Page 1 of Look on the Bright Side

ONE

LARK

“The sobbing has to stop, Dr.Smith.”

Larkby Christina Smith, MD (at least for now), gulped and looked at the head of Oncology at Hyannis Hospital. She wiped her eyes with one of the tissues he’d passed across the desk. Outside, the steady May rain beat against the windows.

“I know,” Lark whispered, then cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.” There. Her voice sounded slightly less pathetic.

Here in his office, Dr.Hanks (no relation) doled out bad news on a daily basis. Usually to his patients, but today, Lark suspected, to her. The good doctor’s voice was firm but gentle, his eyes kind. “The thing is, Lark, it doesn’t get easier. Not at all. Oncology isn’t for everyone.”

First name, not Dr.Smith. That didn’t bode well.

“I know you felt close to the patient,” Dr.Hanks added.

Lark tried to stifle a sob, failed, and put a hand over her eyes. “It’s just…you’re right. I did. Very close.” She swallowed another sob, but traitorous tears still leaked out of her eyes.

Three hours earlier, Lark’s favorite patient, Charles Engels, had died after an eight-month battle with pancreatic cancer. And yes, she may have (she had) let emotions get in the way. How could she not? Charlie, as he insisted she call him, had been so wonderful, so funny and kind and positive. He’d been only sixty-four…same age as her dad. His wife had been at his side the past three horrible days as Charlie faded in and out of consciousness. On the last day, Mrs.Engels (Patty) had climbed into bed with him, and even though he was barely alive, Charlie had put his arm around her. Their three sons had all been there, crying softly, and the grandkids had visited the day before. Lark had been present for Charlie’s last, labored breath, and when Mrs.Engels let out a wail, well…so had Lark. She hadn’t meant to. It just…slipped out.

“Dr.Smith. Get a grip.” Dr.Hanks folded his hands in front of him and looked at her firmly.

“Sorry,” she said, blowing her nose. God. At thirty-three, she should be in better control of her feelings.

“It’s one thing to be sympathetic. It’s another for the widow to be comforting you, Lark.”

She winced at that. “They, um…they felt like family. Charlie…that is, the patient told me he wished I was his daughter.” She stifled another sob.

“But you’re not.” Dr.Hanks’s voice was a little harder. “And while I commend the commitment you put into your work, it was their loss, not yours.”

“Fair point.” She’d miss Charlie. He was so sunny, even when he was in pain, someone she really looked forward to seeing every chance she got. Even after her long shifts, she’d stop by his room if he’d been admitted, chatting with him, holding his hand, even singing to him one night.

Dr.Hanks sighed. “We can’t have you falling apart every time a patient dies. This is Oncology. We lose patients. We have to make friends with death, at least on some level.”

Lark nodded and blew her nose.

“I’m going to transfer you to the ER,” Dr.Hanks said, and Lark jolted.

“No! Please, Dr.Hanks! I’ll get my shit together. I promise.”

Dr.Hanks leaned back in his chair and squinted at her. “We’re about to admit a thirty-nine-year-old woman for stage four breast cancer, metastatic to liver and brain, for palliative chemo.” He looked at Lark, waiting.

Lark tried to hold her face still. Felt her lips wobbling, and tried not to blink so the tears wouldn’t fall. Didn’t even breathe. Nodded in what she hoped was a clinical yet compassionate and professional manner. “I see.” Her voice was tight, but not choked. Well done, Lark.

“Three kids. Ten, six, and three. Found out she had cancer when she couldn’t nurse the last baby.”

“Oh, God! That’s so unfair!” So much for restraint, Lark thought as she shook with sobs. Her niece was three. What if Imogen lost Addie? What if Lark lost Addie, her identical twin?

“Again, the sobbing,” said Dr.Hanks. “I’ll call the head of the Emergency Department and make this official. It’ll be good for you. Fix ’em up and ship ’em out, no chance to get too attached.”

“Wait. Wait. What if I, um, improve?” She took a breath and tried to sound more convincing. “I was meant for this field, Dr.Hanks. You know my history. Give me a chance to prove myself.”

Dr.Hanks sighed in that can we please end this conversation way. “I won’t rule it out. We can talk about it in a couple months, how’s that? Take a couple days off, and best of luck.”

•••

Lark’s fellow residents hugged her, told her she had a good heart, was a great doctor, all that. It helped, a little. But everyone was aware she was leaving because she couldn’t hack it. And hacking cancer was supposed to have been her life’s purpose.

The second she got outside of the hospital, she did what she always did in times of crisis—called her twin.

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