Chapter twenty-eight
Ben
“This is good news,” I say.
My patient, Bianca, shakes her head as if she doesn’t want to believe it. Her husband squeezes her fingers, bouncing lightly in his seat. Moments ago, he’d launched himself into the air, punching the sky as her mouth had dropped open.
“No signs of active disease,” I repeat. “It’s contained. It’s time to start living again.”
This is the part of the job I love. The good news. When people’s faces light up with happiness and disbelief. When the odds were against them, but we somehow negotiated more time.
My cell rings, and it vibrates on my desk. Rose. Again.
I turn it face down.
That’s the fourth call this morning. She’s demanding an update on last night. On my date.
She can wait.
“I just can’t believe it,” Bianca whispers. “It’s gone.”
“There’s no active sign,” I confirm. “There’s always potential it can come back, but for now, you live.”
Tears wet her husband’s cheeks. Palm over his mouth, he crumples forward into his own lap. Whimpering becomes sobbing, and his wife rubs his back.
“He’s been so strong.” She smiles. “I’m so lucky to have him.”
There’s a flash of memory. Bex and I are sitting in the consultant’s office. Her clutching my hand. She was strong; I was the one in pieces. Our news wasn’t positive, but she still thanked me. For being there. For holding her hand.
I just wish I could have done more.
“No,” Bianca’s husband says between sniffles. I blink, reconnecting with where I am. “I’m blessed to have more time with you.”
After they leave, my phone vibrates on my desk once again. I cancel the call, wanting to enjoy the peace of delivering good news and silence for a bit longer.
The place still smells like a hospital. My nostrils fill with disinfectant and rubber. But it’s lighter. Death has receded, survival stepping forward for a while. Sometimes it feels like we’ll never win, but today isn’t that day. And I want to bask in it.
The third call in a row brings me to my senses.
I answer.
“About time,” Rose mutters. I can imagine her, nose screwed up, brow creased. “So, what happened last night?”
“Rose, I’m working.”
“You answered, so you can’t be with a patient,” she counters. “Spill. The. Beans.”
Just then, Ollie and Liam request to join the call together.
“I messaged them,” Rose says.
Of course she did. Now, I’m staring at three out of four of my children.
“Is Savannah joining this debrief too?” I ask, amused but ambushed.
“She’s in class,” Ollie tells me with a shrug. “I’ll update her later.”
Three sets of blue eyes like my own stare through the screen. “I had a nice night,” I say simply.