Could I Have This Dance? (8 page)

“I was hoping you’d still be up.” The voice was John Cerelli’s, deep, calm, and confident. As usual, Claire smiled.

“I’m up. Doubt I’ll get to sleep very early. I’m too keyed up.”

“I wish I was there.” He paused. “As long as you’re not sleeping.”

“John.” Instinctively, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror next to her bed. She pressed her hand against the front of the jersey, bringing it against her stomach. She was pleased with what she saw. She hoped her long hours as a surgical intern wouldn’t be too detrimental to her figure.

“What are you wearing?”

“John! Why do you want to know?” She giggled.

“I’m just trying to imagine … the football jersey, right?”

“Let’s talk about something else. How’d your sales presentation go?”

“You’re wearing my jersey again. Admit it.”

“So what?”

“I knew it.”

“It’s comfortable. That’s all.”

“Right.” His voice was laced with playful sarcasm.

After a moment’s silence, Claire’s voice thickened. “There was a reception tonight for all the new interns.”

“Great. Was it fun?”

“Not exactly fun. It was typical superficial cocktail communication. I just went to scope out the attendings.” She cleared her throat. “I, uh, didn’t wear the wedding band …”

“Claire, I thought we’d agreed.”

“It—it just didn’t seem right. I know what we—”

“Claire, do what you want,” he interrupted. “I just thought it would make your life easier if you didn’t have to fend off hordes of men. We’re almost married anyway. A ring, or a piece of paper, won’t make us any more married, you know.” She had heard this tone of voice from John before. The hurt, the sarcasm, rolled too easily off his tongue.

“I know, John. And I am committed, you know that. And I’m not fending off hordes of men.”

“You should be,” he sulked. “Fending them off, I mean.”

“I don’t know anyone up here to fend off. Even if I did, I’d be too busy. Why don’t you just move up here now? Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re asking me to move up? Now?” He paused. “I seem to remember that you’re the one who insisted on this separation, time for you to get your head together after graduation.”

“The separation
was
my idea. But it was a head decision, not a heart one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think we need to be apart, at least for a while. But it doesn’t mean that I thought I’d enjoy it. With my head, I think it’s right. With my heart, well, I get mixed up.”

She heard him sigh into the phone. “I wish you’d get your organs together up there. Your heart and your head, I mean.”

She looked in the mirror again and edged the hem of John’s jersey higher on her thigh. “I just need to know that you’re as interested in our relationship as you are in how I look in this jersey.”

“And how can I prove that if you won’t let me visit?”

I shouldn’t have to spell it out.
“Call me. Write to me. Pray for me. Be there when I cry. This is going to be the toughest year of my life, John. I need to know you’re supporting me.”

He sighed again. “Okay, baby. I’m going to try.”

“I know.” She softened and changed the subject. “Everyone keeps asking about my father. It’s like the second or third question in every conversation. ‘So, what does your father do?’ It’s like they think a woman couldn’t make it in surgery without her father’s coattails.”

“They’re just making conversation. Probably don’t know what else to ask. What do you tell them?”

“Uh. Well. I ignore the question half the time. Sometimes I make a joke about him being the dean of some medical school.” She yawned. “I told a few that he’s retired military.”

John laughed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“It’s not exactly lying. He was in the military once.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s really none of their business,” she huffed. “And it certainly wouldn’t help me through this pyramid if they knew the truth.”

Ugh. The pyramid again. She didn’t know why she’d brought it up. She didn’t want to think about it.

“I miss you.”

“Ditto, girl. I’m going nuts here alone.”

“John, I’m scared. You should see the rest of the new interns. They act like walking textbooks.”

“You’re not intimidated by that stuff. You’re better than most of them. I can tell you that without even meeting ‘em. You know why you’re there. And you wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t right.” He paused. “This is your calling, remember?”

“I don’t know. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’m not sure I can do this. I could come back to Virginia … take that family medicine spot they offered….”

