Page 134 of Chosen Road

Today, I worked out of the hospital, tomorrow I had off to prepare for the wedding, and Gus would be home.

I just had to get through today, which would take some doing.

Working out of the hospital took much more out of me than the days I spent at my office. At the hospital, we mainly dealt with emergency cases. Instead of working on a plan for therapy, I merely assessed for stability, which entailed conducting a risk assessment to determine if they could survive the waiting period until it was their turn for ineffective therapy that in most cases did surprisingly little. If they passed, I sent them down the next rabbit hole. If they failed, they still waited, they simply did it at the hospital.

Therapy required participation. They needed to buy into it for it to work, and many of these kids simply weren’t in a place where they could commit or even concentrate. Survival took up most of their energy. Even once they were in a safer place, their brains would not allow them to drop their vigilance. Far from thriving, their goal was surviving.

But for the kids who were ready, for those kids, I kept at this job. And for the ones who weren’t, I gave them all the love and care I could in the hour I had them and prayed that God would somehow imprint the fact that they deserved it on their hearts.

The other issue was the sheer number of adults I had to deal with at the hospital. Bill, for one, who had treated me with semi-hostility since I stood up to him a few weeks ago. I’d been to his office since, and the stack of files on his desk had grown, despite the fact that I ran two group meetings. Unbelievably, the sticky tab with my name on it was still adhered to the top file.

I sighed. This meeting was unavoidable. I knocked on his open door and went in.

“Good morning, Bill.”

He gave a short nod. “Amber. Have a seat.”

His attitude toward me had shifted to something less than friendly months ago. There was no discernible reason for it. I asked him about it once, but he put me off, and I didn’t try again. At this point, his hostility was veiled behind a thin veneer of civility.

He continued speaking as I took my seat. “I won’t beat around the bush, this plan of yours is not working. I need you to take over reviewing the files.” He tapped the pile. “We can’t leave these kids hanging on the off-chance your ‘program’ will work, not when we have something sure-fire that does.”

I nodded slowly. The thing about the level of sadness I courted with Gus being away, is that it takes away your fucks. I answered, “That sure-fire thing being me.”

“Well, yes.” He had the wherewithal to at least look a tiny bit chagrined before composing himself and looking back at me, challenging me to defy him.

I sat back and folded my hands across my stomach, curious. “And just where does your responsibility lie, Bill?”

He mirrored my stance by sitting back in his own chair. “I supervise all of you.”

I shook my head. “No, Bill. That’s where you’re wrong. You supervise this ‘program’, and part of that ‘program’ is ensuring those kids,” I pointed at the pile of files, “get what they need.”

He eyebrows crashed together but I continued. “If you don’t want to review the files, set up a peer-review system. But I’m not doing the work of six people. And I’m definitely not doing your job for you.”

He sighed, and his face relaxed. “I know you’ve got the day off, tomorrow. Clear these, and then I’ll figure something else out.”

I stood up. “I do have the day off tomorrow. And I have a patient waiting for me. These are your responsibility.” I leaned over and ripped off the sticky tab with my name on it. I crushed it in my hand and faced him. “My program will work. What isn’t working is leaving these on your desk.”

“Maybe you don’t have what it takes to do this job,” he suggested resignedly.

I smiled, and his eyes widened. “I invite you to take your concerns to the next level. In fact, if you like, I can request a meeting.”

“You do what you have to do,” he dismissed me.

“Are we still meeting this afternoon to go over the files as a team?”

“I’ll be out of the office this afternoon.” He sniffed. “If you can fit it in with your very busy schedule, I’ll allow it,” he added sarcastically.

“Excellent. Enjoy your afternoon off.”

Of all the asinine, pricky, asshat, fucked up piece of shit, useless dildos, that fucking guy takes the prize. I understood this job caused burnout but move the fuck aside if you can’t do it anymore and make room for someone who can. Don’t let the kids suffer. Fucking prick.

Still fuming, I paced the hallway outside my appointment. One of my colleagues came around the corner. Young, only on the job for about six months, she took me in. “You just met with Bill.”

“I did.”

“Did he tell you he was canceling the peer monitoring program?”

“Yes. But he gave me permission to run it today. He’s going to be out of office.”

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