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“What do you think he wants?” Jules asked, reading my mind.
“Who knows? I’m pretty sure I’m safe, don’t worry,” I assured her, pulling off my mask.
“Want to meet up with us in an hour?” Jamie said, looking at me, equally concerned.
“Yeah, let’s do lunch inside today. It’s too damned hot.” The two women nodded and went about their jobs as they always did. I was determined to take them with me to the center once I left Memorial. We worked so well together, and though they knew I was opening a center, neither of them let on that they wanted to come with me. I was hoping they were just waiting for an invitation, one that I was most definitely going to give.
“Come in, Dr. Whittaker,” McGuire barked as he threw a newspaper down on his desk. I took a seat opposite of him. I didn’t have to look at the paper to know he’d been reading the article announcing the center’s opening.
“We’ve spent the last few years in surgery together. Should I be offended about this news not coming from the source?”
“No, sir, not at all. I just didn’t feel it was appropriate.”
“How would it be inappropriate? It’s medical related, and it’s actually quite impressive. You’re months away from being a senior resident, and I have no doubt you’ll be named chief. I had plans for you.” He sat back in his chair, his hands on the armrests as he scrutinized me. “You were a shoe-in for my fellowship.”
I couldn’t help my slight eye bulge and broad smile.
“That can’t happen now, Dr. Whittaker.”
“No, sir, I’m aware,” I said, slightly disheartened yet elated at the same time. I sat quietly as he studied me.
“You are wasting your time here, you know the ins and outs of the basics, and right now it’s like a jail sentence to you. There is nothing I can teach you that you haven’t already learned, aside from the limited rare case that everyone fights for.
“Sir, we’ve done nothing but open technique. If I can just try my hands at laparo—”
“I’m aware that we haven’t operated laparoscopic. I’m not some dinosaur who believes that I’ll be replaced by machines and afraid to adapt to newer, better, and less evasive procedures. I was the first to use that technique in this hospital. It’s important to learn both. I didn’t feel I needed to explain myself to you.”
“No, sir,” I said as I sank a little into my seat.
Teacher, student, McGuire, got it.
“While I commend you on your future plans, I must say I’m a little disappointed that I have no other candidate for my fellowship as of now. I’m sure someone will come along, more in tune, more attentive, and more talented than you, but until that day comes, I’m going to govern over your surgical education with good care. You and your sister have taken on one hell of a feat, and you need to be prepared. You being my priority, until I find someone else to mentor, I will have to insist you start standing in on some surgeries
more involved in your new specialty.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, having a ridiculously hard time hiding my excitement.
“Good,” he said, standing and taking off his lab coat before replacing it with a pea coat. “You’re on call for the next three days. Get some R & R. Actually, my advice to you is to live a little, Dr. Whittaker. And when you return, get ready to get uncomfortable again.”
I knew what that meant. I would be a bit clueless in the operating room like I was the first day of surgery, and the day after that, and the weeks and months that followed. No matter how prepared I thought I was or how confident, the skilled surgeons had made it their mission to rattle me to the core.
As I exited Dr. McGuire’s office, I was thankful for that damned article. In its own way, it was just the pat on the shoulder I needed to keep going.
“You know, Rose, I know you feel it, too. It’s okay to be a little afraid. But this is how the good ones start.”
“The good ones?”
“The great ones. This will be a great one.” –Grant
“If a pilot can land a plane safely on the Hudson and save one hundred and fifty-five people, you can get out of bed, Rose.”
“Aunt Wose,” Grant said, tugging at my scrubs. “Aunt Wose!” He had been chasing the ducks for the better part of twenty minutes while I remained lost in thought. “Come on, Aunt Wose!” I watched Grant as he wiggled his little body onto the passenger seat of the golf cart, waving his arms. “Wet’s go, wets go!”
I grinned at him. “Okay, buddy.” This would be our fourth trip within the hour. I took one last look at the pond and jumped in the seat next to Grant as he clapped with excitement. “Okay, baby blue, let’s go,” I said, putting the golf cart into gear and making our way down the paved sidewalk and through the grounds. It was a hot August day, and I was thankful for the light breeze as we made our way from the pond back to the center. We were building one of the largest cancer treatment centers in Texas and had expanded it to the point of needing transportation from one building to the next, not to mention the one-and-a-half-mile trek back to my house, which sat at the very back of the land. Some days, especially on hot days like this, it was too far to walk.
“Faster, Aunt Wose.” Grant giggled as we took a speed bump, arms flailing in the air, his face animated. I pressed the gas and took another, launching us into the air a bit just to hear the giggle I loved so much. When we made it back to the main building, I parked the cart then grabbed Grant before he could get away, pulling him into my arms as I covered him in kisses.
“Aunt Wose, no! I big boy now.”
