Subject to Change (2 page)

“So you want to meet to work on this project, is that right?”

“Um, yeah. The sooner, the better.”

He just kept staring at me, waiting for me to say more.

“Um…we could go to the library?” Why was I stumbling so much? Probably his basic lack of social capability. “Tomorrow? I’ll be there all night.”

The corner of Hawk’s mouth quirked up in a smile, and my cheeks burned when I realized what I’d just said and how he had interpreted it. I pulled an eye roll to cover it up. “What time can you get there?”

He yawned again and turned toward the door. “I can do quarter after eight, earliest. Okay with you?”

“Yeah, I…I guess.” By the time I’d stuttered out my answer, he was already halfway down the hall.

“Wait — where?” I asked.

“At the library, like you said,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll find you.”

I shook my head and threw my hands up in the air. “Okay…” I called lamely back.

One second later, he’d left the building.

Chapter 3

I shook
off the frustration of my interaction with Hawk — I cringed just thinking his name — so I could get my head in the game to start my clinical shadowing. Doctor O’Donnell was the friend of a family friend and saw both general practice and oncology patients in her office at ’The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. I knew that today I’d be following her around while she did well baby visits, but I was hoping eventually she’d let me shadow her in the oncology ward as well.

I introduced myself at the check-in desk promptly at one o’clock. “Is she expecting you?” the receptionist asked. “Because Doctor O’Donnell didn’t tell us she was taking a shadow. She never has before.”

Just then a woman with a swoop of brilliant red hair rounded the corner. Her eyes sparkled through her thick-rimmed glasses as she smiled and extended her hand to me. “Josephine?”

“Joey,” I said, grasping her hand.

She smiled, her blue eyes surprisingly bright behind her glasses. “Your father was a very talented man. The community still misses his contribution to our work.”

The receptionist raised her eyebrows stared at me. I tried my best not to make a face back at her. ’Instead I asked, “You knew my dad?”

“More like knew of him, but yes. When Doctor Levy told me you were the next in line of the Doctors Daly, I couldn’t turn down their request. ”

Oh. So this was nepotism.

“I promise you, Dr. O’Donnell, I’m completely dedicated to the field.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. Doctor Levy told me that you’d wanted to do this since you were little, and from your resume, your grades seem good enough.”

Yeah. That was when I’d only taken introductory Orgo, but I held my tongue.

“Being Doctor Daly’s daughter made this a no-brainer. I don’t accept most students for shadowing, but I’m happy to do it for you.”

The stress in my chest eased a bit. “Thank you, Doctor O’Donnell. It’s an honor.”

She nodded slightly. “Follow me, Josephine.”

“Joey is fine,” I said, half-regretting my knee-jerk invitation to use the nickname. What the heck was wrong with me? Josephine was the name of a grown woman. Starting physician shadowing meant that I had to grow up.

Except “Josephine” didn’t sound like me. Never had.

“Fine, Joey.” Doctor O’Donnell led me to a spotless office with an antique white writing desk and comfortable, flower-upholstered chairs. “Have a seat, and we’ll talk about expectations.”

I sat down without a word and forced a smile on my face. Something about this office made me feel uncomfortable. Like the deliberately homey design was fake.

“Now, you should know that Philadelphia Children’s is an amazing place for me to do my oncology work and research. I keep clinic hours, doing well-child visits and such, as part of the exchange. It’s not my passion, but you will learn that being a doctor is about doing a lot of things you’re not passionate about.” I must have had some weird look on my face because she continued, “I don’t allow many undergraduates to shadow me, but when I do, I don’t sugarcoat it for them.”

“Okay,” I said, fighting to keep the smile on my face. The words made sense to me, and I knew they were true, but when I was finally a doctor, I’d have more passion about it than that. I couldn’t picture this woman caring for a kitten, let alone humans. But maybe it would get better as the day went on.

“This is shadowing only. That means that you don’t do any procedures. You don’t touch any supplies or patients, and you don’t say a word. Is that understood?”

“Of course.” My voice was nearly a whisper, but I kept the smile on my face and nodded slightly.

For the next four-and-a-half hours, we saw patient after patient, half of them kids under the age of ten with worried or frantic-looking parents. I watched as Doctor O’Donnell told a mother whose child had had an on-and-off fever for five days that it was just the common course for viral infections, there was nothing she could do, and she shouldn’t worry. The woman thanked her but still hugged her baby close and seemed the opposite of relieved.

Another young dad showed us a rash that had snaked from his daughter’s forearm all the way to her back. Doctor O’Donnell took a look, nodded, said, “I’m not worried about it. Apply this cream twice a day — ” She scribbled on her prescription pad. “ — and it should clear up.” The dad looked blindsided as we left the room.

