25
A different Wren Baker sat across from Dok than the one who had stormed out of this office just yesterday. The rigid tension was gone, replaced by something quieter, almost humble. Dok observed her closely, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and how she seemed smaller, as if the weight of her experience had physically diminished her.
Wren kept her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet Dok’s eyes. “Is Clara going to be all right?”
“In time, I think,” Dok said. “She’s been diagnosed with severe postpartum depression. I knew she was struggling, but I didn’t realize how bad it was. None of us did. She wouldn’t ask for help, wouldn’t accept it. But you saw how unstable she was, how disoriented.”
“Clara came in just two days ago. Annie was out on her lunch break, and I was the only one here. She asked to see you, but she didn’t have an appointment, and the afternoon was fully booked.” Wren’s voice trembled. “And her babies were screaming...” She cupped her hands over her face, her voice breaking. “I sent her away. I meant to tell you, I really did. But the day got so busy ... and I just forgot.”
Dok was hardly one to point a finger of blame. She understood.She’d done it herself. She’d meant to check up on Clara and hadn’t gotten to it. And then she slipped through the cracks. “Wren, this is what acute PPD looks like up close. It’s a very serious condition. Very unstable. Very dangerous. You can understand now why women would seek help.”
Wren nodded slowly. “I never realized ... I mean, I knew my grandmother struggled, but seeing Clara like that...” Her voice trailed off, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “So, I guess you’re trying to tell me that I shouldn’t join the lawsuit?”
Dok leaned forward, her gaze steady as she spoke. “Honestly, I don’t really care. Whether you join the lawsuit or not—that’s entirely up to you. What truly matters to me is that you start seeing your patients as whole people, not just a collection of symptoms. You have all the tools to be a good doctor, but to be a great one, you need to treat the person, not just the illness. Your patients aren’t mere tasks on a to-do list. You need to be attentive to them as human beings.”
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Dok spoke again, her voice filled with quiet hope. “I’d like you to stay. Finish your residency.”
Wren looked up, her eyes filled with surprise. “You want me to stay?”
“Yes. I think you have enormous potential.”
Wren looked down at her hands in her lap. She didn’t answer for a long moment. “I appreciate your confidence in me, especially after ... all that’s happened.” She lifted her head. “But I can’t stay here. I need more than a rural practice. I’m going to do research this year, then apply again for another residency. I’m sorry. I just ... I need more.”
So disappointing.Dok squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. “Wren, what made you decide to become a doctor?”
Wren shifted slightly in her chair. “Doctors get respect. People look at them like they’re ... gods. Especially surgeons—theyliterally hold someone’s life in their hands. I want that kind of respect.”
Oh, how badly Dok wanted to say,That is a terrible reason to be a doctor!Whereis your desire to serve others? To be an extensionof God’s mercy to a broken world? To havethe skills to bring healing to those who are suffering,in pain or great need? Because at its core,beinga doctor—any kind of doctor—is about being acaregiver.
But instead, she tucked her hands under her legs, resisting the urge to lecture. “I have a hunch,” she said calmly, “there’s more to the story.”
Wren took her time answering, as if she wasn’t comfortable delving into personal territory. “One day my mom went on a bender. As she passed out, she hit her head. The neighbor called the police, and they took us both to the ER. I saw how everyone treated the doctors—like they could fix anything. Make anything better. That’s when I knew. That’s what I wanted for myself.”
“How old were you?”
“I guess ... the first time, I was five years old.”
Oh, ouch. So young. “That must’ve been a frightening situation for you.”
Wren shrugged, almost dismissive. “Actually, it happened a lot with my mom.”
“Well, maybe you can use that experience to guide you.”
Wren squinted. “How so?”
“Each time you interact with a patient, remember how it felt to be that five-year-old girl.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To deepen your compassion for others.” Dok let that settle in.
Wren stood up, hesitating for a moment before extending her hand. “Thank you, for everything.”
Dok reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Wren.”
With a final nod, Wren turned and walked out of the office. Dok jumped up and ran to meet her before she reached the front door.
“Wren! One more thing.”
