My second alarm blares from the living room and I curse. “Damn it! I have to go, but I might be able to head up to the farm this week?”
Even as I say the words, I know it’ll never happen. It’s been a little over six months since I’ve been able to get up there. I’ve been so busy preparing for today.
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” he laughs. “Maybe you’ll finally bring that boy to come meet me.”
Not again. “Westin has to work.”
“This is ridiculous, Serenity. It’s been years that you’ve had these horrible excuses. Don’t tell me that brain surgeons don’t have a day off.”
Sure they do, but the brain surgeon I frequently spend nights with doesn’t need to meet my father. I can’t even imagine the awkwardness of that meeting. My father wants to marry me off and he’s never going to see that happen.
“I’ll check with him,” I say, knowing I won’t.
“Ren, love is . . .”
“Love is not something I’m going to talk about now,” I cut him off. “I really have to go, Daddy.”
“Kick cancer’s ass, honey-pie.”
“I will. Tell Everton I said hi!”
The phone disconnects, I grab a banana, and rush out the door. Time to make a difference in modern medicine.
Chapter 3
On the walk to work, I go over the plan for my day in my mind. I want everything to go perfectly, however, I’m not stupid enough to believe that will happen. I’ve been a doctor long enough to know the only plan I should expect is chaos.
Today will be a little different since I’m going to be split between my trial and current patients. Twenty-five patients were admitted into this round of the trial, each with varying early stages of ovarian cancer. My research has shown that this medicinal cocktail that I put together should help significantly reduce the size of the tumor that is left if the patient wants to keep her ovaries and uterus. If I’m able to debulk enough of the tumor and leave the ovaries intact before the cancer is at stage II, I can treat the remaining cancer with this drug and the patient can keep everything without a hysterectomy. For any woman still wanting children, this will hopefully become an option. I can get them cancer free, and leave the possibility of having a baby open to them.
At least that’s the goal.
I stand before the hospital, and look up thinking about how when I’m at the top of my game, I feel like I could touch God. Hell, I feel like I am a god some days, but I know I’m not. I’m mortal and so are the people here. It’s my job to keep them alive as long as possible.
“Are you going to stand out here all day?” Martina asks, startling me.
“If I do, today hasn’t officially begun yet,” I smile, still looking up.
“If you don’t start, you’ll never know if it works.”
“I’m almost ready,” I tell her. “I’m just trying to get my bearings.”
“All right then,” she places her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll let you freeze your ass off alone.”
“Thank God for friends like you,” I joke.
She bounces a little and rubs her hands up and down her arms. “I love you, Ren, but I love my fingers more.”
My eyes squeeze closed and I exhale through my nose as she runs off.
“Wimp!”
Okay, Serenity, you can do this. You were made for this. You gave up everything to succeed, now do it.
Sounds easy enough.
I step through the glass doors and people move around. I love this place. I don’t love many things, but this hospital is my safe place.
When my life fell apart years ago, it held me together. I took all the pain, disappointment, frustration, and channeled it into my job. No doctor worked harder than me and it paid off. I have rounds to get through, and then . . . I begin my destiny.
Okay, maybe destiny is a bit much, but I’m going to run with it.
Deep in my heart, I have this overwhelming feeling that today will be the day in my life when something magical will happen.
I make my way to my locker, grab my coat, and head out to do rounds before my board meeting. Since Mrs. Whitley is the bright spot in my day, I head there first. She is in the rehabilitative wing since we know there’s nothing that I can do, but I can’t seem to let her off my caseload. Knowing that I could use a little brutal honesty and perspective before the trial begins, I make the trip there.
“Dr. Adams,” she grins. “Today is a good day!”
“It sure is.” I return her warm smile.
“I’m so lucky to have you as my doctor.”
If she was lucky, she wouldn’t be dying. I know that all the cards are stacked against us. Her cancer is advanced, she’s not a young woman, and this isn’t her first go-around either. I was fully aware, but it didn’t stop my heart from becoming attached to her.
And when I lose her, it’ll hurt more than I care to admit.
“Well, I don’t know about luck, but I’m sure glad you found me.”
She pats my hand, and then sighs. “Are you excited?” Her shoulder scrunches up as the excitement fills her voice.
“I am, but . . .”
“Nervous?” She fills in the blank.
I could admit it, but I won’t. Nerves have no part in today. “Not really.”
She looks me over with pursed lips. “Sure, honey. Doctors are not robots, although, maybe you are.”
“How about we check your vitals and see how you’re doing?” I deflect. It’s always a viable choice. “How did you sleep? Are you eating?”
She tells me about her pain levels and that her appetite is far gone. I wish I had something to help her, but there’s nothing left to do but wait. Which is the absolute last thing I want to do.
My heart aches for her because no one sits with her, and she’s lonely unless the nurses or I visit. I was by my mother’s side every single day. I would go to school and spend the rest of my time beside her. The fact that Mrs. Whitley’s son doesn’t visit pisses me off.
There is such a thing as regret. He’ll wish he’d come around when he still had time.
