Danit was not wrong that I would find my new charge’s outlook a bit challenging.
Her name is Hannah Valdez. She is thirty years old and is nearing the end of her medical residency in Baltimore. She is tall, dark, and utterly charming, with a charismatic manner and a wistful smile. And she looks at the world as if she is standing in a shadow at all times.
I found her just as she was leaving her shift with a friend, both of them worn from the long hours. “Two more years,” John sighed. “I tell you, Hannah, one of these days they’re going to find me slumped across one of those beds.”
“Will the bed be occupied at the time?” Hannah asked, managing a smile. “A bit distressing for the patient if so.”
Ignoring the jibe, John went on, “They’ll put on my headstone, ‘Here lies a man who attempted plastic surgery, may God rest his soul.’”
“Oh, trust me, God has nothing to do with this program,” Hannah sighed.
This surprised me, but I continued to trail after them. I could see the weariness weighing heavily on both of them, but it seemed to affect them differently. John did most of the talking, discussing some of the patients and the physicians who had charge of them, all of whom seemed to be in foul moods today.
“Like always,” Hannah said. “Why did I choose to go into a field where I’m required to work in an environment where everyone is stressed and upset all the time?”
“Because you’re damn good at it, that’s why,” John answered. He shook his head. “You’re the one who spotted the discrepancy in that chart earlier today. Dr. Lombard is lucky to have you on his team.”
Hannah only smiled at the praise—it was a polite expression, showing no real pleasure. It is only a first impression, but I think while she takes pride in her work and does it well, she does not enjoy it. But why put so much energy and time into a career that does not bring her joy?
I thought at first it was just her mood that affected the way she looked at things, but it did not seem to be the case. John’s spirits lifted as they went along, and eventually he invited Hannah to join him and his partner for drinks. She declined politely, and so they went their separate ways. Hannah made her way home, and as she did she eyed other people with suspicion or cynicism, thought dolefully about how unlikely it was that she would get her house cleaned that evening, and never once looked up from the ground.
I can see no sign of depression in her spirit, and she has no malice in her, that I am sure of. It simply seems to be her nature to see darkness wherever she looks. Which, perhaps, is more accurate than it is not, but surely there is great beauty in the world, as well? Perhaps, then, my task is to bring her to someone who can see it.
When she was finally home, curled up on her sofa with a book and a steaming cup of herbal tea, I leaned down and kissed her. “I am happy to meet you, Hannah,” I whispered to her. “And I hope I can teach you happiness, too.”