didn’t feel like it. She told the other Sisters that she had a headache and would have soup and toast back at the residence.
It seemed to her that sometimes the doctors used the patient’s religious faith to manipulate them into accepting treatments that they might not be so apt to agree to. This worried her especially when they involved her in the process.
“Maybe, I should have been a cab driver,” she thought as she trudged down the snowy street.
When she got to the residence Mrs. Porter handed her a folded note.
“Message,” she said without expression.
“Are you sure? For me?”
“Sure thing honey,” said Mrs. Porter as though hiding a smile.
The message was from Edward. Sister Catherine breathed hard and rushed to her room. It was abrupt. “Please call Edward at 435-9998. It’s important.”
As she dialed from the phone booth on the first floor, the memories flew back to engulf her. The magic of prom night, the rose corsage, his white tuxedo jacket, the sweet music. All of sudden it was like yesterday. Her breath came hard and she hoped that neither of Edward’s parents would answer. She knew that he had finished college and was working in Manhattan. They had not seen each other since that summer but she knew where he was and she was amazed that he would call her.
He answered. Her voice sounded false. Too casual. They exchanged pleasantries.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked.
“You must be kidding. You know that I watch over you.”
There was a long silence.
“I have a favor,” he asked finally. “My friend’s father is a patient at your hospital. It would mean a lot if you’d check in on him. His name is Dan Walden.”
“He’s my patient,” she said, her voice quavering a bit. ”I’ve already seen him. But I can go over tonight and visit him again if you think it would help.”
“It would mean a lot. Thanks. I really mean it. Thanks. I’m going up there in an hour or so. We’re not sure he’s going to make it.”
She found a small can of soup in the student’s kitchen and heated it on the hot plate. She made some toast and buttered it. She hadn’t thought about Edward for several months and she had wondered if she was finally becoming free of the flow of memories and emotions. It did not please her that their paths would cross again.
“I watch over you,” she said aloud. “Great.”
After her soup, she trudged back up the street. The night traffic sounds were muffled by the soft snow that floated along, creating a magic crystal effect under the street lights. She stood for awhile, transfixed, then went in the side door of the hospital. Most of the day staff had gone. The night had taken over the huge building encasing it in a calm, quiet envelope. The elevator was open, manned by an elderly hospital employee, and she decided to ride.
“Where to?”
“Hi Jimmy. I’d love to go to Paris but the fourth floor will do for now.”
“Somebody sick up there?”
“Not for long, Jimmy. I’m gonna make them all better.”
“You do that honey. Then I can go home and rest.”
He clanked the metal gate open and she walked out onto the Unit. She was hoping not to be seen. Ordinarily the off duty students were barred from the units. She felt that she had a pass because of the situation. Under that excuse, she didn’t care about the rule but she certainly didn’t want to get caught.
There was only a small staff on the eveing shift so no one saw her. She went into Mr. Walden’s room. He was breathing heavily. Within a few minutes he was gasping for breath. His eyes were panicked. She bent over him. He recognized her and said, “Sister, I told you not to give me that medicine.”
His gasping became worse and she rang for the nurse on duty. She lowered the head of the bed and elevated the foot. By the time the nurse arrived he was barely breathing.
The nurse said, “Call Dr. Soysal. Now! Get him here! Now!”
Sister Catherine ran to the desk and dialed. Dr. Soysal answered immediately. “Is it Mr. Walden?” he asked. “I’ll be right there.”
She ran back to the room but Mr. Walden was already dead.
By the time Dr. Soysal arrived she was sobbing. He told her to wait in the conference room while he attended to the patient. He told another nurse to get her something to drink, to calm her.
When Dr. Soysal finally came into the conference room he was quiet, somber. He sat across from her.
“This kind of tragedy can happen,” he said. “Mr. Walden had an aneurysm that could have burst when he sneezed. He waited too long to seek medical help. Way too long. When that happends our options are very limited. We need to do miracles and we are only human beings who do the best we can. And that includes you.We had a meeting of several of the attending physicians and they all agreed on the procedure that we followed. It is not your fault.”
She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and took a deep breath. “Did you talk to the family?”
“His son was here with a friend. I talked to them. They were not surprised. They understood how very sick he was. They knew that his ice was very thin for skating.”
She felt the acute pain that a son feels with the loss of a father. She wondered what Edward would say if he knew she had given the last medication. She wished that the doctors had dealt with the problem without including her. She was used to her patients getting better, getting healed. Not dying. And not like that.
“I don’t want to be a nurse any more,” she moaned.
“You don’t have to be. At least not for tonight.” He reached to take her hand then decided against it. He spoke softly. “Tomorrow, you will get up and talk to your Jesus, then come on duty and help many more patients. Hundreds more. You will lose some. But you will help many. Many.”
“I’m so tired,” she said.
“Go home. Have a beer. Smoke a cigar.”
“I wish I could,” she said. “Thank you, Dr. Soysal. I’m very grateful. You’ve been very kind.” She stood up and reached for her cloak, hoping to regain her composure. They walked out of the conference roome together. She was already putting her long cloak around her shoulders. She was gathering her identity with it, retreating into her studied persona.
“Oh, and by the way, do not tell your old boyfriend about the medication you gave. There is no need to discuss that. I’ll talk to the family about what we did and why.”
She spun around sharply. “How did you know about…?”
“I am amazing, eh?’’ and he laughed his wicked laugh. “Go home,” he said with great tenderness. “You will be a great nurse. But only if you agree to go home, have a glass of beer and smoke a cigar.”
She laughed through her tears. He reached out and took her hand in both of his.
“If you don’t learn to care for yourself, you won’t make it, no matter how much you know.” He released her hand and turned to go.
She felt very young and very old all at once. He was right and she knew it. How severely she had distanced herself from the emotions that death and loss had summoned. How well knowledge and skill had protected her from the depths of feeling that she dreaded. She started to speak but he held up his hand.