Another mom with tears in her eyes explained that her baby seemed to be favoring one leg while walking for the past couple weeks. Doctor O’Donnell nodded and said, “In these cases, we do have a concern about malignancy. I’m sending you down for an MRI tomorrow morning.”

The mother’s lip trembled. “Will you be performing the procedure?” ’

“Possibly. I’ll have to check my schedule. But I will definitely receive the results since I ordered the test. Do you have any other concerns about…” She flipped through the chart. “Dylan?”

“No,” the woman said softly as we left the room.

I desperately wanted to ask Doctor O’Donnell why she had such an attitude with these patients. She made it clear from the way she spoke and acted that all she saw when she looked at their charts were neurotic parents with no clue what they were doing. But that didn’t change the fact that those patients were people. Crying people, at that. It was tearing my heart out.

“This’ll be the last appointment,” Doctor O’Donnell told me, walking down the hallway at such a fast clip I had to jog to keep up with her.

We moved into a room where a mother was clutching a squirming child to her. She explained that she had found a large area of chipped paint in the corner of their new house, along with crayon marks covering the wall. She was concerned that the little girl had eaten some of the paint since she had been complaining of stomachaches for the past couple days.

Doctor O’Donnell sighed. “Okay. We’ll have to do a lead test. It’s just a finger prick, and then we’ll gather blood in this tube.” She held up a vial that looked humungous compared to the girl’s tiny, pudgy finger.

“It’s too bad you’re not a nursing student, Joey,” Doctor O’Donnell said, glancing at me. “All our nurses are busy, and I hate doing these things. The children always scream.”

I could practically see the mother tense up.

“You’ll have to hold her, Mom,” Doctor O’Donnell said while tearing the top off of an alcohol pad.

“I don’t know how. She’s squirming everywhere, and I don’t want to mess it up…”

I felt so helpless, wanting to help the mom, who was clearly panicking. Just then my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I had an idea. I whipped it out and did a quick video search for cartoons. I cleared my throat and spoke before I could fully think about what I was doing.

“Do you like
SuperGirl Squad
, honey?”

The little girl’s face lit up, and she launched herself off her mother’s lap over to where I stood, practically knocking me down onto the chair and scrambling into my lap. I laughed, and relief swept over her mother’s face.

Doctor O’Donnell shot me an annoyed look, but I nodded my head toward the needle and the vial. She sighed, but the little girl was already settled. I wrapped my hands around each of her forearms, holding her hands still so that Doctor O’Donnell could take the sample. She whimpered at the needle prick and the doctor’s squeezes, but I kept asking her questions about the cartoon to distract her.

It was over before we knew it, and I grabbed a Band-Aid from the counter and wrapped it around the little girl’s finger. She bounded out of my lap and back to her mother, who gave me a grateful smile.

On our way out of the room, I felt good. So proud of myself. The look on that mother’s face and the fact that I had helped the little girl deal with the pain of that test made me feel like I had really made a difference — almost made up for the fact that I ’had been such a lump at all the other patient visits.

Doctor O’Donnell led me back to her office without saying a word.

She sat in her desk chair and started typing on the computer. After a few seconds of the room filling with the loud clacks of her keyboard, I cleared my throat to get her attention. She still stared at the screen, typing like crazy.

I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. I wasn’t someone who took kindly to anyone ignoring me or being rude, which was what was going on here. Just thinking that made my blood start to boil.

However…

This was a doctor. Not just any doctor — Doctor O’Donnell, the renowned pediatric oncologist. If I really wanted to get into med school, shadowing her was as sure a ticket as any. And continuing to shadow her meant I probably shouldn’t be rude, even in response to rudeness.

But the clicking kept going. Finally, after clearing my throat one more time, I spoke up. “Is that all for today, Doctor O’Donnell?”

Slowly, she dropped her hands from the keyboard and turned in her chair to look at me. “Why don’t you tell me, Josephine?”

“I…uh… I’m so sorry, but I’m not sure when you’d like me to come back. I thought I’d come once a week or something…”

“I did, too. But then you ignored my very specific instructions not to touch anything or speak to anyone.”

Her words felt like a punch in the gut. Embarrassment bloomed hot through my body.

She turned back to her computer and continued typing. “I’m finishing up these files for today. Then I’m going to go home and relax. I’ll be able to do that because I didn’t get too emotionally involved with the lives of my patients, who need more time and help than I can give them.”

