3. Happens Too Much
3
HAPPENS TOO MUCH
“H i, Mom,” Garrett said, answering his phone as he was walking in the door after work.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” his mother asked. “You sound like you’re doing something.”
“Getting home now,” he said, putting his bag down and clipping his badge to the bag so he’d have it when he left tomorrow.
“Sorry,” his mother said. “You’re later than normal. Do you want to call me back?”
“Nope,” he said. “As long as you don’t mind me banging around as I look for food while I talk.”
“Never,” his mother said. “I’m just happy to hear your voice.”
He frowned. He was in contact with his parents all the time.
Maybe he didn’t see them as much because when he’d been working in Boston, he could see his father daily if he just walked to his office, but he had rarely done that. It was more that they passed in the halls like other colleagues.
“What’s going on?” he asked. He opened the fridge and looked at his choices of dinner. Rather than make something new, he pulled out the leftover spaghetti and meatballs from yesterday.
Jarred sauce and frozen meatballs with spaghetti that he made were still better than takeout.
He wouldn’t say he couldn’t cook but tended to take a much easier route if he could.
“Not much,” his mother said. “I haven’t talked to you in a few weeks. You’ve been on the island now for almost two months. How do you like it?”
He laughed. “I’ve been on this island my whole life.”
“We know,” his mother said. “But not like this. Not full time.”
He dumped half of his leftovers in a bowl and then shoved it in the microwave. “The first month kind of felt like an extended vacation that I had to work through.”
“And since you never really get time off even when you’re on vacation, that is about right.”
He snorted. “You’d know that better than anyone else,” he said.
“It’s a life that not everyone can handle,” his mother said. “I understood that and it’s why I had my time to myself too.”
His mother had been a nurse before he was born. Then she’d taken a year off and went back one day a week. Her day to get out of the house even though she didn’t have to work.
When his younger sister, Gabriela, came two years after him, his mother did the same thing. Took a year off and then went back one or two days a week, picking and choosing when she wanted to work, then continued to do that for years until she retired about ten years ago.
Now she spent most of her time volunteering.
“You’ve always balanced it well,” he said. “You and Dad together. Not many can, as you said.”
“Are you relaxing some there with a slower pace?” his mother asked. “You know how worried we’ve been.”
He knew and hated they felt that way, but there wasn’t much he could do about it either.
“Trying to,” he said. “Being the only doctor on for a minimum of three days a week isn’t that relaxing. I’m running everywhere between the chemo patients, regular patients, calls to handle, and emergencies. But it is fewer patients, just more work to do with them.”
Not to mention all the after-hour calls to the specialist or primary oncologist some of the chemo patients had in Boston.
“Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for you to go there,” his mother said. “Your father and I discussed this. I thought the same thing. He insisted it was just a different environment.”
“It definitely is,” he said. “It was the right decision. Don’t think otherwise. The pace is slower in the office, there’s more to do. My staff is great too.”
“That’s good to hear,” his mother said.
“The weather is getting nicer. Waking up to the view is the best part. It’s quiet here too. I’m sleeping great.”
“I always say the same thing to your father when we go to the island.”
“When are you coming again?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” his mother said. “Maybe we’ll come out this weekend if you want. I’ll see if he’s got anything going on. At least I know he’s not on call anymore.”
Since his father was the head of the department, he got one less headache there. But many more because if there were issues on call he’d have to be notified anyway.
“True,” he said. “If you decide to come, let me know. I can come to dinner.”
His mother laughed. “All the more reason for us to do it. Anything exciting going on there?”
He pulled his food out of the microwave and stirred it all around to spread the heat better. “Got a new pharmacist that started. She’s here for six months while they figure out someone to fill it full time,” he said. He put a mouthful of food in and started to chew.
“They have to get creative for those things. I’m sure the person might not be happy if they’ve got a life outside of work. Did you try to bribe them?”
There was that word again causing him to smirk. “No clue about her life,” he said. “She seems young and I hope she likes donuts.”
He wasn’t going to tell his mother that Justine was also attractive.
She looked on the petite side to him. Maybe a foot shorter than him if he was guessing. He was too lost in her looks that were just stunning and stood out so sharply.
He’d always steered clear of any romantic relationship with someone he worked with.
Even though he had a great example of his parents lasting almost four decades, they were the exception to the rule.
Too many crashed and burned and things got messy.
He had enough mess on his plate lately.
“Donuts are always a good thing. Low seniority,” his mother said, laughing. “Which is hard, but your father has been there and you too. It’s all part of working at the hospital.”
“I know it,” he said. “Unless I go to another hospital not affiliated with the island.”
His mother laughed. “You’d never do that.”
“No,” he said. “Not unless I didn’t have a choice. You know, like getting canned.”
