“Yes,” I said but didn’t want to admit.
“So being with your folks didn’t make that go away.”
“What will?”
“Do you want it to go away?” he asked.
Was he shitting me? “Why wouldn’t I want it to go away?”
“Some people like to wallow in pain. Or perhaps feel it’s a punishment they deserve.”
The ‘wallow in pain’ made me think of Eli. Punishment though, was that what I wanted? No. What I wanted was to be a man worthy of love and success. Worthy of Mia. Jesus, I missed her. I felt like my heart was torn in a million pieces in my chest. I’d hurt the first time she left me, but this time, it felt worse. Was it because I left?
“Tell me what to do to make it stop, and I’ll do it.”
“Start by keeping a journal, especially around the anxious episodes. For example, when I mentioned issues in an emergency room, I could see that affected you. Write down the trigger and what you’re feeling.”
“How does reliving it help stop it?”
“It faces it head-on. It helps you understand it. And gives you a chance to process it in a way to avoid it in the future or take away its power. Often irrational thoughts or guilt are involved. For example, what about the emergency room comment made you upset?”
I inhaled a breath, not wanting to go back to it. “You said mistakes and miscalculations in life and death situations.”
“Do you think you made a mistake that led to a death?”
I looked down. “I don’t know.”
“Nick.” The therapist's voice was sharp, snapping my head up.
“Be honest. In that moment, what was the thought?”
“That I made a mistake that lead to a death.”
“So why did you say, you didn’t know?”
“Because I’ve gone through it a million times and while I did leave her to attend another patient, at the time I’d done what needed to be done. I’d ordered the tests. I thought I’d be ruling out a heart or lung issue, but …" My heart sped up and a wave of despair overtook me. “Fuck.”
“What are you feeling right now?”
“Like shit.”
“No, in your body. Hot? Cold? Anxious?”
“My heart is racing. I’m panicked that I fucked up and I can’t live with that.”
He nodded. “Did you order the tests?”
“Yes.”
“The other patient you attended, did he or she need you?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “The baby was crowning when I got to her.”
“So yes. Was there someone else who could have helped either of them?”
Fuck why was he doing this? “The other doctor on duty was in the middle of a procedure.”
“There were only two doctors on duty?”
I nodded. “At that time yes. It’s a small hospital.” I lay my head back on the couch, feeling emotionally whupped.
“Have you lost a patient before?”
“Yes, but this woman … she’d been my teacher. Everyone’s teacher.”
“So along with losing her, you have to bear the grief of the town.”
“And blame. I’m being sued.”
He nodded. “What could you have done differently?”
“Stayed with her.” That was the thing that kept going around in my head. I should have stayed with Ms. Mason.
“Then who’d deliver the baby? What if the mother or baby, or both died because you weren’t there?”
“The delivery was routine. No complications.”
“You know that now, but how could you know that then?”
I scraped my hands over my face. He was right.
“This is a process Nick, and maybe this situation isn’t the best to start with since it has ongoing parts to it. The point is that often we let our imaginations and emotions run wild. Our body responds to that, whether the situation is real or simply a thought. That’s why you have panic attacks or second guess your work and the nightmares. They’re responses to what you’re thinking or feeling. Learning to put them in perspective is a start.”
“How long will it take?”
The doctor laughed. “Well, that depends on you and how serious you are about making a change. It won’t happen in one session, though. Are you still practicing medicine?”
I shook my head. “I quit. Not because of this though. It was something else.”
“What else?”
Jesus, did I have to tell him all my faults? “A woman I care about was hurt.”
He watched me as if he was waiting for more. When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “People thought I should have been put on leave or that the hospital was covering up a mistake they think I made, and they protested. It got a little out of hand, and she got knocked down.”
“That’s your fault too, I imagine.”
I shrugged. “If I’d handled Ms. Mason’s case differently, she might be alive, which means no protest, which means Mia wouldn’t be hurt.”
“So, the protesters have no blame? Were they on hospital property?”
I nodded. “Yes. Outside the door.”
“It’s against the law to block access to care.”
“They were there because of me.”
“Are you sure? Why isn’t it your patient’s fault for not getting to the hospital sooner? Maybe if she had, your tests would have been done fast enough to diagnose and treat her.”
My brain skidded to a halt at his statement.
“What? What about what I said has you reacting?”
I couldn’t quite say, and yet, there was something about it. “I’m not sure, but it … I need to reread my notes.”
“So maybe there’s something to that?”
“Maybe.”
He stood and went to his desk, opening a drawer. “Here is a journal. If you don’t want this, you can buy one. But track your triggers, even if it’s just a guilty thought, but especially your dreams and anything that causes you to feel anxious.”
I took the journal.
“You don’t have to show it to me or anyone. It’s just for you. Sort of like how you write notes for your patients. You’re chronicling your symptoms.”
I laughed. “Good way to talk to a doctor.”
“Doctors can make the worst patients.”
When I got home, I went
