When Paige heard the news, she went to see Mitch Campbell. He was sitting in an office, resting. His hands were on the desk when Paige walked in, and she could see the tremor in them.
Campbell quickly moved his hands to his lap. "Hello, Paige. How're you doing?"
"Fine, Mitch. I wanted to talk to you."
"Sit down."
She took a seat opposite him. "How long have you had Parkinson's?"
He turned a shade whiter. "What?"
"That's it, isn't it? You've been trying to cover it up."
There was a heavy silence. "I . . . I . . . yes. But I ... I can't give up being a doctor. I ... I just can't give it up. It's my whole life."
Paige leaned forward and said earnestly, "You don't have to give up being a doctor, but you shouldn't be operating."
He looked suddenly old. "I know. I was going to quit last year." He smiled wanly. "I guess I'll have to quit now, won't I? You're going to tell Dr. Wallace."
"No," Paige said gently. "You're going to tell Dr. Wallace."
Paige was having lunch in the cafeteria when Tom Chang joined her.
"I heard what happened," he said. "Bowman! Unbelievable. Nice work."
She shook her head. "I almost had the wrong man."
Chang sat there, silent.
"Are you all right, Tom?"
"Do you want the 'I'm fine,' or do you want the truth?"
"We're friends. I want the truth."
"My marriage has gone to hell." His eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Sye has left. She's gone back home."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's not her fault. We didn't have a marriage anymore. She said I'm married to the hospital, and she's right. I'm spending my whole life here, taking care of strangers, instead of being with the people I love."
"She'll come back. It will work out," Paige said soothingly.
"No. Not this time."
"Have you thought about counseling, or . . .?"
"She refuses."
"I'm sorry, Tom. If there's anything I ..." She heard her name on the loudspeaker.
"Dr. Taylor, Room 410 ..."
Paige felt a sudden pang of alarm. "I have to go," she said. Room 410. That was Sam Bernstein's room. He was one of her favorite patients, a gentle man in his seventies who had been brought in with inoperable stomach cancer. Many of the patients at the hospital were constantly complaining, but Sam Bernstein was an exception. Paige admired his courage and his dignity. He had a wife and two grown sons who visited him regularly, and Paige had grown fond of them, too.
He had been put on life-support systems with a note, DNR—Do Not Resuscitate—if his heart stopped.
When Paige walked into his room, a nurse was at the bedside. She looked up as Paige entered. "He's gone, doctor. I didn't start emergency procedures, because ..." Her voice trailed off.
"You were right not to," Paige said slowly. "Thank you."
"Is there anything I . . .?"
"No. I'll make the arrangements." Paige stood by the bedside and looked down at the body of what had been a living, laughing human being, a man who had a family and friends, someone who had spent his life working hard, taking care of the ones he loved. And now . . .
She walked over to the drawer where he kept his possessions. There was an inexpensive watch, a set of keys, fifteen dollars in cash, dentures, and a letter to his wife. All that remained of a man's life.
Paige was unable to shake the feeling of depression that hung over her. "He was such a dear man. Why . . .?"
Kat said, "Paige, you can't let yourself get emotionally involved with your patients. It will tear you apart."
"I know. You're right, Kat. It's just that . . . it's over so quickly, isn't it? This morning he and I were talking. Tomorrow is his funeral."
"You're not thinking of going to it?"
"No."
The funeral took place at the Hills of Eternity Cemetery.
In the Jewish religion, burial must take place as soon as possible following the death, and the service usually takes place the next day.
The body of Sam Bernstein was dressed in a takhrik-him, a white robe, and wrapped in a talit. The family was gathered around the graveside. The rabbi was intoning, "Hamakom y'nathaim etkhem b'tokh sh'ar availai tziyon veeyerushalayim.''
A man standing next to Paige saw the puzzled expression on her face, and he translated for her. " 'May the Lord comfort you with all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.' "
To Paige's astonishment, the members of the family began tearing at the clothes they were wearing as they chanted, "Baruch ata adonai elohainu me lech haolam dayan ha-emet."
"What . . .?"
"That's to show respect," the man whispered.
"From dust you are and to dust you have returned, but the spirit returns to God who gave it." The ceremony was over.
The following morning, Kat ran into Honey in the corridor. Honey looked nervous.
"Anything wrong?" Kat asked.
"Dr. Wallace sent for me. He asked me to be in his office at two o'clock."
"Do you know why?"
"I think I messed up at rounds the other day. Dr. Ritter is a monster."
"He can be," Kat said. "But I'm sure everything will be all right."
"I hope so. I just have a bad feeling."
Promptly at two o'clock, she arrived at Benjamin Wallace's office, carrying a small jar of honey in her purse. The receptionist was at lunch. Dr. Wallace's door was open. "Come in, Dr. Taft," he called.
Honey walked into his office.