“You wouldn’t be happy. You were born to do this. You can’t tell me you don’t believe that. I must have heard you say it a thousand times.”

Claire sighed. She knew it was true. But hearing him repeat it back sure sounded nice. “You really believe it?”

“Every word.”

“I love you, John.”

“You too,” he said. “Tomorrow’s your big day. Get some sleep.”

“I’ll try.” “Night.”

“Good night.”

Click.

Claire ran her finger over the small picture frame on the desk, staring for a moment at the image. She dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of the jersey and plodded to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She set the alarm for five and collapsed into the comfort of her double bed. She lay still for a moment, thinking of John, lonely for his touch.
I shouldn’t be missing him this much. Not yet. It’s gonna be a long internship without him.

She closed her eyes in a forced attempt to silence her longing and to quiet her anxieties about the start of her surgical training. Tomorrow would come too soon.

Tomorrow, for the first time, she would put her medical degree to the test.

Chapter Four

July 1, 2000

T
he next morning, Claire’s eyes were open at four-thirty. So much for needing her alarm. She showered, applied her makeup, and put on a pair of scrubs she’d obtained during her orientation. As she passed the mirror, she smiled.
I’ll probably not have this much time to get ready in the future. The boys on the trauma service better not expect me to look this good every day.

After a breakfast of generic bran flakes, she readied her on-call supplies and began a systematic nurturing of her houseplants, all twenty-three of them. She had scaled back her obsession with plants since her college days, having given most of them away before she moved. But in the last two months, she’d started over a dozen African violets, most of which she kept under a special UV light in her small apartment kitchen. She meticulously watered each one, proud of the care she’d been able to provide. The last one, a thirty-inch-high jade plant, was her favorite, the only one she’d kept since high school.

She made it to the university hospital before dawn but still arrived after Beatrice Hayes and Howard Button, who were chatting nervously outside the double automatic doors to the SICU. A few minutes later, they were joined by Wayne Neal. It was obvious to Claire that Wayne and Howard were as nervous as she felt. Beatrice, however, was the picture of calm. Her hair and makeup were perfect. With an air of confidence, she displayed her patient data cards.

“I have a card for every patient on the service.” She held up the three-by-five cards for everyone to see. “I have a problem list, the record numbers, and their current meds.”

Claire looked at the small, immaculate printing on the cards and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Wayne feigned disinterest, but Howard stumbled forward for a closer look. “Wow.” He patted his empty lab coat pocket. “Do you have any extra cards?”

Beatrice apparently didn’t feel his question worthy of a response, and quickly turned her attention to another group of four who had gathered a few feet away in the hall: medical students. In contrast to the new interns, the students appeared battle-weary, with stained scrubs, wrinkled lab coats, and unwashed hair. There were three males and one female, and all were holding steaming cups of coffee. The tallest of the four held two cups. In a moment, Claire understood why.

Silence fell over the group when they saw Dr. Dan and his entourage approach. He seemed like a proud mother mallard, with his ducklings following obediently behind. In order, Claire recognized the house staff from her orientation: Jeff Parrish, fourth-year resident, Elaine Kirklin, third-year resident, and Basil Roberts, second-year resident.

The tall medical student held up the coffee to Dr. Overby. “Dan-the-man! I survived the night.”

The chief resident beamed. “I knew you would, Rick. Did you remember to eat?”

“Eat when you can,” the student responded, quoting Dan’s first rule of survival.

The female medical student coughed. “If you consider crackers and coffee in the CT scanner a meal, we ate.”

“Crackers are good,” Basil responded. “But”—he raised his index finger as if making a serious point—“never use the vending machine in the basement of the nursing dorm.” He shook his head in apparent disgust. “I lost seventy-five cents there last week.”

Elaine scoffed. “In your dreams, pal. You’ve never been to the nursing dorm.”

Dan held up his hand. “Enough. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover this morning. It’s July first, which means new terns.”

