“That’s right, Ma’am. Does your chart also tell ya I have had this three other times this year?” he asked.
“Yes it does, may I take a look, Henry?”
There was not a lot of skill involved in diagnosing or treating trench foot—or immersion foot as it was sometimes called, but rather in its prevention. The difficulty was found in keeping it clean, dry, and elevated so it could heal. Dry socks and shoes were a must.
Henry’s foot wasn’t the worst I had seen, but it wasn’t far off. I gathered the foot tub and made preparations for him to soak it in the hot water. As I worked to roll up his dirty pant leg, it hit me that cleaning this small area was a futile effort when the rest of him was filthy.
“Henry, can I ask when the last time you were able to shower or bathe was?”
His eyes dropped along with his head. “I’m sorry, I must be pretty stinky to you little lady, my apologies. The lake is quite a hike from where I sleep and my foot’s been in too much pain to make it there lately,” he said.
“Well, that’s quite alright. I’m just thinking we could get you a shower today instead of just a foot soak. I think you’ll feel better and then we can do the hot soak for your foot afterward. How does that sound?” I asked.
“Ah, ha! I knew you were gonna be a good one little lady! That would be terrific!”
“Great, well they are just down this hallway here. I will wait for you outside the door. Pull the cord if you need anything. Soap is in the shampoo dispenser. Take your time,” I said.
I couldn’t help but smile. That such a simple thing could create such joy in someone was pretty amazing. We walked slowly together down the hall as Henry limped, wincing at the pain with each step he took. He saluted me before entering the men’s shower room and I immediately returned the gesture.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The drill sergeant nurse was back. Her eyebrows were so furrowed; I struggled to identify even one of her eyeballs.
“Mr. Albert is just cleaning up in the shower before we do his foot soak,” I said.
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud! Of all the ridiculous ideas...that man has been homeless for twenty years! One little shower is not going to magically make him stop needing medical treatment here. That’s like giving a dog a bath during a rainstorm; you just know he’s gonna go roll in the mud the second you let him out. All it does is waste our time,” she said, hands on her hips.
“Mr. Albert is not a dog, and though it may not make a difference long term, it will make a difference for him today.” I did my best to stay respectful, but I could feel my heart rate quicken as I spoke.
“Huh...talk to me about that in thirty five years sweetheart, you won’t be doing anything for the difference of one day!”
She started to storm off, when I called to her.
“I didn’t get your name? I’m Tori.”
“Stormy,” she yelled back, not bothering to turn her head as she spoke.
The most appropriate name for a person I might have ever heard.
**********
It was as if a new man had emerged when Henry came out of the shower. Freshly washed, shaved, and smelling like soap, we walked back to the pod. I prepared his foot bath by heating the water to 104° and set the timer. It had to first soak and then completely dry in order for any healing to take place. The hardest part for Henry would be keeping it clean and sanitary so no more infection built up.
“Henry, I know it will be difficult for you, but your foot needs to be checked once a day and soaked in warm water. Are you able to get to a place to do that, or will you need to come back here?”
“Well...I don’t have anything fancy like this, Doc,” he said pointing to the plastic foot tub. “But I can probably get back here if that’s what I need to do.”
“The problem is if we don’t get this under control now, it will fester and spread and could ultimately lead to gangrene, or amputation. I will go and find you several pairs of clean socks, but just make sure you are never putting the same ones on twice. Don’t sleep in them, and try to keep your feet dry as much as you possibly can, alright?” I asked.
“Sounds good to me. I always listen to pretty ladies,” Henry said, smiling.
He winked at me when I got up to go find him the hospital socks in the supply closet. For a moment I thought of Kai— of his wink yesterday before he left the house.
Had I really agreed to go out with him?
“Here you are Mr. Albert, now make sure you change your socks, and come back to get checked for the next few days so we can soak it and make sure it’s getting better and not worse,” I said, handing him six pairs of hospital socks.
“Thank you,” he said.
His eyes welled up with tears, dangerously close to spilling over onto his cheeks. “You helped an old man feel dignified again. It wasn’t always like this for me ya know, my life used to be different—normal. But there are things that happen in life and in war that can rob you...I let that happen to me,” he said. “You’re a special gal, Nurse. I’d see you any day over nurse Stick-in-the-mud. Tell her I said that, too!”
He stood up, grabbed his cane and backpack, and tipped his hat to me as he left. I watched him go. Strangely, I felt more connected to him than I did to most people I knew.
What robbed him twenty years ago?
**********
The patient stream was steady after Henry left. There was almost always a long wait within Emergency. Patients were treated by medical need first, not by arrival time. It was an interesting balance and often caused a lot of stress for the triage staff who did the initial assessments.
The beginning of fall was always filled with soccer injuries, football fractures and concussions, along with flu bugs that got out of hand during the newness of the school year. The twelve-hour shift was full, to say the least. Sleep was all I could think about when I climbed the stairs to bed that night.
