Page 10 of You Loved Me Once
“Nervous?” She fills in the blank.
I could admit it, but I won’t. Nerves have no part in today. “Not really.”
She looks me over with pursed lips. “Sure, honey. Doctors are not robots, although, maybeyouare.”
“How about we check your vitals and see how you’re doing?” I deflect. It’s always a viable choice. “How did you sleep? Are you eating?”
She tells me about her pain levels and that her appetite is far gone. I wish I had something to help her, but there’s nothing left to do but wait. Which is the absolute last thing I want to do.
My heart aches for her because no one sits with her, and she’s lonely unless the nurses or I visit. I was by my mother’s side every single day. I would go to school and spend the rest of my time beside her. The fact that Mrs. Whitley’s son doesn’t visit pisses me off.
There is such a thing as regret. He’ll wish he’d come around when he still had time.
“Let’s say you only have one day left to live, who would you have one last...night in the sack...with?” Mrs. Whitley asks this as I take her blood pressure. While it’s not normally a part of my job, I’m happy to do whatever I can to justify hanging out with her.
“Anyone?” I ask. My first thought is of course Bryce. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed—the memories haunt me. His smile, the way he brought every part of me alive just being near him. I miss him. More than that, I miss who I was when I was with him. I wasn’t jaded, angry, or so sure that I would never find true love. He was my true love—until we fell apart.
Then I think about Westin and how, even now, he’s not my first thought. I really hate myself for not being strong enough to forget Bryce.
I don’t want to think of him. But he’s a part of me. Bryce lives inside of my heart and no matter what I do to try to get rid of him—he doesn’t leave.
“Anyone.” Her fragile smile reminds me that time isn’t on her side. Mrs. Whitley is fading. It’s reality, and I can’t make it stop. All day, she sits alone and stares out the window. It’s hard to watch the life drain from her, so I come and spend my very scarce extra time with her. “Dr. Adams, I’m waiting.”
Lord knows she doesn’t do well with that.
“Hmmm,” I ponder as I check her pulse. “Adam Levine?”
“Oh, he’s quite a sexy man. My Leo would’ve been jealous of his hip moves.” Her eyes light up since I know this is her choice too. She waffles between him and bringing back JFK from the dead.
“He is.”
“You should find him. You’re so pretty, I’m sure he’d like you. Most doctors don’t look like you.” She tells me each day how beautiful I am and that I need to marry Westin, since we’re both doctors, and save the world. I wish it were that simple. I couldn’t even save her.
“How so?”
“Well, most girls who are smart don’t have a clue. Like my granddaughter, for example, Lord knows she could really benefit from a hairdresser and some makeup, but you’re pretty. Lots of pretty girls aren’t very smart.”
I laugh at her commentary. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” I grip her hand with a smile.
“It is. And you should never argue with a dying old lady,” she reprimands me. “I’m telling you that you’ve got it all. You should use what God gave you and get yourself hitched to Westin before he smartens up and finds a girl who sees what a catch he is.”
That thought sobers me. I may not love Westin, but we’ve sort of been together for so long, I hadn’t thought about him with another girl.
But today is not the day for these thoughts, damn it. I need to stay focused on the task. “You’re not dying on me today, so we can argue this for a while longer.”
Her cancer has spread so far there is nothing I can do. We fought a hard battle, round after round of chemo and radiation, but in the end, this horrific disease will take her.
“Oh, now, you don’t know if that’s true. We’re all dying, we’re just not dead yet. And stop trying to throw me off here, we were talking about you being a pretty lady that doesn’t have arealboyfriend. That doctor of yours is going to get tired of you stringing him along. Now, back to Adam Levine and any other options we can think of.”
“You’re awfully feisty today,” I laugh. “Besides, I don’t need options because I have patients like you who keep me from being lonely.”
It’s partially true.
“Dr. Adams,” she rests her frail hand on my arm. “How much longer do I have?”
If my heart could break, it would right now. I promised myself to always be honest with my patients about their diagnoses. It’s a trust I don’t intend to break, but it pains me.
“I can’t answer that for you, I know that’s not what you want to hear. All I know is, we’ll do everything we can to make you comfortable,” I assure her.