I stood there, speechless. She knew exactly what I was thinking, and now I was even more embarrassed. My jaw dropped open, then closed again.

I finally managed some words. “I…uh…”

Too late. She was already jumping in again. “I know that you care about people and that’s why you want to be a doctor. But if you really want to apply to med school, I want you to understand what the work is really like. A big part of that is being able to detach. A bigger part of that is being able to follow instructions and learn in any environment. Do you understand?”

I tried to swallow with my suddenly dry throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

I’d hardly ever called anyone ‘“ma’am”‘ in my life, but somehow, it felt very appropriate now.

“Good. Now, I’d like you to do one more thing for me before we’re done.”

“Of course! Anything.” I felt apologetic and outraged all at once. The apologetic half was eager to do anything to stay in Doctor O’Donnell’s good graces.

“I have some intake forms from a couple of the support groups here at the hospital that I promised to get to some families of my oncology patients, but the day got away from me.” She reached back and rubbed her neck in one of the few human moments I’d seen from her. “Will you deliver them to Rowland House on your way back to campus? Most of our patients’ families stay there while their children are under inpatient care.”

“Of course.” I slid the files into my bag.

“Thank you. And please shut the door on your way out. I have some notes to dictate.”

I turned without a word and took three steps to the door. Just as my hand rested on the handle, Doctor O’Donnell’s voice came once more from her desk.

“Josephine? Think carefully about why you’re coming here. Don’t come back unless you can do as I say. Are we clear?”

I hung my head, and my fist clenched around the strap of my bag. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

With that, I left the office, more unsure than ever about what would happen the next week — and especially with the rest of my life.

Chapter 4

Rowland
House was on my way home, right in the heart of University City. Most of the ’family hospitality houses I’d seen on commercials or in movies looked like hotels or extensions of the hospital — new and shiny, pristine inside. This building fit right in with Old Philadelphia — stone walls and arches, rooftop spaces with columned borders, complete with a lush green garden where most of them would have had a round driveway or parking lot.

I smiled as I wondered if the kids who stayed there told stories about it being haunted. As it got dark and the craggy outlines of the walls cast shadows on the walkways below, it sure fit the part.

Even the front door, made out of heavy wood with stained-glass window work, looked old and creepy in the dark. Combined with the howling January wind, it sent a chill down my spine. I rang the bell, and a crackling voice came over the speaker outside the door.

“Rowland House.”

“Yes, I have some paperwork here from Children’s?”

“Oh, from Doctor O’Donnell?”

“Yes.” Thank God they were expecting me. I didn’t think I could talk about O’Donnell without losing it.

“I’ll be right there.”

Half a minute later, a middle-aged lady in a Children’s Hospital sweatshirt opened the door. “Hi, welcome to Rowland House. I’m Sherri.” She reached out and shook my hand as she continued, “Wow, this wind is serious, huh? Come in — we’ll get you a cup of tea.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, rubbing my arms and shivering.

We passed down a narrow hallway covered in cheap office carpet, and then the whole house opened up. The office carpet remained, but there were comfy couches, a kitchen area tucked behind a half-wall in the corner, one wall painted with a huge tree mural, and another reserved just for children’s drawings.

On one of the couches, a woman sat with her face buried in her hands. Her whole body shook as she sniffled and blew her nose, piling the tissues up beside her.

“The files you brought are for her,” Sherri whispered. “Her little one was admitted yesterday. She’s having a tough time.”

“Is there a support group for her or something?”

“Formally, yes, at the hospital during the day. Informally, the other parents usually help. They’ll be along, but visiting hours haven’t really ended yet over at Children’s.”

I dug the files out of my bag and handed them to Sherri. I couldn’t drag my gaze away from the woman on the couch. My eyes filled with tears. “Okay if I hang out?”

“She might like that.” Sherri gave me a soft smile, then turned and walked back to her office.

As I approached the woman, my heart swelled. I sat down gently next to her, and she gave me one look, burst into tears again, and scrambled to pick up the tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“Do you have a kid here?” she asked as she looked at me with red, wet eyes.

I shook my head. “No, but I’ve been where you are. Kind of. Ten years ago, my dad had cancer. The first days are really hard.”

“My daughter Rachel just got diagnosed last week. Leukemia. They put her central line in yesterday and started chemo today.” She hiccupped through her tears. “I can still hear her screaming from when they put the line in. But I’d trade that for what she was like today. So tired. So still.”

I nodded. “The first couple days on chemo can be really bad. I remember being so scared. I thought he’d never move again.” I swallowed a lump in my throat as my own eyes filled with tears again.

She raised her eyes to mine, round and expectant. “But it got better?”

