Defensiveness boils up in me from a dark well.
“You don’t know what you talking about,” I hiss. “Didi has been through a lot. She’s not an alcoholic. I would know.”
Desi raises her eyebrows accusingly. “Yeah, you should know,” she snaps. “Maybe you should think about it, okay? Maybe you do know, but you don’t want to say. Maybe you don’t want to admit it to yourself.”
“You guys, let’s just stop,” Hannah suggests unhelpfully.
“Yeah, I’m totally ready to stop,” I announce, snatching the packages off the table.
“Maybe you should start paying attention!” Desi yells after me as I head back into the gallery, fuming.
Pay attention? I marvel silently. Is she kidding me? I’ve spent most of my life paying attention to Didi.
Chapter 17
Sturgill
On the table in front of me is a little girl, about three years old, sedated into painlessness. Two hours ago, she couldn’t breathe through her nose, and she is underweight because she hasn’t been able to feed normally for her entire life.
All of that is about to change.
As I carefully complete the final stitches that draw the top of her lip together, I think about the smile she will have now. Her nose is straightened; the glaring void over her baby teeth has been closed.
It will take some months before the incision has completely healed and before the scars begin to fade, but in a week she will be able to eat normally. In three weeks, she will begin to gain weight. In six months, she’ll be laughing and smiling like any child.
It’s hard to overstate how life-changing this surgery is. Aside from the medical benefits of closing the palate deformity, there are social benefits too. She’ll be able to find a partner, have a family like anyone else. She will be able to get a job and support her family or herself.
With the last bit of black silk, I close the incision, marveling at the tiny angel face in front of me. She couldn’t have known how her life would change. She is a very lucky little girl.
“Beautiful work, doctor,” the nurse says from behind her blue surgical mask.
Her dark eyes look up at me fondly. Anita is a local professional, and the surgeries affect her personally.
“I think we are done here,” I finally announce, dropping the suture scissors onto the stainless steel tray.
Nurses hover over the infant, wiping away the disinfectant and bits of blood from her skin before they will transport her to the recovery room.
It has been a long day. That was my fifth surgery today and my back is aching. When I exit the surgical suite, I can see that the sun is already going down.
“You finished up?” Arthur asks, bursting from the suite next to me and pulling his mask off with a tired smile.
“For now,” I shrug.
Arthur stretches his arms over his head, twisting his fingers together.
“Mary says she’s holding the table for us at the cantina,” he says. “Let’s go get some chow.”
“Right behind you,” I smile.
Luckily, this time Arthur set up his charity event near the beach and adjacent to some of the best
seafood restaurants I’ve ever been to. Totally rustic, basically a roof with long picnic tables underneath it and a couple of open fires on one side, the freshness of the seafood and talent of the chefs make a world of difference. It really is like a tropical vacation, with just a little bit of medical magic interspersed.
Changing into my street clothes in the small locker room, I head out feeling better than I have in a while. I know that we are doing good work here, work that will have a lasting effect. Sometimes in Willowdale I get somewhat frustrated that I am only able to make small changes. Don’t get me wrong; it’s very gratifying to be responsible for the health of an entire town, but I rarely get to change a life like this.
“Are you getting something to eat?” Anita asks me, joining me in the hallway as we exit the medical building.
“Yeah, Arthur and Mary should already be there,” I answer, glancing at her only briefly.