Just as I drifted off, I heard a low rumble on my night stand. A new voicemail blinked on the screen of my phone, begging to be heard.
It was the one Phoenix number that I wanted to delete: Dr. Susan Bradley’s number.
SEVEN
Rolling out of bed the next morning, I checked the outside temperature on my phone before dressing in my running clothes. I may have promised I wouldn’t run in the heat wave, but I never promised to stop running. The low 80’s were a huge improvement to the 100 degree weather that had oppressed Dallas just days ago. I wasn’t about to let the temperature drop go to waste. I needed to plan out my next move, running would help me do that. The anger that I had gone to bed with after hearing Susan’s message was still seeping from my pores.
“Tori, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now and I get that. I know you’ve been meeting with Dr. Crane. As upset as I’m sure you are about that, I don’t regret my recommendation for your therapy. I care about you...I hope you can make the most of the sessions. Take care.”
My sister was asleep when I left the house. That made my escape much easier this time around—no one to answer to, just how I liked it. There was a time when authority had made me feel safe, cherished, and even loved, but that time had passed away like the ending of my childhood. Dr. Bradley had just proved that point all over again. No one could be fully trusted with who I’d become.
So much of who I used to be had either died from pure starvation or from suffocation. Those who had been close to me, either as a friend, colleague, neighbor or family member, were the first to be pushed aside in the weeks that followed the accident. Stacie was the only exception, but even she was kept at arm’s length. I hadn’t anticipated the gossip, whispers, or awkward conversations that seemed to linger wherever I went.
Death’s wake had a way of unleashing the worst in people.
Leaving Dallas had been my most logical choice, despite the protests of many. Ironically though, it was that same many who spoke carelessly about the irreversible damage that had been done to me: t
he survivor of such a horrific tragedy. They did not get a vote.
There were no goodbyes.
My conscience had stayed quiet until the evening of my departure. I had sworn Jack and Stacie to secrecy days before I left, knowing when I did that they would not let me take a taxi to the airport like I had wanted to.
I finally agreed to let them take me, after much debate. Truthfully, they were the only two people I could count on. As they drove me to the airport, I stared at the one-way ticket to Phoenix in my hand.
After overhearing my mother sob that I was “wrecked for life” to my father who consoled her, I kept the date a secret. I would call when I arrived.
My pain was like a car in overdrive after hearing that. It raced around recklessly, oblivious that it hit every speed bump at maximum capacity. It never stopped to check for damages.
I was certain I would never get ahead of the pain, but I had to try.
Leaving was my only option.
Jack had carried my luggage to the ticket counter. Quietly, he walked me to security as Stacie lagged behind us, crying. We had never been apart. Even through my college years I had chosen to stay close to home, for her.
Stacie reminded me often of how long she’d prayed for a baby sister when she was young. My mom had told her she just needed to be happy as a “lucky only child”. But as luck would have it, the answer to her prayers came in the way of an unexpected pregnancy. Stacie was given a baby sister, and my parents were given a second child. Though we had our drama moments growing up, she had always been my one true confidant in life.
She was my best friend.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this, Tori? It’s not too late to decide to stay. You can live with us and take as much time as you need to...figure things out.” Jack squeezed my shoulders with his hands as he looked down at me.
“I know. Thank you Jack…but I’m sure.”
I was sure I needed to leave, but doubted that time would fix anything, much less help me to ‘figure things out’.
“I love you little sis, more than I could ever say,” Jack said, emotion thick in his voice.
Stacie moved to stand in front of me then, her eyes red and swollen. They were puffier than I’d ever seen them, including the night before her wedding. The night she had blubbered hysterically through her rehearsal dinner speech over the “great catch” she’d found in Jack. Public speaking did that to Stacie.
Microphones were kept far out of her reach after that.
This tearful moment, however, was certainly not spurred out of a grateful heart. Her sorrow had filled every inch of the air around us. I hated that I was causing her pain, but I was trapped in my own pain-prison, and there was no way to get out.
She grabbed my hands as she sobbed for what felt like an eternity. Finally, a strong resolution filled her face. She had pulled it together—one last moment—for me.
“I love you, Tori. I’ll be praying for you every day…don’t forget that.”
Her voice was surprisingly strong for how hard she’d just been crying only seconds earlier. She leaned on Jack for support. I could sense another round of emotions coming for her so I hugged them both quickly, and turned away to join the long line at security.
I had to force myself not to look back at them. As much as I hated to see the hurt in their faces, it wasn’t the worst thing I had come to know in the eyes of my family members. Just below the surface of their heartache was a resolve that made my stomach churn: disappointment.
Not only had I failed Anna, I had failed all of them, too.
I ran now, along the track near the lake. I focused on the rooftops while keeping my breathing in check and thinking about Phoenix.
Those first few months in Phoenix were the loneliest months of my life. Sure, I had been asked out on dates, or drinks after work, but I had turned them all down. Once the guys figured out I wasn’t the good time they’d hoped I’d be, I stopped getting asked.
