A White Coat Is My Closet (52 page)

I loved hearing someone—who not more than six hours ago was a perfect stranger—refer to Sergio as my partner. What a difference a day made. I had spent most of our relationship fearing people would suspect we were together as more than just friends. Now, all I felt was pride. “I promise. I’ll put my head back down right here.” I patted the edge of the mattress. “I just want to be next to him when he wakes up again.”

She smiled again. “Okay by me. Seems like you two are good together.”

I smiled too, but rather than looking at her, I stared at Sergio’s sleeping face. “You have no idea. We really are.”

The next thing I knew I was again being awakened by someone gently tapping my shoulder. When I lifted my head, Dr. Mueller, the director of the residency program, was standing over me. “Sorry to wake you, Zack, but may I have a word with you in private? Perhaps we could step out into the corridor?”

A surge of anxiety made me catch my breath. I was sure he’d come down to fire me. Dr. Klein’s grievance must have already reached the administrative heads. I had been hoping to try to institute a little damage control, but there simply hadn’t been time. Besides, the die had probably already been cast—Dr. Klein was too heavy a hitter to go up against.

I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, but ironically, was also surprised by the absence of regret. I certainly didn’t want to lose my position in the residency program, but at the same time, having endured Dr. Klein’s bigotry and hatefulness for the previous three years, part of me was proud of finally saying no more. Looking at Sergio asleep in the bed strengthened my resolve. He had survived and I loved him. I would never deny him again or try to disguise the significance he had in my life. Even if that meant losing my job.

As we walked toward the door, Diane’s words rang in my mind: her promise that my colleagues would stand behind me. While I appreciated the sentiment, I knew the gesture would be useless. I was tremendously relieved both she and Victor liked and respected me, but I knew this situation was my own doing, and I didn’t want any of them to suffer any consequence as the result of my choices.

When we got out into the corridor, Dr. Mueller checked to ensure we had plenty of privacy, then leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Sounds like you had quite a night, Zack.”

I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes, so I stared down at the carpet in front of his feet. “Yeah, I’ve had my share of rough ones, but last night was definitely the worst.” The silence then stretched on for several seconds, and I assumed that, like a child being reprimanded for a serious prank, he was waiting for an explanation.

I focused my thoughts on the memory of Sergio holding my hand and forced myself to continue. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed either you or the program, Dr. Mueller, and I understand why you have no recourse but to terminate me. Though I’m prepared to accept my dismissal as a necessary disciplinary action, I also need to make a statement in my defense.” My voice strengthened with determination. “Dr. Klein’s treatment of gay men in this hospital is unacceptable. He promotes an environment of intolerance and hate and has an attitude that I think tarnishes the reputation of this hospital as being an institution of caring, acceptance, and inclusion.”

My voice then became more apologetic. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have been more forthcoming about the fact that I myself am gay, but I seriously didn’t believe it had any bearing on my ability to fulfill my obligations to the program.”

Because I was looking at the floor, I was a little startled to feel Dr. Mueller touch my shoulder. When I brought my head up, I saw he was blushing, as if he was slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Zack. You misunderstood the intent of my coming down here. There isn’t going to be any disciplinary action brought against you. In fact, I’ve been in meetings all morning to try to determine what action is going to be taken against Dr. Klein. While the administration appreciates that he is a talented surgeon with an impressive history of service to this hospital, they too find his behavior objectionable. It was decided earlier today that if he chooses to maintain staff privileges here, he will have to take mandated classes in cultural diversity awareness. In addition, he will have to attend a requisite number of individual sessions with one of our staff psychologists with the express purpose of improving his social sensitivity. This is not the first time Dr. Klein’s behavior has been brought to the attention of medical staff, but his recent antics have certainly been the most noteworthy. The phones of both the chief of staff and the hospital CEO were flooded with calls this morning from people who wanted to support you. You’ve earned yourself quite a following here, Zack.”

I was speechless. In fact, I was having difficulty processing the entirety of what Dr. Mueller had said. I was so certain he had intended to reprimand me that most of the words he said after his initial apology sounded like they were being spoken in a foreign language.

For a few seconds I just stared blankly at him, and when I finally spoke, I asked what must have sounded like an idiotic question. “So I’m not being fired?”

He again patted my shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “No, Zack. You’re not being fired. We have been and continue to be extremely proud to have you a part of this program. Collectively, we regret if you were ever made to feel uncomfortable, and we want to assure you that your experiences have made the entire staff even more determined to promote an environment of acceptance within the walls of this hospital. From this day forth, our ‘zero tolerance for discrimination and slander’ policy will be even more vigilantly enforced. We not only want you to stay here, Zack, we want you to be happy.”

I felt the lump creeping back into my throat but felt confident I could answer without becoming emotional. “Thank you, Dr. Mueller.” I smiled and shook his hand. “I look forward to being able to complete my training. I appreciate your understanding.”

“No, Zack, I appreciate yours. We’re a health-care facility. Our mission is to tend to the needs of the people within this community—to their emotional needs as well as to their physical needs. If that’s our responsibility to our community, it applies doubly to our own staff. This is the last place someone should be forced to hide who they are.”

Rather than releasing my hand, he covered it with his other and gave it a tighter squeeze. “On a personal note, I want to tell you how sorry I am that your partner was hurt. I’ve known you since you were a medical student, Zack, and have the utmost regard for you not only as a young doctor but as a friend. If there’s anything I can do to make this situation easier for you, please do not hesitate to ask.”

