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Chapter 7
A Grilling
Iwas hesitant to leave my shift on Friday. Valentina had been nauseous all morning, and now she lay in bed, tired, panting, and weak. We couldn’t force anything into her body that she didn’t bring back up. I sat next to her, watching helplessly. We’d been battling her cancer for weeks—battling it aggressively—and I knew it would get worse before the tide turned. Even though I was a doctor and knew better, there was that tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me this was not a battle to be won.
“Valentina, we need to explore—”
She raised a hand to silence me. “No,” she said in a breathy voice that broke me.
“It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to stay on the trial. We can explore other options. Less aggressive treatment.”
Valentina grabbed my wrist, and I could tell from her body shaking that she was trying to squeeze my arm fiercely, but the grasp was so gentle, my eyes softened.
“Okay. You are strong. So strong. I’m going to trust that you know your limits.”
“I told you at the start, Doctor. I want to live. Put me through hell if you have to, but be as aggressive as you can. I can take it.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I’ve gone up against ruthless fighters, bigger, stronger, more experienced. Sometimes they’ve beaten my body to a pulp, but I’ve still found a way to rise and keep fighting. Trust me, this right here,” she swept her hand across her body as if it were on display, “this is nothing compared to some of the fights I’ve won. I’m a professional athlete—afighter. This all you got, doc?”
I smiled at her confidence. This is what it took.Sometimes.Sometimes it took better doctors, but she already had the best. I didn’t mean me. She had Dr. Medina now. It was at that moment that I knew deep in my gut that Valentina Almonte would live. She had what it took, and so did her care team.
Before I clocked out, I finished noting in her chart and met Sara in the doctors’ lounge. The week had kicked my ass. Valentina’s case was only the tip of the iceberg. I had many other demanding patients and a group of new interns who didn’t know an esophagus from a rectum. I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep through my day off tomorrow. I was frowning when Sara spoke up.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You are not bailing tomorrow. I won’t let you break your dad’s heart.”
I groaned. “Fine. What time do I have to be there?”
“Six is good. And please do something about your face. I want pictures.”
“I’m not doing my makeup for a cookout.”
“Fine. But if you don’t do your own makeup, I’ll be doing it for you.”
Sometimes I couldn’t understand why I’d become best friends with such a bossy and intrusive woman. There was no way out of this, and I knew it. A voice we weren’t expecting startled us.
“Am I invited?” It was Dr. Medina. We heard him but couldn’t see him. Then, he sat up from where he had been lying down on the couch. He turned to face us.
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned a party in my presence. It would be rude not to invite me, don’t you think?”
“Uh—” I’d never seen Sara at a loss for words, and this was amusing.
“I’m not sure it would be your thing, doctor,” I said.
“Why not?”
“It’s very casual. My Dad is hosting it, and the guest list does not include many, um . . .”
“Doctors,” Sara finished for me, saving me from having to say,dude, you’d stick out like a sore thumb in the barrio.
“I don’t only socialize with doctors.” He looked from her to me. “And I don’t know any people in this city. It will be nice to have a conversation with someone other than my cat.”
I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me. “You have a cat?”
