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During the second week, Flynn had a day off with no surgeries scheduled, but rather than spend the day sightseeing, I did an orientation to the rehab unit and discovered I loved it. Krista taught me how to do dressing changes and basic care for the immobile patients and physical therapy for the mobile ones.
During the third week, I learned to start IVs and do more intensive care nursing so I could rotate through the PACU or recovery room.
I knew everything was sped up. I was given an opportunity to learn at a rate I wouldn’t get in the US. The sight of blood was still a minor issue, but I just minimized it by averting my eyes. If Flynn encountered a bleeder that he needed my help to control, I just dealt with it.
By the end of the fourth week, I had a moment of self-actualization that brought me to tears. I was gathering all the sterile wrapped instrumentation I’d need for my cases the next day, picking the sutures and other sterile supplies I’d need, when it struck me—I know what I’m doing, and I’m good at it. I’d finally found my niche.
We prepared for our trip back to the United States. I was heartsick having to leave when I felt like I had just gotten started. I sought Krista in the rehab unit on our last day. We immediately hugged each other. I was so emotional, I could not speak for a moment.
Our friendship hadn’t happened overnight. She had been helpful and generous with her knowledge from the onset, but I knew she’d fought with the same jealousies any woman would. We had briefly discussed her relationship with Flynn. Their dating history went back ten years, but only for a few months. Lebanon had become an option for her when she was offered a job as an international travel nurse. She spoke fluent Lebanese and had relatives who lived in Beirut. She admitted that she might have chosen Lebanon to get Flynn’s attention.
After the first twelve-week trip, she had reapplied for a permanent position. Arriving in Tripoli, she had seen the need for an oral-facial specialist, and by that time, Flynn had been doing a fellowship in reconstructive facial plastic surgery. They’d stayed in touch, and she had eventually recruited him to be a visiting surgeon.
She regretted that their relationship had never progressed beyond friendship. Seeing us together had hurt her, but she was over it, she assured me.
“I’ll miss you more than I’ll miss Flynn,” she said, chuckling. “I hope you’ll come back.”
“Oh, I’m coming back,” I said. “I’m not sure when Flynn is returning, but I’ll be back.”
I loved the rehab unit. It was unlike anything I could have imagined, as it involved direct patient communication and physical contact.
Every patient I met brought me back to Lucy. Lucy had needed help to heal and live her life to the fullest, things I hadn’t been able to provide. Assisting Flynn's patients might ease my guilt for not being able to help Lucy.
I regretted not having a bigger impact on my parents when I warned them, and I couldn’t forgive myself for what had happened, but I vowed to prevent such an incident from happening again.
Something else popped up that I didn’t expect, not an interest exactly, but a need to know more, to intervene. The absence of local rehabilitative services, combined with the alarming levels of substance abuse, was a horrifying issue I had encountered nursing patients in the surgical rehab. My mind just wouldn’t get around it. Krista told me they didn’t turn anyone away, and if someone was addicted to substances, they’d do what they could to get them through the healing process.
It was distressing to know that the people would go back to the camps and streets. I dreamed of places like halfway houses where people like Lucy could find rest and recovery.
We left Tripoli. I was so sad, and I know Flynn was surprised at the depth of my emotion. The entire experience had made such a huge impression on me. Watching Flynn do surgeries that had an amazing impact on the patients had had a phenomenal effect on me. Working in the clinic had been life-changing.
“I felt it would be helpful,” he said while we rode to the airport. “But to this extent? I think it’s just you. You’re so amazing. You just dove right in.”
“I’ll never look at my life the same way. I have so much to be grateful for.”
“You made a big impact there, Bella.”
I looked at Flynn, preparing to ask something of him. He had never commented on the job I had done. I wondered if he was one of those people who went through life unable to give accolades. Not that I deserved any, but he had just said I’d made a big impact. Saving his life was one thing. Assisting him was another.
“You never said if you were happy with my progress there.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking mystified.
“I don’t know if you think I did a good job or not. I just went along working because Krista and Adela and the others told me I was doing a good job. But you never said a word.”
“Bella, I’m so sorry. I guess I’m not free with praise, but I should have been. You did an outstanding job. You picked up my routine right away. I was going to ask you if you’ll be my assistant in surgery back home. I’ll teach you the tasks a first assistant does, like suturing, etcetera.”
I hadn’t expected that. Surgery wasn’t really what I loved about the month in Tripoli. It was relating to the patients, taking care of them, helping out in PACU and rehab. If I went to work with Flynn, I’d have to quit working at the car wash. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that big of a lifestyle change.
“I didn’t expect this,” I finally said.
He sat back in the car, contemplating the view. Then he turned to me again. “The first thing I want to do when we get home is rip your clothes off and get inside you. It’s been a long damn month.” I giggled. He definitely charmed me. “Then we’ll talk about what’s next.”
He looked at me with such intense longing that I melted, leaning against him.
“Seventeen hours, thirty minutes, eighteen seconds,” I whispered. “I can’t wait.”
We were exhausted, so maybe that made the trip go quicker. We slept until our next stop. We lost track of time as we talked about our next moves. Flynn had to return to work in two days. I was going to take a week off to contemplate. I didn’t tell him yet that I was against us working together outside of Tripoli. That was our special place, where we were in charge of our destiny. I didn’t want to disrupt the perfect rhythm we’d established together at the clinic. It would differ totally from his hospital. I didn’t want to have to assimilate into his workplace. But that revelation could wait.