He released my hand but continued speaking. “I’d offer to give you this week off to be with your partner through the early stage of his recovery, but your fellow residents have already taken care of that. They insisted on working extra shifts to cover you. That’s exceptional, Zack. I hope you recognize that. It’s an accomplishment when doctors succeed in winning the admiration of their patients, but it’s spectacular when they succeed in winning the admiration of their colleagues. You’ve earned it, Zack. More importantly, you’ve kept it. They were even more insistent on helping you after they learned you were gay.”

Keeping the emotion out of my voice was becoming an almost impossible challenge. “I’ve heard every cloud has a silver lining. This one is just bigger than I ever thought possible.”

Three Years Later

L
EO
came racing across the yard, tail up, ears back, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a big wet sponge. He was only one year old and wasn’t even close to growing into his feet. Even by Alaskan malamute standards, he was going to be big. The vet suggested he’d probably tip the scale at around a hundred and fifty pounds when he reached his full adult size. As it was, he was an exuberant tornado of unbridled love. As he came to within a couple yards of me, I instinctively covered my crotch and bent my knees. I knew his intention was to change direction at the last second, but he frequently miscalculated his momentum and smashed directly into me. On more than one occasion he either had me singing soprano or had knocked me over and sent me sprawling on my ass. Of course, nothing made him happier than to succeed in getting me on the ground. Then it became his mission to cover every inch of my face with wet, sloppy kisses.

The name Leo was a compromise. My preference would have been to have given him more of a Nordic name. He was, after all, an Alaskan malamute. But Sergio wanted something that sounded more Italian. Leo satisfied both of us. It had an Italian flair, and he looked like a lion. Sergio and I had been together three and a half years and had lived together for almost three. I’d learned compromise was an imperative component of a relationship, but I was so happy it never felt like too great a sacrifice.

As I stood and watched Leo race around the yard, I found myself reflecting on the weeks surrounding Sergio’s attack….

S
ERGIO
ended up remaining in the hospital for four days after his surgery. Dr. Wilber had been amazed at how quickly he recovered, and though he’d been a little apprehensive about letting Sergio go home after such a close brush with death, he couldn’t figure out any reason to keep him longer. Sergio was discharged with strict instructions to take it easy and to return immediately if he had any worrisome symptoms as all.

All my friends rallied to cover my shifts for the days Sergio was hospitalized, and by taking my final weeks of vacation early, I was able to be off a full ten days to assist Sergio during his convalescence. Though “convalescence” was an exaggeration by any definition. By his second day at home, Sergio was going stir-crazy. With the exception of having to keep his left arm immobile, he said he felt pretty good and refused to be kept down. He pulled his art supplies out and began painting, he invited Diane and Declan over and cooked dinner, and we went to the theater and saw no fewer than five movies.

By the sixth day he had taken his sling off, and by the tenth day he insisted on going back to work to resume at least some of his managerial duties. He wasn’t ready to lift any heavy trays, but he told me he felt staying away from the restaurant any longer would put an unnecessary burden on his boss and coworkers. Without even fully discussing his intentions with me, he got up one morning, took two Advil, and said that he’d see me after his shift. I couldn’t very well justify taking any more days off from the hospital to take care of Sergio if he had already returned to work, so I called Dr. Mueller and told him to expect me back in the trenches the following day.

He encouraged me to take all the time I needed, but I assured him the patient’s energy level had already exceeded that of his caretaker, so I had no alternative. It would be patently embarrassing for the shooting victim to be back at work and for me to require additional days off.

My alarm went off at five thirty the next morning, but the butterflies in my stomach had prevented me from sleeping well. This would be my first day back at work with business as usual… except nothing was usual. The entire hospital now knew I was gay.

While Sergio had been hospitalized, my friends in the residency program had been incredibly supportive. They came to visit, they brought me food, and some of the braver ones even acknowledged the elephant in the room by teasing me a little. A bunch of us had been crowded around Sergio’s bed when Corey, one of the other residents in my year, offered, “I pretty much had my suspicions a year ago when I accidently left my
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit edition in the call room. Zack followed me in the rotation, and when I went in the next morning to retrieve it, I noticed it hadn’t been touched. No straight man with a pulse could resist at least flipping through the pages.” Everyone laughed, partially at the joke, but mostly in relief that the topic was finally put out there. Ironically, I laughed the hardest.

“So, Corey, are you saying you figured out I was gay? Or that you were worried I was pulseless? Rumor has it that zombies can be excellent professional colleagues. The undead have been proven to be very reliable.” The group offered a few more good-natured chuckles, so I continued. “Actually, I remember seeing your magazine there. I thought about looking at it, but I figured the pages would be so sticky I’d risk catching something by even touching it.” That comment brought a more enthusiastic response, and any residual discomfort in the room dissipated completely.

On that first day back, I remembered feeling my breath quicken as I passed through the glass bridge connecting the two towers of the hospital. Again, I appreciated how the light reflected through the glass. So much had happened since I first considered how, with his artistic eye, Sergio would have enjoyed the colorful display the light projected across the carpet at that time of morning. I made my way up to the neonatal intensive care unit because Dr. Mueller had suggested I would be best utilized there. As I slapped the keypad to open the automatic door, I decided the best approach would be to begin the day like any other and to try to forego calling any attention to the event that had led up to my emergency absence.