Page 5 of The Doctor's Promise
Noemi sobbed for her patient, her charge, her friend, and for Tomi’s loved ones. For Rafa and Bepi. Marian held her daughter, as did her father Frank and her sister Leonora, but none of them could comfort her. The guilt was overwhelming.
Dieter came to see her, and his usual arrogance was gone. “Oh, Noe… we nearly lost you.” He held her hand and kissed it, but Noemi couldn’t feel anything other than pain and loss.
There was some minor brain damage, Lazlo told her, but it would be up to Noemi to gauge the severity. The therapist led her through some simple exercises, but Noemi only grew depressed and irritated as she struggled to make sense of everyday words and phrases.
During one particular session,she sat morosely as the therapist took her through some new exercises. He kept prompting her until Noemi exploded, “For the love of God! I’m not a child!” She then angrily recited an entire surgical procedure to him.
Jeff, the therapist, listened patiently to it all. “Impressive. Now I know how to transplant a heart, but can you tell me what day comes after Thursday—and do it while not being a jackass?”
Noemi stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing. Jeff grinned. “That’s more like it. Now, I know this can seem like the worst kind of patronizing crap, but what I’m looking for isn’t the actual answer—it’s your reaction time.”
Noemi sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, Jeff. I’m just frustrated.”
“I know, but frustration is good. It means you’re trying.”
Noemi studied him. “Tell me the truth, Jeff. Do you think I’m compos mentis?”
“I absolutely do. It’s like anything, Noe. You were shut down for five months, and you have some catching up to do. Practice and you’ll get there.”
After that,Noemi stopped complaining about her rehab and worked harder. She had been relieved that despite the numbness, she could still walk—if a little shakily—and that the tremor in her hands had disappeared as she got stronger.
But she was obsessed with Thomasina’s death. When Leonora brought Noemi’s laptop from home, Noemi pored over every society page report of Thomasina’s funeral. She gazed at the photographs of Rafael Genova, his handsome face masked with pain, holding his son tightly. Dark shadows under his eyes, a half-grown beard… he was so beautiful, even in such terrible grief, that it seemed even more unfair. Noemi touched his face.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
She had asked Lazlo if she could contact Rafa, but he had dissuaded her. “I don’t think it would be healthy for either of you.”
“I have to apologize.”
“Apologize for what? You did nothing wrong, Noe. You got into a wreck with a drunk driver.” Lazlo, mild-mannered, sounded angrier than she’d ever heard him. Noemi knew that her colleagues had been forced to save the life of the man who hit her, and that it still rankled.
But that was the oath they had all taken.
Noemi felt useless. She gazed for hours at the photographs of Rafa and Bepi and knew there was nothing she could do to make this right. She read that Rafa took Bepi and moved to San Francisco and had set up a foundation in Thomasina’s name.
While Noemi was in a coma, her parents sued the drunk driver who, it turned out, was a wealthy banker from New York. The man settled out of court with them, and Noemi was left with almost a million dollars.
She gave it all to one of Thomasina’s foundations. As far as Noemi was concerned it was blood money. Her parents and sister tried to persuade her to keep it, and she offered to give it to them first—but in the end, they gave her their blessing. “It’s yours to do with what you want,” Frank Castor said, his hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
Noemi didn’t hesitate. A month later, they allowed her to go home—to her parent’s house. Two weeks later, Noemi insisted on going home to her own apartment. Lazlo wouldn’t let her come back to work yet. “You need to heal.”
Noemi staredat her reflection in the mirror of her bathroom. The apartment—her haven, her comfort for so long—rang with loneliness. In the mirror was a woman she didn’t recognize. Only her eyes, large, dark brown, and sad, seemed the same. Her dark hair had begun to grow out, but it would be months before it felt like her hair again. Her skin, usually such a rich caramel color, was yellow and wan.
Noemi closed her eyes and sighed. The depression was beginning to drag her down, make her lose all hope of returning to her former life, and she desperately needed to do something to make herself feel human again. A vacation? No. She wouldn’t be able to enjoy it knowing that Thomasina was in her grave, her family shattered. Noemi kept seeing Rafa’s face as he stood at his dead fiancée’s funeral.
It wasn’t until after she had been in rehab for a few months that Noemi suddenly realized what she had to do. While attending a group session with a bunch of people recovering from various injuries, she had started talking to a young woman recently returned from a tour in Afghanistan.
“We needed doctors,” she told Noemi. “Everything was in such poor supply: drugs, docs, basic supplies.”
It was then Noemi had the idea. Médecins Sans Frontières. Doctors Without Borders. Noemi went to Lazlo first who encouraged her to complete her rehab first.
“You’ll need to be at your peak condition for that,” he warned, “but I understand why you want to go. Your job is safe, Noe. Just promise you’ll come back to us.”
Her family were less understanding. “Stop beating yourself up for something that wasn’t your fault.” Leonora said, her face creased with worry.
Noemi hugged her four-year-old nephew Jack close. The child wriggled in her arms wanting to get off of her lap, but Noemi needed to hug him. “I know it wasn’t… but something in me needs to do something to redress the balance.”
“You and that damn karma.” Leo was pissed off, and Noemi felt badly for her sister, knowing it was because she was worried.
