Page 63 of Lily In The Valley
“I’ll have to see. You know how hospital life is,” I reassured. “When is it going to be?”
“Early November. Mama says I’m pushing it, but I think it’ll be fine. It’ll give Xavier and Khalil time to wrap up this community center.”
“It’ll be the perfect day,” Lynn chimed in. “And we’re all going to be there. I know it.”
The conversation drifted toward updatesNyah and Antonio were considering counseling, Lynn was preparing for a big trial, Vanessa and Xavier were still fake arguing about which brand of diapers they should use. I didn’t say much. Just listened. Let their voices fill the room until I didn’t feel so alone anymore. When the call ended, I stared at the dark screen of my phone. My reflection looked tired. Like the person I’d become had been quietly gnawing at the woman I used to be. I picked up the lavender candle on my coffee table and lit it.
One small light.
One small lie.
I’m fine.
By the startof my second month, I’d memorized the badge scanner code to the pediatric wing. I could navigate the supply closets without looking. I knew which elevator moved fastest and which nurse always had some snacks stashed in her purse.
What I didn’t know was how to keep up.
It started with a blood culture that didn’t get sent on time. A resident flagged it, not me. Dr. Sayegh raised an eyebrow during rounds but didn’t say anything. I told myself I was just tired. Off my game.
The next day, it was a central line order that got duplicated because I hadn’t documented it properly. One of the nurses–Janet, a kind but no-nonsense auntie type–gently pulled me aside.
“Look, I know you’re new here. But this floor runs like clockwork. Patients like Malik can’t afford even minor errors.”
I nodded, throat tight. “Thank you for telling me.”As if I didn’t know this already.
“You okay, Dr. Reid?”
“I’m fine.” The words tasted like chalk.
That afternoon, I stood outside Malik’s room, pretending to review his file while Dr. Sayegh spoke to his mother. The boy had been admitted for neutropenic fever and was spiking again. The last labs showed some irregularities, nothing life-threatening, but enough to raise flags. I’d double-checked the notes. IthoughtI had.
But when Dr. Sayegh turned and asked, “Was his ANC trending down or stabilizing this morning?” I froze.
I had read the report. I remembered reading it. But couldn’t remember the actual number. My brain was static.
“...I think it was–”
Dr. Sayegh raised a hand. “Don’t think. Know.” She turned to Elena. “Pull it up.”
Elena had it up in seconds. “It’s down. He needs new cultures and likely a broad-spectrum add-on.”
Dr. Sayegh didn’t say anything to me in the hallway. Not then.
But after rounds, she found me charting at a desk near the nurses’ station.
“Dr. Reid.” Her voice was calm. Low.
I turned. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You can’t afford to live in your head here. These kids, their parents, need you present.”
“I understand.”
She studied me a moment longer, her tone softening just enough to cut deeper. “You’re previous attending told me you’re grieving. I know that. But if this is where you want to be, you’ll have to find a way to carry it without letting it carry you.”
I nodded again. It was the only thing I could do. My face stayed still. But inside?
I cracked.
