who can’t sleep. It’s a general hospital, but this floor is run like it’s a specialty hospital. Everyone’s happy, knows their job.”
“Sounds too good to be true, Doc.”
“Here we go.” As he walked into the station, several nurses greeted him. “Morning, Doc.” “Good morning Doc Hawley.” Smiles and greetings all the way around. From both sides. Doc happy to see everyone. They were happy to see him.
Doc asked, “Mary Ellen around?”
Then from the room in back of the station, “I’m here, just hold your horses. You’d think I had nothing better to do than…” and it trailed off when she saw Leslie in her starched white jacket. “Ooo, sorry, didn’t know we had company!” Then she handed Doc Hawley the cup of coffee she had in her hand. “Black with a skosh of honey.”
“Mary Ellen, Doc Cohen. Mary Ellen is the head nurse up here on the fourth floor. And the best there is. Runs a tight ship and knows everything there is to know about your patients, the OR, ER, whatever. You need anything, and I mean anything, you can ask her.”
“Doc’s just blowin’ up my skirts to impress you, Doctor Cohen. We’re sure glad to have you here to help Doc out. Come on. Let me introduce you to the staff.” She took Leslie around the station introducing her to all the nurses, assistants and the ward secretary. Each stood and shook her hand as if she were a visiting dignitary.
“Y’all want to go round now? Doctor Cohen, how about a cup of coffee? It’s fresh.”
Even after the two earlier cups, Leslie accepted the offer. Mary Ellen turned around and went to the break room for the coffee. “What do you take in your coffee, Doctor Cohen?”
Leslie volunteered to fix her own because it was always impossible to specifically define a ton of creamer, and then
