the saline.
“This test does not take long,” she said, cradling his hand in both of hers. “Dr. Soysal is very good. I’ll stay with you while the test is being completed. Dr. Soysal has done many, many of these. He uses a local anesthetic which will take most of the pain away. You’ll still feel a poke but I’ll be here to help you with it.”
Dr. Soysal had returned with the saline and was watching her. She flushed when she realized he had been listening. He smiled his approval.
He explained to the patient, “I will not be doing the procedure. Dr. Ryan will be here in just a few minutes.”
“Then, why are you here?” she asked quietly over the patient’s head.
“This is a difficult test. It’s not hard but it’s frightening for the patient. I’m here to hold his hand.”
Their eyes met for just a moment. She was sure she had blushed but busied herself with the tray repositioning it for the tenth time as Dr. Ryan blustered into the room.
He was a large presence and very much in charge. His demeanor cast a huge net of confidence about the room and as the patient became more calm, Sister Catherine left to complete her charting.
The Charge Nurse gave her another patient who was also very sick and also very frightened. The doctors seemed to think that her habit calmed the patients so Sister Catherine kept finding herself in difficult situations. She knew it was unfair but she held her peace.
They did not know for sure what was wrong with this patient. The tests were all inconclusive but they suspected a large mass in the stomach and they needed one more test to justify surgery. The patient, Dan Walden, was refusing. The doctors were insisting. By the end of the shift it was still a stalemate. In the last few minutes of her shift, Sister Catherine finally talked Mr. Walden into taking the medicine and complying with the doctor’s treatment plan. He took it from her hands and she left to chart that it was done. She was emotionally drained and hoped she would not cross paths with Soysal. She didn’t feel like it. She told the other Sisters that she had a headache and would have soup and toast back at the residence.
It seemed to her that sometimes the doctors used the patient’s religious faith to manipulate them into accepting treatments that they might not be so apt to agree to. This worried her especially when they involved her in the process.
“Maybe, I should have been a cab driver,” she thought as she trudged down the snowy street.
When she got to the residence Mrs. Porter handed her a folded note.
“Message,” she said without expression.
“Are you sure? For me?”
“Sure thing honey,” said Mrs. Porter as though hiding a smile.
The message was from Edward. Sister Catherine breathed hard and rushed to her room. It was abrupt. “Please call Edward at 435-9998. It’s important.”
As she dialed from the phone booth on the first floor, the memories flew back to engulf her. The magic of prom night, the rose corsage, his white tuxedo jacket, the sweet music. All of sudden it was like yesterday. Her breath came hard and she hoped that neither of Edward’s parents would answer. She knew that he had finished college and was working in Manhattan. They had not seen each other since that summer but she knew where he was and she was amazed that he would call her.
He answered. Her voice sounded false. Too casual. They exchanged pleasantries.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked.
“You must be kidding. You know that I watch over you.”
There was a long silence.
“I have a favor,” he asked finally. “My friend’s father is a patient at your hospital. It would mean a lot if you’d check in on him. His name is Dan Walden.”
“He’s my patient,” she said, her voice quavering a bit. ”I’ve already seen him. But I can go over tonight and visit him again if you think it would help.”
“It would mean a lot. Thanks. I really mean it. Thanks. I’m going up there in an hour or so. We’re not sure he’s going to make it.”
She found a small can of soup in the student’s kitchen and heated it on the hot plate. She made some toast and buttered it. She hadn’t thought about Edward for several months and she had wondered if she was finally becoming free of the flow of memories and emotions. It did not please her that their paths would cross again.
“I watch over you,” she said aloud. “Great.”
After her soup, she trudged back up the street. The night traffic sounds were muffled by the soft snow that floated along, creating a magic crystal effect under the street lights. She stood for awhile, transfixed, then went in the side door of the hospital. Most of the day staff had gone. The night had taken over the huge building encasing it in a calm, quiet envelope. The elevator was open, manned by an elderly hospital employee, and she decided to ride.
“Where to?”
“Hi Jimmy. I’d love to go to Paris but the fourth floor will do for now.”
“Somebody sick up there?”
“Not for long, Jimmy. I’m gonna make them all better.”
“You do that honey. Then I can go home and rest.”
He clanked the metal gate open and she walked out onto the Unit. She was hoping not to be seen. Ordinarily the off duty students were barred from the units. She felt that she had a pass because of the situation. Under that excuse, she didn’t care about the rule but she certainly didn’t want to get caught.
There was only a small staff on the eveing shift so no one saw her. She went into Mr. Walden’s room. He was breathing heavily. Within a few minutes he was gasping for breath. His eyes were panicked. She bent over him. He recognized her and said, “Sister, I told you not to give me that medicine.”
His gasping became worse and she rang for the nurse on duty. She lowered the head of the bed and elevated the foot. By the time the nurse arrived he was barely breathing.
The nurse said, “Call Dr. Soysal. Now! Get him here! Now!”
Sister Catherine ran to the desk and dialed. Dr. Soysal answered immediately. “Is it Mr. Walden?” he asked. “I’ll be right there.”
She ran back to the room but Mr. Walden was already dead.
By the time Dr. Soysal arrived she was sobbing. He told her to wait in the conference room while he attended to the patient. He told another nurse to get her something to drink, to calm her.
When Dr. Soysal finally came into the conference room he was quiet, somber. He sat across from her.
“This kind of tragedy can happen,” he said. “Mr. Walden had an aneurysm that could have burst
