“What would the position consist of?” Returning the documents to him, I lean back in my chair. I am unsure about this step. More than just about the decision to stay, I worry about working with people. All my assignments before have been me, alone, behind the camera.
“Working with patients, teaching them about photography. Our first focus will be on Pediatrics. Children may benefit the most from it right now. Usually they haven’t had much exposure to cameras, prints, the entire process of photo-taking. We hope it will open another world to them in a very simple way.”
That’s the beauty of photography. One picture, taken a thousand miles away, can make viewers feel as though they are standing in the same place. Their imaginations can take them on a journey without ever leaving their house. A collage of photographs can create a whole new experience, and allow people to enter places they couldn’t have imagined going. I have never underestimated the power of a picture.
“Your agent mentioned that your father is currently a patient here. I took the liberty of finding him and learning who the attending doctor is.”
“Dr. David Ford,” we both say at the same time.
“David is one of our best,” he says.
“So we’ve been told.”
“He’s also on the board of directors. When I told him you were interested in the position and would be coming in today, he was understandably thrilled. Asked if he could give you the tour himself.”
There’s a knock on the door just as he finishes speaking. David pops his head in, smiling at the sight of me. “Sonya, wonderful to see you again.”
I stand automatically to return his greeting. “Pleasure to see you again, Doctor.”
“I thought we agreed on David.” He turns his gaze toward Sean, a perfect professional. “Sean, the hospital owes you one. If we can hire Sonya, we would look pretty brilliant.”
“I may not be the best fit for the job,” I warn David as we walk alongside one another down the hall. Doctors and nurses pass us, each one offering a greeting. He is well liked, respected by his peers. “This was just an exploratory meeting.” He pushes the “Up” button when we reach the elevators. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“Wait and see.”
He is playing and enjoying it. His happiness is infectious. Caught up in his excitement, we take the elevator up two floors. Stepping out, I am overwhelmed with the colors. Walls covered with every shade of the rainbow. Murals of balloons, zoo animals, every creature imaginable painted with precision. Large enough to catch a child’s eye and offer them comfort.
“Whoa!” David grabs my wrist and pulls me back as two young boys go screeching past. Embroiled in a fight to see who pushes the elevator button first, they barely notice us.
“Sorry.” Their mother runs after them, a blur of blond hair pulled into a ponytail, jeans, and a sweatshirt. “You would think after giving blood they would be a little tired.”
“Not a problem.” The fraternal twins continue their battle, pushing one another in their mission to get into the elevator first. “Don’t forget your mom, boys,” David says.
When they dutifully hold open the door, their mother gives David a grateful smile. As the doors close, I turn toward him. “Pediatrics, I assume?”
“One of the floors. This one is primarily oncology.”