Page 43 of Broken Dream
“That’s good to hear. Tell him I think about him every day.”
“He knows that, Angie. It’s a rough road, but he has more strength than anyone I know.” She sighs, but there’s a contentedness to it. “How are you doing at school?”
“Good. I had my first psychiatry class today, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“How exciting! I know medical school is just beginning for you, and you only have one semester under your belt, but I remember my first psychiatry class. I hadn’t actually decided that I wanted to pursue the discipline until I took that class.”
“Oh? I can’t believe I’ve never talked to you about this before. I guess I just always assumed psychiatry was your calling.”
“Actually, when I went to med school, I was hoping to be a surgeon.”
My jaw drops. Aunt Melanie is one of the greatest psychiatrists in the whole country. She’s helped so many people, and she’s written several books as well. She helped my own family members, and now she’s working with my cousin Diana’s husband’s sister and her daughter, who have been through something horrific.
She’s supposed to be retired, but she keeps coming out of retirement when amazing cases come her way. She can’t turn her back on a person in need.
“Surgery?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. I was convinced that was what I really wanted to do. Until I had to slice open a cadaver for the first time.”
I can’t help a gasp. “Oh my God, I feel the same way. We were supposed to do our first cut today in anatomy lab, but the professor canceled the class.”
“Oh really? Why?”
“He didn’t give a reason. It was probably something personal. You know, things come up.”
I haven’t even thought about why Jason canceled class. I hope everything is okay. There’s a little edge of darkness to him, and I can’t help but wonder if something is up.
“They do. But is that a little bit of disappointment in your voice?”
I don’t know how she does it. No wonder Aunt Melanie is such a great psychiatrist. She can sense even the slightest bit of emotion, even through the phone.
“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“You say you weren’t looking forward to cutting your cadaver, yet you sounded a little bit disappointed that lab was canceled.”
“I was relieved, actually.”
“Okay, Angie. I won’t push you. But I’m glad you enjoyed your psychiatry class.”
“Yes. When I first saw the professor, I thought he was going to be old and stodgy, but he was actually brilliant. He gave this amazing introductory lecture. Even the people who have no interest in psychiatry were kind of captivated. And he knows you. His name is Dr. Carlos Engel.”
“Oh, yes. Carlos. He’s excellent. I didn’t realize he was teaching.”
“He is. And I’m really looking forward to his class.”
“I believe he’s written a few books. His specialty is the trauma of loss.”
“You mean people who lose something they love?”
“Someone they love, Angie. Widows and widowers. Parents who have lost a child. Anyone who’s lost someone they love. That’s what Carlos excels at.”
I pause. “He said something when I spoke to him after class.”
“What was that?”
“He said that psychiatry starts with an understanding of oneself.”
“He’s right, of course.”
