Dianne Drake – Tortured by Her Touch (страница 2)
“I contemplated it myself for a while, so I know the symptoms.”
“What’s ‘a while’? Define that in terms of duration, if you will.”
“Weeks, maybe. I wouldn’t work at improving, and all I wanted to do was die. I mean, what was the point? I couldn’t have what I wanted—my girlfriend had walked out on me because I was suddenly not what she wanted, my friends shunned me for fear they’d say or do the wrong thing. My family couldn’t be around me without crying. My brother was so consumed with survivor’s guilt he couldn’t stand to look at me—he was an army doc who escaped the field in one piece and he was also the one who convinced me to join up. He blames himself for my condition because he disobeyed orders and ran out onto the battlefield. Finds it very difficult being around me now, even though I understand that’s just the way my brother is. He blames himself for my condition because of it.”
“Because of your disability or your attitude?”
“I’m not deluding myself, Doctor. It was my attitude, but my attitude was precipitated by my disability. So I turned my back on the people who still cared—so much so they couldn’t stand to be around me any longer. They tried and I pushed them away.”
Marc shifted positions in his wheelchair, raised himself up with massive arms, then lowered himself again. “There were questions about how much ability I’d regain, whether or not I’d be able to take care of myself, find a new life, function as a man … It’s overwhelming, and it scared me, and the more frightened I was, the more I just wanted it all to end. But I’m not a quitter and that quitting attitude just made me angry, which pushed me harder to prove I was OK. It’s been a vicious circle, as you can see. Was then, still is. But I get through it.”
“Then you’re not over it?”
“I can cope with it now. But I do need to stay busy and find something other than myself to focus on, which is why I retrained, served a second residency at Boston Mercy Hospital, and why I’m sitting here, applying for this job.”
“Meaning you’re going to take all that pent-up frustration and turn yourself into a first-class rehab doctor.”
“Amazing what a healthy dose of anger can do, isn’t it? You know what they say …” Marc’s eyes went distant for a second, but for only a second. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Well, it hasn’t killed me so far.”
“I saw your records, talked to your chief resident at Boston Mercy General. You did a good job there, but what makes you think you can translate that into doing a good job here, where you’re a full staff member with staff responsibilities as well as administrative duties?”
“I know how to lead, and people do listen to me. And as they say, I’ve got street cred now. If you came into your clinic, who would you rather listen to—someone like you who’s never experienced anything more than a shaving cut, or me?”
“You’ve got a good point, Dr. Rousseau.”
The man was trying to get his goat. He knew that. But he also knew Jason Lewis had the right to prod as hard as he wanted since what he was going to get was basically a brand-new doctor in the field. “Good enough to offer me the position?” They’d been talking back and forth for weeks—by phone, on the internet, texting. This whole interview process was dragging him down. He knew he was a liability—a great big one. But he also knew he was a good doctor. So which one outweighed the other?
Lewis laughed. “I will say you’ve got guts to go along with your attitude.”
“And that’s all I’ll need to get through to some of these guys and gals. So offer me a job on the spot, and I’ll see what I can do to curb my attitude.”
“On the spot? You want me to offer you a job on the spot without going to the board first, or talking to the people who will be working closest with you?”
Marc arched his eyebrows. “You’ve got the power, haven’t you? And it’s not like this interview process hasn’t been going on in some form for quite a while.”
“Oh, I’ve got the power, but I’m still not sure you’re the right candidate.”
“Let’s see. I’ve got administrative experience, I’m a good doctor, I have practical experience … What more do you need?”
Dr. Lewis shook his head. “On paper you’re the perfect candidate.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want this clinic turning out a whole battalion of
“In other words, you don’t believe I have the ability to separate my personal from my professional life. So tell me, are you able to do that? Do you never take your work home with you or bring your personal life to work?”
“Most days I’m good,” Lewis said.
“And most days, I will be, too. All I’ve got is my word. I know I’ve got some attitude adjustments to make still, but that could also be a strength in helping my patients, in making them understand how they’re not the only ones. So, on the spot?” He held out a confident hand to shake with Dr. Lewis.