The other surgical residents made groaning noises until Dan silenced them with a single glance. He paused for a moment and looked at the interns who remained in a clump near the SICU doors. “And none of them went to school here, so you guys need to show ‘em the ropes,” he said, addressing the medical students. “Rick, Sally, Josef, and Glen, meet Howard, Wayne, Beatrice, and Claire.”

The two groups eyed each other pensively.

“Terns, these are the best medical students you’ll see for a while. They are at the end of their third year, and they know the ropes. Don’t underestimate the value of an initiated student. They know where everything is, and they know how to get things done.” He nodded with appreciation at
the ragged group who threw their shoulders back in mock appreciation to their chief. “It won’t be like this next month, when we get a green group of third-year students without an ounce of practical experience.

“The team is divided into two halves, covering every other night in house.” He smiled at the terns. “That means you don’t leave the hospital when you’re on. The first half is led by me, and consists of myself, Basil, Beatrice, and Claire, as well as two students, Josef and Glen. The second half is led by Jeff, and consists of him, Elaine, Howard, Wayne, and the two students, Rick and Sally. Since Jeff’s team was on last night, he will lead rounds this morning. Every service works a little different, depending on what chief resident is running the show. I like to make discovery rounds in the morning, which means the terns don’t have to pre-round to find out how the patients are doing. We’ll discover that as a group when we go around. As much as we can, we’ll let the interns write their daily notes while on rounds, because, as soon as the ER starts paging, we’ll have limited time to get the daily grunt work done.” He looked at Bea and Claire. “As for you two, I’d suggest splitting the daily scut list until we get the first hit in the ER. Then one of you will be responsible for writing up the new admissions, and one of you should man the floor work until it’s all done.”

Jeff Parrish tapped his shoe impatiently. “In the morning, we have resident rounds. In the evening, usually right before supper, we have attending rounds. During attending rounds, the interns will present the new patients, and the students will give the daily progress reports on the patients already on the service. Any questions?”

The interns responded with blank stares.

Dan shrugged his massive round shoulders. “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Claire forced herself to nod.
Now there’s a novel idea: don’t worry. I wish I had some Pepcid AC.

“We’ve got to get moving,” Jeff prodded. “We got five new players last night to tell you about.”

With that, the team moved en masse through the automatic double doors into the ordered world of the Surgical Intensive Care Unit.

Four hours later, Claire smoothed the lapels of her white lab coat and looked down at her picture ID pinned to the jacket pocket. “E. Claire McCall, MD,” she whispered, reading the name tag.
This is what I’ve been waiting for, training for, all these years.
She touched the pager clipped to the waistband of her scrubs and walked forward down the broad hallway leading to
the med-surg nursing station, conscious that she was pulling her shoulders back in a confident pose. She slipped behind the counter and gathered the patients’ charts to review. To her right, her assigned medical student, Josef Cohen, diligently transferred the morning lab values onto a clipboard so he could memorize them before attending rounds. He was compulsive to a fault and seemed knowledgeable, but appeared quiet on rounds, only speaking when asked a question and then only quietly. Perhaps he was only shy, but his inability to speak up would certainly bias his attendings against giving him an excellent evaluation.

“Josef, what field do you want to go into?”

He looked up and responded with the first hint of excitement Claire had seen in him. “Surgery.”

She smiled, wanting to give him some pointers on his form, but quelled the urge. Maybe he was only having an off day.

Just then, a nurse appeared at Claire’s elbow. “Dr. McCall?” The nurse, many years senior to Claire, held up a patient chart and opened it to the physician’s order page. “Mr. Jones in 518 is complaining of a headache. Can I give him some Tylenol?”

Claire took the chart from the nurse, refreshing her memory of just who Mr. Jones was.
Hmmm. Fifty-eight-year-old male with a right chest tube to treat a punctured lung sustained in a fall from a ladder two days ago. His only other medical history is significant for hypertension. Interestingly, he was on treatment for pneumonia at the time of his injury.