I took Stacie’s calls more often than not, due to the fact that I knew she’d show up on my doorstep if I didn’t. I kept our conversations brief, only skimming the surface when we did talk. She had tried several different tactics to get me to “open up”, but as I told her, I just didn’t know what she expected me to say.
I didn’t even know what to say to myself.
My folks only received a call from me at times when I was almost certain I could leave them a voicemail update. Mostly though, I relied on email as our main form of communication. It was safer that way. The latest sights and sounds of Phoenix were a common theme in our email correspondence. Discussing local real estate was a topic I was well versed in and quite comfortable with.
I had truly become an expert in the art of deflection.
The first time I went out for the sole purpose of socialization was about four months after moving to Phoenix. Early one morning, after working the entire evening prior, I headed out the back doors of the hospital. The tram was located just a block away and was only a ten minute ride back to my apartment. I was desperately longing for sleep.
As I walked through the parking garage I heard a frustrated scream rip through the large cement tomb. Due to my lack of sleep, my nerves caused me to jump. I turned instinctively in the direction of the cry I’d heard. I spotted her then, slumped over her trunk. As I neared, I could see her tire was flat. I could also see how tired she was.
The feeling was mutual.
“I can try and help you put on a spare. I saw my brother-in-law do it a couple of times,” I had offered, trying to sound much more enthusiastic than I actually was.
“No, I’ll call my insurance and have someone come out. It will just be an hour or so wait. Hey, you hungry, Green?” Dr. Bradley asked. Her face seemed to perk-up at the thought of breakfast.
I wasn’t hungry for food, but in that moment, I was hungry for conversation—real conversation. It was as if the months of living in my hole of social silence had finally reached maximum capacity.
“Sure, where to?” I asked.
“I know just the place; it’s only half a block away. Let me call my insurance hotline and get this tire thing going. Then we can walk there.”
Twenty minutes later we were sitting at a local diner with a large order of flapjacks and coffee. We talked about what it was like to move from Dallas to Phoenix, and the differences in people, climate, weather, houses, and even food. We laughed about the culture and how it compared to the high society back home. It had felt good—really good, almost normal.
That had started an almost once a week tradition at the pancake house on 5th Street. It was strange at first to think about eating with a doctor of her position and caliber, but neither of us spoke about it outside of those mornings. It soon became familiar, routine, and even downright homey. She had become a friend, the only one I had outside of those that were obligated to me through blood.
Susan and I had shared a lot with each other over pancakes and coffee. Things I hadn’t felt compelled to share with anyone—even Stacie. By the third month of our breakfasts together, I finally stopped avoiding the questions surrounding the real reason behind my move. The hardships with my parents and friends back home and the major shift in my career focus had been a suspicion of hers for a while.
As I retold the story of the accident, I kept only to the facts. It had been the first time I had told it. I didn’t shed a tear; I didn’t deserve to shed a tear.
Susan slowly began to chip deeper into my hard exterior, asking me questions that even my own subconscious had been afraid to ask. Though I had once been concerned about her sympathy toward me and how it could affect my job, she never coddled me. Instead, she pushed me harder, especially at work. Sometimes I wondered if she was deliberately trying to break me, to see if I would throw a fit of rage or some other kind of nonsense, but that never happened.
In my eighth month of working under Dr. Bradley, she pulled me aside in a staff lounge with a very concerned look on her face.
�
�Green, I want a truthful answer. I have given you the benefit of the doubt for some time now because I always see you eat a hearty-sized meal at breakfast, but I just can’t let this go on any longer. You need to be honest with me, starting right now.”
I was shocked at her accusatory tone. Panic ripped through me, trying to identify what she was referring to. I came up with nothing.
“I...I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you are talking about,” I said.
“Your weight, Green. You’re shrinking by the second and I need to know what is happening with you. The staff is noticing too, and there are many suspicions going around about an eating disorder. I want to believe that we are friends enough for you to confide in me if you need help,” she said.
“No, no I promise Susan—I mean, Dr. Bradley—I swear to you I eat! I eat normally. It’s...it’s not the eating, it’s the running I’m doing. I run… I run…”
I couldn’t finish.
Why did I run? To lose weight?
No. That may have been a nice side effect, but that wasn’t the reason.
I hadn’t stepped on a scale in years. I stood puzzled by my own lack of thought.
Dr. Bradley broke the silence.
“You run from the pain, right, Tori? You run because of the pain. When you said you had taken up running, I thought it was for health reasons or even a new hobby since you’re low on companionship here,” she said, pausing before looking into my eyes again. “How much? How much are you running?”
I had never tracked the distance—not even once. The trail I ran on was at least a 12 mile loop, but I had only just recently mastered that. My runs seemed to be much longer after stressful days at the hospital, the days where I aided children—young, sick children.
“I’m honestly not sure. I don’t really keep track of the distance. I just go until...I can’t go anymore,” I said.
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