Shirley Hailstock - Healing The Doctor's Heart

He’d retreated to the home gym, but only stood in the room looking at the long wall of mirrors. His grandmother had them installed when his mother was young and wanted to be a dancer. She’d studied for years, but eventually gave up the idea for nursing. The mirrors were still there as a reminder. Jake had the exercise equipment installed when he started working. With such long hours at the hospital, he had little time to travel back and forth to a gym.

He surveyed the room. Everything a modern gym could offer was available to him here. The problem he had was that with only one hand, most of the equipment was little more than giant dust collectors.

The door opened and Lauren stepped in.

“Yes?” he asked. This was the one place in the apartment that she had not yet invaded.

“I wondered if you’d mind if I used the equipment here sometimes?”

“The apartment is yours. With the exception of my rooms, you may use any room you like.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly and started to back out.

“Lauren,” he called.

She looked up. The sun hit her hair again and images of her on the stairs came to him. He felt bad that he’d treated her unkindly. He wasn’t that sort of man, at least he hadn’t been before the accident. She was here to help him, keep him from being alone. It was unfair that he treated her like an unwelcome guest. The truth was, he enjoyed having someone around to talk to. He hadn’t known that until she came, and he was surprised she hadn’t run away screaming after the way he behaved.

“Isn’t it time for our walk?” he asked.

AND SO THEIR routine began. Except for their daily walks in the park, it was mainly an indoor routine. Lauren looked after everything that required two hands, kept his schedule and sorted his mail. A personal trainer came daily to help Jake exercise in the gym. The housekeeper did the cleaning and oversaw the food deliveries and preparation of meals.

Jake got himself up, showered and dressed. She didn’t know how he put his clothes on without help, but he always appeared in his doorway fully dressed and buttoned. She’d volunteered once to tie his sneakers since she noticed the laces were undone. He allowed it, but she felt his discomfort.

“What’s it like being a kindergarten teacher?” he asked out of the blue one day as she was massaging his arm. He hadn’t asked her to do it, but she’d learned the signs of his pain. Without saying anything, she just began to soothe the aches he felt. At first, he jumped at her touch, but eventually her contact didn’t draw that reaction.

“A kindergarten teacher,” she said. This was a question she was prepared for. She was a pediatrician and her clientele was primarily under the age of sixteen. She knew how children acted, both when they felt good and when they were ill.

One of Lauren’s sisters owned a day care center that also operated a preschool. Kindergarten was the last class for the kids before they began regular school. “It’s fun most days. The kids are loud, unruly and eager when they first arrive. Many of them have been to nursery school, so they come knowing a lot. They have to test me as a teacher.”

“You should see the look on your face,” he said.

Lauren immediately altered her expression. She didn’t want to give anything away.

“You obviously like being a teacher. I guess you’re planning to do the same thing when you leave here.”

“I am,” she said, although she felt her guard come up. “What’s it like being a surgeon?”

She felt him stiffen, knowing that would be his response.

“Did you always want to go into medicine?”

Lauren stopped massaging his arm. She ran her hand down the length of it, using a nonverbal signal that she was done. She could tell his discomfort had lessened. Moving around him, she sat on a sofa opposite him. Jake looked her directly in the eye. He had a piercing look when he was angry, but that wasn’t the expression she saw now.

“Like most kids, I went through a series of professions I wanted to do when I grew up.”

Lauren smiled, remembering her own choices. “What were they?”

“Fireman, pilot, truck driver.”

“Truck driver?” she laughed.

He smiled. Lauren liked seeing that smile. Lately, she was seeing it more and more. She wondered if it was her presence that brought it out or if he was coming to terms with his injury.

“Did you ever drive a truck?” she asked.

“Once. I was seventeen. At that age, remember, you can do anything.”

Lauren didn’t acknowledge that.

“I backed it into the side of a building,” Jake said. “And there went that career.”

Both of them laughed.

“After that I knew I never wanted to do that again. I finished high school and college and went to med school.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“Nothing life altering, although I did meet other med students who were there because they’d lost a loved one and had a calling,” he said.

“So, how was it for you?”

He took a moment before answering. “I’d graduated from college and had a job working in economic forecasting. I was bored to death, and during lunch I walked by the med school and went in. I sat down in one of the lecture halls and was so engrossed in the study that I stayed until the class ended and talked to the professor.”

“He convinced you to enroll?”

Jake shook his head. “I convinced myself. I felt like this was where I was supposed to be.”

Lauren watched him closely. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were focused somewhere over her shoulder, back in the past to that lecture hall and the man explaining medical procedures.

“I wanted to be that person. I wanted to know how everything worked and how to fix it if it didn’t work properly.”

“So you did have a calling,” she stated.

This time Jake’s eyes focused on her. “I had a calling,” he said. The surprise in his voice told her the revelation had just come to him.

A moment later, all the progress they’d made in getting Jake to open up was ripped away. Jake glanced down at his arm, then abruptly got up and without a word left the room. Lauren had never been a companion and didn’t really know what her patient needed. Not her patient, she corrected herself. She thought they were moving forward. He was talking more, accepting her company and even taking the initiative to join her at times.

Yet when he sank into depression over his arm, she was clueless what to do. She’d made suggestions, but he hadn’t taken any of them.

Getting up, she followed him into the kitchen. He appeared to be making coffee.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked.

“I’m perfectly capable of making my own coffee,” he snapped.

Lauren nearly jumped at the force of his words. “I’m not the enemy,” she said, just as emphatically.

He whipped around. Instinctively, she stepped back. He stared at her for a second, then his shoulders dropped and the fight went out of him.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

She went to the cabinet where he stood and took down the mug he liked to use. Setting it on the counter, she stepped back and spoke softly. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling. I’ve never lost the use of any body part. In sports and dancing, my body does what I tell it, adheres to my commands.”

“I can’t explain it,” Jake said.

She didn’t expect him to. Lauren watched as he filled the carafe with water and poured it into the coffeemaker. After placing the carafe in the machine and the prepackaged pod in the designed pocket, he closed the lid and hit the brew button. The entire operation was efficiently orchestrated, as if he’d done it all his life.