“Let’s say you only have one day left to live, who would you have one last . . . night in the sack . . . with?” Mrs. Whitley asks this as I take her blood pressure. While it’s not normally a part of my job, I’m happy to do whatever I can to justify hanging out with her.
“Anyone?” I ask. My first thought is of course Bryce. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed—the memories haunt me. His smile, the way he brought every part of me alive just being near him. I miss him. More than that, I miss who I was when I was with him. I wasn’t jaded, angry, or so sure that I would never find true love. He was my true love—until we fell apart.
Then I think about Westin and how, even now, he’s not my first thought. I really hate myself for not being strong enough to forget Bryce.
I don’t want to think of him. But he’s a part of me. Bryce lives inside of my heart and no matter what I do to try to get rid of him—he doesn’t leave.
“Anyone.” Her fragile smile reminds me that time isn’t on her side. Mrs. Whitley is fading. It’s reality, and I can’t make it stop. All day, she sits alone and stares out the window. It’s hard to watch the life drain from her, so I come and spend my very scarce extra time with her. “Dr. Adams, I’m waiting.”
Lord knows she doesn’t do well with that.
“Hmmm,” I ponder as I check her pulse. “Adam Levine?”
“Oh, he’s quite a sexy man. My Leo would’ve been jealous of his hip moves.” Her eyes light up since I know this is her choice too. She waffles between him and bringing back JFK from the dead.
“He is.”
“You should find him. You’re so pretty, I’m sure he’d like you. Most doctors don’t look like you.” She tells me each day how beautiful I am and that I need to marry Westin, since we’re both doctors, and save the world. I wish it were that simple. I couldn’t even save her.
“How so?”
“Wel
l, most girls who are smart don’t have a clue. Like my granddaughter, for example, Lord knows she could really benefit from a hairdresser and some makeup, but you’re pretty. Lots of pretty girls aren’t very smart.”
I laugh at her commentary. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” I grip her hand with a smile.
“It is. And you should never argue with a dying old lady,” she reprimands me. “I’m telling you that you’ve got it all. You should use what God gave you and get yourself hitched to Westin before he smartens up and finds a girl who sees what a catch he is.”
That thought sobers me. I may not love Westin, but we’ve sort of been together for so long, I hadn’t thought about him with another girl.
But today is not the day for these thoughts, damn it. I need to stay focused on the task. “You’re not dying on me today, so we can argue this for a while longer.”
Her cancer has spread so far there is nothing I can do. We fought a hard battle, round after round of chemo and radiation, but in the end, this horrific disease will take her.
“Oh, now, you don’t know if that’s true. We’re all dying, we’re just not dead yet. And stop trying to throw me off here, we were talking about you being a pretty lady that doesn’t have a real boyfriend. That doctor of yours is going to get tired of you stringing him along. Now, back to Adam Levine and any other options we can think of.”
“You’re awfully feisty today,” I laugh. “Besides, I don’t need options because I have patients like you who keep me from being lonely.”
It’s partially true.
“Dr. Adams,” she rests her frail hand on my arm. “How much longer do I have?”
If my heart could break, it would right now. I promised myself to always be honest with my patients about their diagnoses. It’s a trust I don’t intend to break, but it pains me.
“I can’t answer that for you, I know that’s not what you want to hear. All I know is, we’ll do everything we can to make you comfortable,” I assure her.
“Comfort for the body does nothing to soothe the soul,” she says, and looks away.
This is the worst part of my job. It’s the feeling of knowing I couldn’t give her more time. The way my chest aches when I think of those I couldn’t save. Each time I lose a patient I’m reminded how short our lives are. One cell turns dark and infects the rest.
“Did my son call?” she asks me as if on cue. Each day I watch the life drain from her blue eyes when I answer her.
I look at the clock, I have four more patients to check on, but I know right now she needs the comfort. “John called earlier, he asked for an update,” I lie.
We talk a little more and she tells me a story about her husband. I’ve heard it at least ten times, but each version changes a tiny bit. I laugh at her jokes, smile appropriately when she tells me how magical their lives were, and I envy her a little. She’s lived and loved with her whole being. She was able to hold onto her husband, Leo, until the day he died.
“I should get to my other patients before I’m accused of having favorites,” I joke as I get up.
“You do great things today, Dr. Adams.”
I smile and nod. “I will.”
I wave goodbye and head to the lab. I need to make another check on all the trial documents, because I’m crazy and can’t let this go. There’s no such thing as being too thorough, right? I enter the lab, where Julie spends her days hiding behind her microscope.
We both went to medical school, but she’ll never have to look at a patient and give them bad news because she chose lab work over patient practice. I definitely envy that on bad days.
“Ren! Tell me I look gorgeous today,” Julie greets me as I walk in.
“Morning, Jules. You always do.”
Julie, Martina, and I have been friends since college. They are the only people other than Westin I associate with outside of work.
Waiting for test results is never fun, but when the pathologist doesn’t like you, it’s torture. Thankfully, I have Julie on my side and she rushes my labs.
“For the love of God, you’re not up here to check the packets again, are you?” She rolls her eyes.
I don’t respond—she’ll just give me hell. Instead, I make my way over to where the packets lie on the counter, counting each one, and reviewing the order in which the patients are listed.
