My phone buzzed once again while I was waiting to be taken in to see Erica Cates, Gina’s mother. It was Jonah again. He’d called several times during my walk to Valleycrest Hospital, but I hadn’t picked up. I sighed. Sooner or later I’d have to deal with Jonah Steel, but right now, all I could think about was Gina’s mother, here in the mental wing of Valleycrest. I wasn’t sure coming to see her was a good idea, but I had to know that she was okay. That she would live.
I had privileges at Valleycrest, so I figured it wouldn’t be any problem to get in to see Mrs. Cates. Because of the nature of the situation, though, I had to jump through a few hoops. Dr. Cates had said his wife had been repeating my name, or what he thought was my name. Did that mean she wanted to see me, or did it mean something else?
One of my favorite nurses, Beth, walked toward me. “Dr. Carmichael, she does agree to see you, but I need to stay with you while you visit with her.”
“That’s fine, Beth. I understand. I really just want to make sure she’s all right.”
My words sounded foolish. Of course she wasn’t all right. She’d tried to end her life, and she had lost her only daughter less than a year before. How the hell was she supposed to be all right?
“Her life hasn’t been in danger,” Beth said.
“I’m thankful for that. Who is the doctor working with her?”
“Dr. Bennett.”
Miles Bennett was a decent physician, but his bedside manner wasn’t the best. I’d always wondered why he chose psychiatry as a specialty. In psychiatry, a doctor who didn’t have a good bedside manner usually didn’t get very far. Miles worked exclusively with hospitalized psychiatric patients instead of taking patients for psychotherapy as I did. Rarely had I had to hospitalize any of my patients, though there had been a few over the years. I was familiar with the mental health staff here at Valleycrest.
“When was the last time Dr. Bennett was in to see Mrs. Cates?” I asked.
“This morning, during rounds.”
Beth led me into a private room. A dark-haired woman, brown eyes sad and sunken, lay on the bed, her head propped up with several pillows.
“Mrs. Cates?” Beth said. “This is Dr. Carmichael.”
“Hello, Mrs. Cates,” I said.
The woman did not turn toward me. “Hello,” she replied.
“Thank you for allowing me to see you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I sat down in the chair next to her bed. “I understand you’re seeing Dr. Bennett. He’s excellent.”
This time she turned toward me. “What would you know about excellent? You couldn’t save my daughter.”
A dagger sliced into my gut. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Dr. Bennett is a very good doctor,” Beth said, “and so is Dr. Carmichael.”
I appreciated Beth’s confidence in me, but I wasn’t sure now was the right time for her to voice it.
“Mrs. Cates, I’m so very sorry about what happened to Gina.”
“Not sorry enough.”
What could I say to that? She had experienced an unbearable loss, and in her mind, I was to blame. She could never know how sorry I was. She had refused to take my call after Gina’s death, and after that, I’d sought advice from an attorney. He advised me not to communicate with Gina’s parents. If I hadn’t called the other night, would Mrs. Cates be lying here now? Had my calling brought her pain back somehow? God, that call had been a mistake. It had been pure self-indulgence, only to ease my own guilt. I’d berated myself over and over again since then. I knew better, and I hadn’t given a thought to how it might affect Gina’s parents. Ironically, it hadn’t done a thing for my guilt anyway.
Tears emerged in the corner of my eyes. Hold it together, Melanie. You can’t cry in front of this woman. I inhaled and stood. “I’ll leave you to get your rest now, Mrs. Cates. Thank you for seeing me. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I turned and walked out. Beth’s soft padded footsteps followed me.
“Dr. Carmichael,” Beth said, “I want you to know that none of us here on staff think any of this is your fault.”
I wiped my eyes. “I know that. Thank you.”
“Dr. Bennett doesn’t think it’s your fault either.”
“I appreciate that, Beth. I really do. However, I feel like complete shit.”
She nodded. “It’s never easy to lose a patient. I’ve lost my share of them.”
I was sure she had, but it was different for a nurse. Granted, nurses cared for patients on a daily basis and sometimes got to know them as well or better than their physicians did. But it wasn’t the nurse who was charged with primary care. It wasn’t the same thing at all.
“I know.” I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t tell her that I thought it was different for her, even though I knew nurses felt the loss of a patient deeply. Maybe it wasn’t so different. “Thanks for getting me in to see her. Please take good care of her.”