lies-'misunderstandings, ' Paul had called them-began to surface, she had chosen to ignore them, to rationalize them away. By the time she knew that her efforts to hold their marriage together had been a mistake, there was Jennifer. The years she spent trying to accommodate Paul for her daughter's sake had nearly cost Suzanne her career, and perhaps even more than that. Why? she pleaded again. What do you want from me?
'Dr. Cole, it's morning.'
Why?… 'Dr. Cole?'
The nurse's gentle voice, and the touch of her hand, began to dispel what remained of the dream. The colors began fading into a sea of white.
How long had it been since Paul had last forced his way into one of her dreams? The arguments, the guilt trips, the hang-ups when she answered the phone, the missing prescription pads, the visits from the glib, condescending drug enforcement agents… Why had she given the man so goddamn many benefits of the doubt?
'Dr. Cole…'
Suzanne opened her eyes a slit. 'Hi, ' she murmured. Instinctively, she reached up and touched her breast, dreading the thick bandages she expected to find there. 'It's seven-fifteen, ' the nurse said. 'Time for your pre-op meds.' Pre-op. Damn, she thought. It was not over at all. It was just starting. Why was this happening? Life in Sterling had been everything she had hoped it would be-so peaceful, so uncomplicated, so good for Jen. Now, suddenly, everything seemed to be unraveling at once.
Why?
She opened her eyes fully. 'Seven-fifteen?'
'Uh-huh. You're on call for twenty minutes from now. This is some atropine and Demerol.'
Atropine… Demerol. One to dry up secretions, and the other to help one not give a damn about the prospect of being disfigured, or worse.
What wonderful potions we doctors have at our fingertips, she thought acidly. What wonderful potions, indeed. She turned onto her side and winced as the needle pierced her buttock. Then she rolled onto her back and smiled up weakly at the nurse. 'Nicely done, ' she murmured. The nurse, a kind, elderly woman named Carrie Adams, patted her hand.
'You're going to do fine, ' she said. 'I've had a couple of cysts removed, and so has my daughter. The hardest part is the waiting to get it over with.'
'I'll try to remember that.'
Once again, this time in spite of herself, Suzanne reached up and touched her breast. It was all so crazy. This sort of thing happened to other people-to patients. She was trained to help them through their medical crises, not to go through one herself. She had bounced back so far, put so many pieces of her shattered world back together. Now this.
Helplessness… panic… rage… her emotions, held in check over the weeks since that terrifying moment of discovery, swirled about like windblown snow. Where in the hell was the acceptance that the textbooks all wrote about?
'That Demerol should start to work in just a few minutes, ' the woman said, as if reading her thoughts. 'Good.'
'And here are your earphones.'
'Oh, yes, ' Suzanne said, taking the set and placing it on the bed beside her. 'What's on today?'
'I don't know, ' the woman replied, 'but Dr. Mainwaring's on channel..
' She took a three-by-five card from her uniform pocket.'… three.'
The system-tapes picked by the surgeons to be played in the operating rooms and broadcast to earphone receivers-was designed to reduce patient anxiety levels. Over the few years it had been in place, the innovation had received high marks from surgeons and patients alike.
Suzanne flipped the dial on the phones to 3, and held one up against her ear. 'Greensleeves, ' she said. 'Pardon?'
' Greensleeves. That's the music. A really beautiful version of it.
Here, listen.'
She passed the earphones up. The nurse politely listened for a few seconds, and then returned them. 'Very pretty, ' she said. 'Well, I'll be back in a little while. Meanwhile, you just relax. Oh, by the way, there's an envelope for you on the bedside table. Perhaps you'd better read whatever's inside it before that medicine I gave you takes effect.'
Suzanne thanked the woman, and then waited until she had left the room.
The envelope, with the Ultramed-Davis heading and logo, read, Dr.
Suzanne Cole. She peeled it open, knowing it was from Zack. Throughout much of the evening, he had sat there with her, reading out loud from magazines and newspapers, laughing, sharing stories of his life, and, when there was nothing to say, just holding her hand. He had been as open, as tender, and as understanding as any man she had ever met. She wondered if he realized the resentment she was feeling at his intrusion into her life. Silently, she cursed herself for using him the way she had. She had no intention of allowing a man close enough to ruin her life again-not now, at least. Possibly not ever. Zack had said they could make love with no strings attached, but she knew damn well that there were always strings. When the operation was over, regardless of the outcome, she would do what she must to put distance between them.
For a moment, the fear of what might be growing within her breast seemed pale next to the fear that she might never again be able to trust. Dear Doc-It's now 2 a. m. The sleeper they gave you seems to have worked, because you've been out fairly solidly for about an hour. I'm going to leave now, and hope that you don't wake up until a minute or two before they bring you down to the O. R. I just wanted to thank you for Wednesday night, and even more, for letting me share this evening here with you. I don't know if my being here helped you, but it has surely helped me. It's not much of a secret that I think you're pretty special.
I know how frustrating and frightening this is for you-partly because it's frustrating and frightening for me, too. Just know that whatever happens, I'll be with you as much and as closely as you want me to be.
If there's a good, working definition of 'friend, ' maybe it's someone who helps us find the tools to get through this kind of shit when we can't seem to find them for ourselves. Regardless of what happens, you've got one in me. It's going to be benign. That's all I can say.
It's going to be benign, and everything's going to be okay. Be strong.
You have an appointment on my mountain as soon as this is over. Zack 'I'm sorry, Zack, ' Suzanne whispered as she slipped the note back into its envelope, tucking it between the pages of the novel she had been reading for the past two weeks. 'I'm sorry I wasn't stronger…'
She settled back onto her pillow and slipped on the earphones. Her mouth had become uncomfortably dry from the atropine, but the Demerol, too, was having its effect, so she did not really care.
Carrie Adams and an orderly wheeled a stretcher into the room and helped her slide onto it. Please, God, Suzanne whispered to herself as the fluorescent lights flashed overhead, let it be nothing. Let it be benign. Jason Mainwaring met her in the operating room, his blue-gray eyes intent from between his aqua mask and hair cover. Suzanne pulled off her earphones. The same lovely piece she had been listening to filled the operating room. 'Welcome to my world, Suzanne, ' he said.
Suzanne smiled weakly. 'I wish I could say I was pleased to be here.'
'I understand.' He patted her arm reassuringly. 'We'll take good care of you. Don't you worry.'
'Thanks.'
'How do y'all like my music?'
'It… it's beautiful.'
'The most beautiful music ever written, I think. It's called Fantasia on Greensleeves, an' it's by an English composer named Ralph Vaughan Williams. I begin every single case with it, an' then go on to some other pieces of his. If you want, I'll make a tape of it for you.'
'That would be very nice, ' she managed. Jack Pearl, the anesthesiologist, appeared at Mainwaring's side. Together with a nurse, they helped her from the litter onto the chilly operating table. Then, in a maneuver so quick and painless she barely realized it was happening, Pearl slipped an intravenous line into a vein at her left wrist. Next, a broad strap was pulled across her abdomen and tightened.
A final pleasantry or two from Mainwaring, and they were ready to begin.