My trial is being run as almost a lottery. Since phase I went off showing no major safety concerns, and phase II showed promising results, it’s time to step it up and see how much we can accomplish. However, this time, two patients will receive a placebo that will not be aggressive enough to shrink the tumor the way I believe the new medication will.
As each patient arrives, they’ll be given a number that corresponds with a packet. I have no clue which packets contain the medication until we open them. Of course, all the patients still receive chemotherapy, but not what I believe to be the right mixture to kill the tumors and those patients will most likely need a hysterectomy by the end of four weeks.
“You’re going to make yourself crazy,” Jules says as she leans on the table beside me.
“I’m already crazy.”
“This is true,” she agrees. “Talk to your brother today?”
I glance at her from the side and roll my eyes. She’s in love with Everton, which is ridiculous since he’s an idiot.
Jules is smart, beautiful, and comes from a very long line of doctors.
Everton is the quintessential bad boy. He drinks, smokes, rides a Harley like my dad, and we won’t even talk about how he dresses. He’s the complete opposite of her type.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she laughs and nudges me.
“Give up, Jules. You will never tame the beast that is my brother.”
She sighs and rests her head on her hand. “One day he’ll love me.”
My friends are insane. That’s all I can guess at this point because they all inevitably do this when it comes to my brother.
In high school, I lost my friend Gabby because she slept with him, and the next day watched another girl walk out of his bedroom. It was horrible and I hated him for that, but he will never change. Sure, he cares for Dad, but it’s because he has free room and board and my father couldn’t give a crap who he brings home.
After Mom died, my father stopped caring about a lot of things.
“Do us both a favor and forget that Everton exists. Please?” I tilt my head and jut out my lip.
“Whatever, let’s talk about Doctor Sexyass.” She grins as she fans herself with the file in her hand. “How is he?”
I roll my eyes, resting my arm on the table. “If he makes chief, are you going to call him Chief Sexyass?”
“Oh, no, he’ll be Sir Sexyass. So much hotter, don’t you think?”
She’s ridiculous. “He would love this. Please don’t ever let him hear that people call him this.”
Julie continues on like I didn’t speak. “I’d love to strip him down and do rude things to that man.”
“You’d definitely enjoy it. I’ll be sure to let him know you’re interested. We didn’t make plans for tonight if you’d like a go with Wes,” I say jokingly.
“I don’t get you.” She drops the folder. “Are you stupid? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you, Serenity?”
Okay, that escalated quickly and in an odd way. I don’t know what she’s suddenly pissed off about. “What did I do now?”
Julie gets out of her chair and throws her hands up. “It’s what you don’t do.”
“Which is?”
“Get jealous!” Jules yells. “You’ve been screwing his brains out for two years now and you never care when people talk about him. Hell, you actually pimped him out. It doesn’t make sense. It’s literally the stupidest thing ever. How could you be so uncaring, because that’s not who you are. He’s a great guy!”
I shrug. It’s what it is. What does getting jealous do? Nothing. It’s a pointless emotion that will only leave me feeling bad about mys
elf. I’m not exclusive to Westin, so if he wants to date someone else, I have no right to stop him.
“We’re both aware of what we are. I’m exactly that person. I care about Westin, but he’s not mine.”
Jules huffs in frustration. “So you wouldn’t care if I walked up to him right now and stuck my tongue down his throat?”
I ponder it for a second. There’s a tiny tug in my stomach thinking of him with someone else, but I don’t trust that it’s because of anything related to the grand idea of love. The whole idea that love makes you stronger is the biggest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard. There’s nothing strong about love. My father loved my mother with his whole heart and when she died, he died with her. I loved Bryce, only to be left behind. I’d rather never feel those emotions again. I’d rather heal people, make things better and erase the damage life can cause instead of inviting it in.
But what if I did lose Wes? What if my life was no longer filled with those nights together? I’ve never thought about it because we just . . . are. Screw Julie for making me think this way.
Julie clears her throat, bringing me back. “Well?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be jealous, exactly. I want to think if it made him happy, then I’d be okay with it.”
“You’re going to regret this one day, my friend. He’s going to get tired of waiting for your frozen heart to thaw and find a warm body who wants it all. It’ll be sad because you’ll wake up, wondering why you didn’t see how perfect he is for you.”
Sometimes I wish for that. Not because I want to lose him. I do care about Westin. He’s a wonderful man and he’s been there for me in so many ways.
He’s been the constant in my crazy life, and I don’t want to watch him walk away, but I know he wants the happily ever after. I don’t want to rob him of the life he desires and I’m not selfish enough to keep him if he can find love elsewhere.
One thing she said keeps reverberating inside my head, though.
“Jules?” I call her name with hesitation.
Her face shifts from irritation to concern at the tone of my voice.
Julie is the kindest person there is, which is why she wanted to avoid patients. To see someone hurting, sad, fearful, or experiencing any extreme emotion sends her spiraling. She could never tell family members bad news—she’d lose her mind. Despite that, when Julie saw me at the bottom of the barrel, she wrapped her arms around my waist and kept me upright.
You Loved Me Once Page 3