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“Dear?” Miriam said.
“A doctor. I want to be a doctor.” The words sat heavy in my chest. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. I just wasn’t certain it was the path for me.
I wanted to help people, that I was certain about. But there were more ways than becoming a doctor to do that.
“A doctor, my, my. You must be very intelligent if you want to attend medical school.”
“I do okay.” A faint smile traced my lips.
“Ladies, how are we getting on over here?” Claudia laid her hand on Martha’s shoulder.
“Celeste was just telling us about her dreams of becoming a doctor.”
“Ah yes.” Claudia’s eye crinkled with disdain. “The future surgeon, was it?”
“I’m not sure what specialty I want to go into yet.”
I’d never met this woman, but it was clear she had a personal issue with me—or my family name.
“We’re going to all come together now to do our talking circle. You don’t need to join us if—”
“Actually, I’d love to sit in, if that’s okay?”
“Of course.” She pursed her lips and spun on her heel, marching away.
Miriam whistled under her breath, and I glanced at her. “Someone feels threatened,” she said quietly.
“Claudia is a good woman,” Martha added. “But she’s very precious about her groups. I’ve seen at least two volunteers leave this year because they didn’t fit Claudia’s vision.”
“Oh.” My stomach knotted.
Martha chuckled, laying a bony hand on mine. “Don’t worry, doll. We’ll look out for you.”
Miriam nodded, a conspiratorial smile on her face but all I could think was…
What had I gotten myself into?
* * *
It wasn’t easy listening to everyone share their stories in the talking circle. More than one person got upset, sharing how much of a burden they felt to their family, how much pressure it put on the people around them.
For as unwelcome as Claudia had made me feel, it was impossible to deny how good she was at her job. She gave everyone space to talk, reassuring them, offering them words of advice and practical tips. But she didn’t steal the show. She encouraged everyone to pitch in, to share the little things that made living with MS easier for them.
It was humbling to see the strength among the small group of people who face a daily struggle of chronic pain and fear for what the future might hold for them.
At the end of the session, Claudia offered one-to-one counsel, as did a local nurse with experience in pain management. But Miriam made a beeline for Mr. Clarkson, the center’s advisor on financial aid and support. I watched as she pulled a letter from her purse and showed him the contents.
“It’s likely to be the insurance company refusing to cover all the medical bills,” Mrs. Sinclair said over my shoulder, startling me.
“I… that happens a lot?”
“More often than you would think. A lot of our attendees have Medicare. It works when it works, but when it doesn’t… things can be very tough for those families.”
My heart sank. I didn’t ask what would happen. I was well versed on the flaws of the healthcare system. But I’d never witnessed firsthand the impact of it.
She motioned for me to follow her down the hall. “Did you enjoy the session?”
“Very much. Although Claudia didn’t seem to approve of my presence.”
