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Chapter 8
Assumptions
Where once there were two men in my life, now there were none. Three months had passed since the cookout, and I hadn’t seen Ramiro at all, and I’d barely spoken to Dr. Medina.
Ramiro went to join his parents in Florida, Dad told me, but then stayed there when his parents came back. He asked Dad for extended leave from the garage, and considering it was his daughter who propelled him away—his words, not mine—he found himself obliged to consent to the request.
Dr. Medina, on the other hand, had pulled a one-eighty on me. He withdrew from the friendly banter we had started. I was given no attention at rounds, and it was almost as if he couldn’t stand to look at me. I had no clue what was up his ass, but I refused to let it affect my work. Never meet your heroes—the best piece of advice I ever got that I stupidly ignored.
Focus on work,I told myself. It wasn’t easy on this particular day. I’d drawn the short straw, though I suspected foul play from Dr. Keach, and had gotten stuck teaching a sensitivity training to our year-one residents.
“We’ve had four complaints this month,” I said to the packed conference room, “of poor bedside manner.” Some of the residents had the decency to feign some semblance of shame, and some shifted in their seats. “So,” I said, “we are going to practice.”
Groans skipped down the row of doctorslike stones on water, so I lifted a hand to silence them. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but this isyourfault, not mine, so take it up with the chief if you don’t like it.”
They shut it at that. Even among these baby doctors, I could tell which ones had issues with women doctors or women telling them what to do in general. It was the ones who took out their cellphones when I spoke or started hushed side conversations. I narrowed my eyes and called on that type first.
“One of the complaints was from a woman who said the doctor, and I quote, ‘walked in the room, didn’t so much as say hello, read my chart, and never even looked up at my face. Then, he took a thermometer and shoved it in my mouth. He didn’t say what he was doing, and he didn’t even ask me to open my mouth. He was very rude.’” I glanced up from the screen when a couple of the doctors cackled. They shut it immediately and straightened their postures.
One hour of hell later, I dismissed all but one of the residents.
“Dr. Dennis, why don’t you join me? We have a patient who was admitted a bit late this morning, so we haven’t been to round on her.”
The redhead nodded. I purposefully selected Dr. Dennis because I remembered a distinct smile on Valentina’s face when he was around. If she had to be back in her hellhole, at least she’d have a friendly face.
Valentina had been discharged, had been feeling a bit better, but then took a bit of a turn. Now, she was back, and I’d had to admit her for major surgery. I told her last time I discharged her that I hoped not to see her until her next round of chemo, but my wish was not granted.
We found Valentina standing at her bed, facing away from the door. She rummaged through a duffle bag, muttering something to herself. She was in her hospital gown, and the part down her spine provided just enough of a peek to see her light pink underwear. I cleared my throat to announce our presence. She whipped around and smiled at the sight of me.
“Doctor Ramirez!” Her grin broke mid-sentence when her eyes drifted over my shoulder, undoubtedly seeing Dr. Dennis. She drew her hand toward her backside to seal the mighty hospital gown gap. She turned chili-pepper red, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was happy to see some color on her. “Rory—I mean, Dr. Dennis. Hi.”
“Hello, Miss Almonte,” he said.
“Valentina. Please.”
“Of course. Valentina. Hello.”
I let a moment pass between them before speaking again. “So, I thought I told you to stay away, young lady.”
“I’m trying, Doc. I’m trying really hard.”
“Are you ready for tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I remember the drill vividly.”
“I know,” I said. “But I still have to go over the procedure with you. Risks, all that.”
Valentina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know that drill too.”
In that second, I got paged to Dr. Medina’s office.What now?It felt like I was being called to the principal’s office. We had barely spoken since my birthday and at work, had only interacted when absolutely necessary.
“Well, missy, if you are that bored of my rambling, maybe I’ll have the capable Dr. Dennis go over the paperwork with you. Do you mind, Dr. Dennis? I was paged.”
“Sure,” he said, taking the clipboard with the consent forms from me.
I tooka deep breath before knocking. Hector’s mood lately had all of us in the oncology department avoiding him. I wasn’t prepared to go into the lion’s den.
“Come in,” said Dr. Medina’s gruff voice from the other side of the door.