“No one is going to fire you,” his mother said sternly.
“One more lawsuit and it might happen,” he said, sighing.
“Garrett, it was dismissed. You did nothing wrong and you know it. They had multiple opinions and all agreed with the treatment plan. People who get cancer die. It happens.”
“Happens too much,” he said around another mouthful. “Or too much for me.”
Last year was the tipping point for him.
The lawsuit only added to his mental fatigue making him doubt his career choice.
“And that is why you’re trying to take life in the slow lane. Your father and I will support any decision you make. You know that.”
“I do,” he said. “I appreciate it. Had an interesting day and have to keep reminding myself what I told my patient.”
“Want to talk about it?” his mother asked.
“Sure,” he said. “I had a first-time chemo patient.”
“Which is hard if they are scared and they always are,” his mother said. “You know I was a chemo nurse and met your father that way.”
When she returned to work after the birth of her kids, she went to the hospital and not a specialty office since she worked the second or third shift or a weekend.
“I know the story,” he said. “I like to think I’ve got some of my compassion from you.”
“You and your sister both,” his mother said.
“I talked with the patient prior. Eased her mind as best as I could and thought we were good to go.”
“But then she got to the room and panicked?” his mother asked.
“Yes. I was more firm this time and gave her a reality check with it. She has a great diagnosis and only needs four rounds of chemo, spaced two weeks apart. She should tolerate it well. We talked about her grandkids.”
“And you mentioned how she would have a better chance watching them grow with the treatment?”
“Of course,” he said. “I laced it with nothing is guaranteed. Again, don’t need another lawsuit.”
“Now you’re being snarky,” his mother said, chuckling.
“I don’t mean to be,” he said. “Just stating the truth.”
He took another bite of his dinner, then broke his meatball up with his fork.
“The truth is hard,” his mother said. “We understand. So you calmed her and all was good?”
“For the most part. I told her she could ask for me and I’d come back to see her.”
“And how often did she ask?” his mother asked.
“Four times,” he said. “It was fine. Twice during the prep drugs when she felt different. We explained it was normal to have hot flashes and then feel tired.”
The nurses needed to know every symptom felt to make sure there was no reaction.
“You went to see her each time and told her she was doing well, right?”
“Yes,” he said. “I promised her I would. The fourth time was when she was done. She wanted to thank me. Her husband had before it started.”
“She’ll be fine next time,” his mother said. “And she’ll remember your patience and kindness.”
“I think so. She hugged me.”
Patients didn’t normally do that, but he didn’t mind. He returned it and felt good about it.
Those rewards he’d said to someone else. They eased the mental load he carried and got him through.
“Good for her,” his mother said. “I think you need some hugs too.”
He laughed. “Not from patients,” he said.
“I don’t want to know,” his mother said. “Or I’m going to lecture you on finding a partner. Someone you can relax with and take your mind off of work.”
“It wasn’t happening in Boston and is going to be even harder here,” he said. “I don’t need that headache. Anyway, I had another patient that I was late to see since I was checking in on my chemo one and when I returned she said she understood. A ten-year survivor and she remembered it like it was yesterday. Said that my job had to be depressing.”
His mother sighed. “What did you say?”
“I wasn’t going to lie. I said it had its moments, but it was also rewarding. When she told me she was loving life and everything was great, I told her that is part of the rewarding side I saw.”
“Good for you,” his mother said. “You’re always honest even when people don’t want to hear it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Lying doesn’t do anyone any good.”
“Now you’re thinking of Taylor. You didn’t lie to her.”
“Mom,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You are going to ruin this good conversation we are having bringing her up.”
“Sorry,” his mother said. “But I thought that is where you were going with the lying comment.”
His ex had accused him of lying about how hard his career was. That she didn’t know going in he’d be gone all the time. Or on call so much.
That he’d be mentally disconnected on really bad days.
He needed someone who understood that and Taylor wasn’t it. She didn’t even try.
It was in his past and he just preferred to keep it that way and move on.
“I wasn’t,” he said. “Anyway, all is good here.”
“And now you want to go,” his mother said. “Hope I didn’t put you in a bad mood.”
“Never,” he said. “I’m almost done with my dinner. I’m surprised you weren’t nauseated by me chewing in your ear.”
“I’ve seen and heard a lot more nauseating things than that.”
“We all have,” he said. “I’m going to finish up, then go for a run and shower and call it a night.”
“You do that,” his mother said. “I’ll talk to you later in the week and let you know if we’ll be on the island.”
Garrett hung up after that, put his dish in the dishwasher, then went to his room to change. Putting on his running sneakers, he grabbed his earbuds and armband to strap his phone to, locked up the house, and took off on a dash hoping to outrace his past.