What’s he going to write? He’s never been able to change it from zero. But then he takes it off the wall and throws it down in a shocking display of emotion. For as long as I’ve known Dr. Srinivasan, he has been a bastion of calm professionalism, if a little snarky at times.
Not now.
His skin heats to a deep crimson as he struggles to form the words. “Julian,” he finally utters, “you’re fired. Get out.”
My eyes bulge as I jump up from the chair. “Dr. Srinivasan, no! Please—I had a bad day, I’m sorry!”
“It’s not working out. You haven’t learned anything I’ve tried to teach you about treating patients with compassion, and after your behavior with Mr. Gutierrez today…” Dr. Srinivasan trails off, shaking his head. “Frankly, Julian, I’m disgusted. Embarrassed. And more than anything, disappointed. You have so much potential—you’re bright and hardworking, with excellent training. But you’re not cut out for this type of care. You’ll have to finish your probation somewhere else.”
Pressure builds up behind my eyes, stinging my sinuses. “Nowhere else will have me!”
“Well, now we know why, don’t we?” Dr. Srinivasan frowns at the sign on the floor and leans over to pick it up. He grabs the cloth and wipes off the marker’ed message. “I’m sorry, Julian. Not to you, but to my patients, whom I’ve allowed you to hurt. I’m sorry to your mother, who is a deeply kind woman, and whom I wished to help with this favor. But I cannot give you access to my patients any longer.”
“I’m a good doctor,” I assert, louder than I mean to. “I save lives!”
“When you have your way, yes,” Dr. Srinivasan agrees. “You thrive in emergencies with a top-down approach. You assess the damage. You make all the decisions. No one’s in any state to argue with your judgment. But that’s not how it works anywhere else, Julian. Here, you have to collaborate with your patients to find the solutions together. You have to put your ego aside and listen to someone else because your voice isn’t the only one that matters. And that, I’m afraid, you’re incapable of doing.”
My stomach bottoms out. “I need this job, Dr. Srinivasan. If you fire me after six weeks, there’s no way Philly Gen will take me back. My entire career’s at stake. What can I do to change your mind?”
Dr. Srinivasan huffs humorlessly. “Become a different person?”
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Julian, be serious. There’s no way to come back from how you acted today. How you’ve been acting this entire time.”
“I’ll apologize to Mr. Gutierrez, to anybody you want. I’ll count to ten before I say anything. I’ll—I’ll go to therapy!”
“Will you study? Will you learn—”
I laugh, a burst of giddy relief at the tiny glimmer of hope. “—yes!I’ll learn anything! I’ll study so hard—”
“About cannabis, Julian? About its medical benefits? How it’s used to treat different conditions, including Parkinson’s?”
The words die on my lips. “I—but sir, it’s—”
“See? You cannot do this job. You refuse to expand your narrow worldview, which is unacceptable.”
I swallow, my heart thudding in my chest as I try, desperately, to sound reasonable. “But I believe cannabis use is unethical, sir.”
“A significant portion of the medical community disagrees with you. Isn’t it worth educating yourself before you take such a harsh, unyielding position on a complex subject?”
“I—I suppose so, but—”
Dr. Srinivasan strides over to the desk and reclaims the chair. “Though I absolutely shouldn’t allow you to stay one more minute under my employ, I’m willing toconsiderit if you honor my conditions. All of them.”
My face goes slack with relief. “I—thank you, sir! Anything!”
“First, you won’t see any patients until you complete my conditions to my satisfaction.”
“Okay.”
“Second, I won’t write you the recommendation letter you need at the end of this probation unless I seereal growthin you as a doctor. I won’t lie to protect your incompetence. Do you understand?”
Everything above my collar flushes with shame. “Of course, sir.”
“Third, you will learneverythingthere is to know about both medicinal and recreational cannabis with an open mind.”
The thought makes my stomach recoil. After watching Dad waste away in our garage, stoned until the very end, I already know what cannabis does to a person. A family. A future. Add that to what I’ve seen in the ER—car accidents from driving under the influence, psychotic episodes from overuse, and yes, lots of foreign objects in butts—and my mind’s made up. But I also know this condition is non-negotiable. Dr. Srinivasan obviously believes in cannabis’s value—he uses it himself. “I will read every medical study there is, sir.”