Lewis took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and extended his hand to Marc. “On the spot, but it’s a probationary spot. Three months to start with, then a reevaluation.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” Marc said. “Thank you.”
“I’m warning you, Rousseau, when you’re on my time you’re a rehab doctor, nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand me?”
Marc nodded. “So I’m assuming my office is more accessible than yours because this one is too small for good maneuverability?” Inwardly, he was pleased by the offer. Now all he had to do was see if it was a match made in heaven or hell.
Anne Sebastian looked out her window at the gardens stretching as far as she could see. But it wasn’t the garden she was seeing. In fact, she was seeing red! “Seriously, you hired him to head physical rehab?”
Jason Lewis shrugged. “He has the qualifications we need.”
“And an attitude that precedes him. I have a friend at Mercy who said—”
“He’ll adjust,” Jason interrupted. “In spite of what you’ve heard, he’ll fall into our routine nicely.”
“And if he doesn’t?” she asked, too perplexed to turn around to confront her brother-in-law.
“Then I’ll fire him, the way I would any other staff member who becomes a detriment to the facility or its patients.”
She spun around. “No, you won’t. It’s not in you to do something like that. Especially since he’s a wounded soldier.”
“Then we’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed he works out, won’t we?”
Anne heaved a dubious sigh. “Hannah married a real softie. You know that, don’t you?”
Jason blushed. “You do know that no one else on my staff talks to me the way you do?”
“Family prerogative. Besides, she’s confined to bed until she delivers, so, as your wife’s twin sister, older by eight minutes, might I remind you, it’s up to me to make sure things are running the way they should.”
Anne was an internist who’d earned an additional PhD in psychology, and turned her medical practice into one that specialized in post-traumatic stress disorder. Her sister, an ear specialist, worked with combat vets who’d suffered hearing loss due to trauma. And Jason was also a radiologist who oversaw all the X-rays generated in his clinic.
Jason overexaggerated a wince. “A daughter. Between you two and her, I’ll never be able to win an argument.”
“Poor Jason,” Anne teased.
“Poor Jason is right. Speaking of which, our new hire, Marc Rousseau …”
“Do we have to talk about the man?”
“Not if you don’t want to. But since your office is going to be close to his, I was hoping you’d show him some consideration.”
“Consideration?” she asked. “If you mean taking him on as a case …”
“Not as a case. As a colleague who, like you, started over. It wasn’t easy for you. Remember? Anyway, he comes with glowing references as a doctor and miserable mentions as a human being. He admits his anger. Almost embraces it. But to get his skills, we take the whole package. That’s all there is. Promise. No underhanded scheme to try and fix him or anything like that. Just be his friend. Make him aware that he’s welcome here.”
“Why
“Because he can unquestionably do the job. That’s my first consideration. And I’m also thinking that he’s one of the soldiers who got overlooked in the process. It happens every day, Anne, and you know that better than anybody else. We get the worst ones, the ones who can’t function, for whatever reason. With one in every eight soldiers suffering from PTSD and only about thirty percent of those ever getting help, the rest are living in a personal hell.
“They could benefit from what we do here, and I happen to think Marc Rousseau might be great at spotting troubling issues others have missed. He’s perceptive.” He raised teasing eyebrows. “And who better to put a man in his place if he needs it than you?”
She winced. “All it takes is a bad marriage. Want to hear my opinions on that?”
Jason smiled sympathetically. “Ah, Bill. The vanquished husband. I could go beat him up if that makes you feel any better.”
“I’m sounding like the one with the rotten attitude, aren’t I?”
“You’ve been through your share of misery.”
“And come through it wiser than I was.”
“Look, I know the divorce was tough, but you never let it affect your work when you were going through the various aspects of it. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and hired you pretty much untested in PTSD because I believed in you, and I’d hope you’d do the same for Marc. Give him the same chance I gave you.”