“Ah…” I fumbled for the right thing to say. I remembered how, with Dad, it did get better — until it got worse again. Then better, then way worse, and then the doctor came in to have the “six months to a year” talk with us.

But she definitely didn’t need to hear that.

Something incredible happened as I started to talk to her, though. My voice grew surer and steadier. I told her how we discovered that my dad was only hungry for Italian ice and mac and cheese, and we tried recipe after recipe until we found one that he loved. I told her about how he promised us he’d walk one lap around the floor for every good test grade we got. I told her about how cancer sucked, but those weeks I spent sitting by his side in the hospital were the most one-on-one time I’d ever gotten with him. When I ended, tears were streaming down my cheeks. I looked into her eyes and said, “She knows you love her. The pain of the central line and the chemo sickness will pass, but she’ll always know you love her.”

“Thank you.” The woman blew her nose one more time. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Theresa.”

I squeezed her hand. “Theresa, it’s gonna get better. And it’s been a pleasure talking to you.”

“You, too.”

“I’ve gotta run,” I said, cringing at the sheer volume of Orgo homework I knew lurked back in my room.

“But you’ll be back, right?” Her eyes flashed down to the Children’s Hospital badge still pinned to my clothing. Oh. She thought I was assigned to come here or that I worked here or…

The look in her eyes forbid me from saying anything other than what came out of my mouth next. “Of course I will. Of course.”

I knew two things: I had next-to-no time to be hanging out at Rowland House and sitting here with Theresa was the most fulfilling thing I’d done with myself all year.

I ducked into the bathroom to check my face on the way out — a total disaster, so much so that I pulled up my hood and wrapped my scarf around the bottom half of it just so I wouldn’t draw any attention to myself on the bus ride home.

I pushed out the door and sucked in a breath, turning my face down against the brutally whipping wind. My feet flashed over the flagstone walkway as I hurried to the covered bus stop a block away.

I was two feet from the main sidewalk when I smacked face-first into someone — a six-foot-tall, solid figure of lean muscle — pulling a dolly behind him. I rubbed my shoulder and stammered an apology, but he was tending to what the collision had knocked off the dolly. Ten huge, heavy-duty aluminum foil pans stacked inside large cardboard boxes had fallen onto the sidewalk behind him. Thank goodness they were quickly and easily tipped back upright, and there were no traumatic spills of whatever food was inside.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Let me help you,”

“No, it’s okay.” A casual gruff laugh came from the guy, who’d already picked up two of three of the boxes and situated them back on the dolly. I felt like I’d heard that voice before, but it could really have been anyone with the howling of this wind.

–That is, until I got close enough to see the skin between the guy’s gray knit hat and the collar of his jacket when he bent down. There were three tendrils of black ink on the back of his neck just like I’d seen on —

“Hawk!” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He stood up, turning his head slowly and peering at me.

“I’m sorry — do I…”

I yanked my scarf down to uncover the lower half of my face. “Joey.”

He narrowed his eyes and peered at me harder. It was only then that I remembered exactly how awkward our introduction had been. I sighed and pointed to myself. “Josephine? From business class?”

Realization flooded his face. Those same icy blue eyes that had shocked me when I first saw him widened slightly with recognition — and completely took my breath away. His mouth dropped open, but before he could say anything, I blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

He pushed out a half-laugh. “Uh…food. For the House.”

My brow wrinkled in confusion.

“I work at a little place in the City. We bring whatever lunch bar food we can’t sell for an early dinner for these folks.” He gave a slight smile, and his eyes ’sparkled.

Damn. This guy was totally gorgeous. “Wow. That’s…”

“Yeah, and I’ve gotta get it in there before this food turns into chunks of ice. Tomorrow?”

“Uh…what?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. For our project?”

When he said “project,” it was like a switch had flipped, like the magical, cold-repelling bubble containing his muscles and breathtaking eyes had burst.

“Right. Tomorrow. Library. Great.” A rude — albeit hot — guy and a group project for a class I didn’t want to be taking. Pretty much the opposite of ‘great.’ “Uh…do you need help with that?” It was freezing, but I’d been raised to always go out of my way to help people.

Hawk snorted and gave me a once-over again. “You’re smaller than the dolly.” Then he brushed past me without another word, nearly knocking me off my feet. Smelling like cologne and warmth.

Not cigarette smoke.

My heart jumped, but I tamped it back down. What the heck was wrong with me? I yanked my scarf back up over my face, but my cheeks burned and I stared at my feet again.

Before I knew it, I was standing at the front door to the sorority house, key in hand. I’d completely forgotten to take the bus.