An Evergreen Christmas (11 page)

“Hello, ladies,” Holly said with an extra lilt.

“Good morning, Dr. Green,” they recited like schoolgirls.

She pointed at one of them. “I believe you’re in the O.R. with me today.” She gave the young nurse a wide smile. “See you there.”

Holly watched with amusement as the nurses scampered from the locker room, whispering and nudging one another.

Some things never change
.

Holly donned her floral surgical cap and her blue booties. Her shoulders pushed back, she strode to her own personal arena, her O.R.

The patient, a woman in her fifties who unlike her patient from the other day had a biopsy positive for breast cancer. Her scar from the lumpectomy Holly had performed on her last month had healed but the woman’s spirits hadn’t. Holly patted her patient’s hand as the anesthesiologist put her patient to sleep. The port placement would be simple. Chemotherapy during Christmas wouldn’t. Holly sent her residents and students to the emergency department for duties for the rest of the day.

The case going smoothly, Holly couldn’t resist sending the circulating nurse, Nurse “Gossip” out of the room to fetch suture she didn’t need. Holly’s eyes crinkled up, her smile hidden beneath her mask, at the nurse’s flight from the O.R., obeying her trumped up requests.

Holly’s longtime scrub tech, winked at her. “You are so bad!”

Holly shrugged. “Who knows? I just might need that suture.”

The scrub tech nodded. “Right.”

Even the anesthesiologist chuckled.

The befuddled nurse ran back into the O.R., the suture package in her hand. About to pop it open onto the surgical field, Holly tilted her and said, “Thanks so much. Looks like I won’t need that suture. I’m already closing.”

The nurse narrowed her eyes. Holly swore she heard her hiss behind her mask. “I’ll put it back,” she said curtly and strode from Holly’s O.R., smacking the metal O.R. door on her way out.

“Gee. I wonder what’s wrong with her?” Holly asked with a gloat in her tone.

The anesthesiologist leaned back in his chair, stifling a laugh. “I don’t know.”

Holly waited for her patient to rouse in the recovery room before leaving, reassuring her that her surgery went well and that she could go home later that day to spend the holidays with her family, returning for out patient chemotherapy the day after Christmas. The concession at least made the woman smile. Now off to Mrs. Shale.

***

Mrs. Shale stood looking out the window, clutching her black purse when Holly entered her room.

“Are you ready to go?” Holly asked.

Mrs. Shale turned to face her. "Yes, dear." She walked over to her bed and grabbed the white plastic drawstring bag with the Granite State Medical Center logo on the front of it. Holly knew the bag contained the usual hospital soap, shampoo, comb, and a box of tissues. “I don't want to be a bother.”

Holly shook her head. “You're not, and you won't. Do you have your spirometer?”

Mrs. Shale smiled and tapped her bag. “Have it right here.”

Holly waved her arm towards the door. “After you.”

A male hospital volunteer, about Mrs. Shale's age, dressed in a navy vest sporting the same hospital logo and black trousers stood at the doorway with a wheelchair. Mrs. Shale glanced at Holly.

“Hospital policy,” Holly said.

The silver haired man with a neatly trimmed mustache held out his hand to Mrs. Shale. “Please, have a seat.” He winked at her. “Don't worry. I'm a safe driver. No accidents yet!”

“Well, uh, okay,” she said.

Mrs. Shale scooted into the wheelchair, her purse and bag on her lap while the volunteer adjusted the footrests, gingerly placing her feet onto them.

“My name is Charley...Charley Donahue,” he said.

“Maureen Shale.”

“Ah, a hearty Irish name.”

Holly smiled watching Mrs. Shale blush.

“Born O'Malley,” she said.

"O'Malley don't you say. I went to St. Catherine's High School with some O' Malleys."

Mrs. Shale tapped the wheelchair's armrests. "I went to St. Catherine's High!"

Charley leaned over and gazed at Mrs. Shale. “I thought you looked familiar. Maureen O’Malley! Of course! I sat next to you in Sister Clara’s mathematics class.”

Mrs. Shale squinted at him. “Charley?”

“The same ole kid with the cow lick,” he said.

She squeezed his hand. “Oh my gosh.” Mrs. Shale glanced at Holly. “Can you believe this coincidence?”

Holly shot her hands to her hips and smiled. “As my Aunt Mae would say, Kismet!”

The wheels of wheelchair spun in an even rhythm, not too slow, not too fast, as Charley chauffeured Mrs. Shale into the hospital lobby.

Noel jogged into the lobby, the back of his white lab coat wafting behind him. “I hope you two haven’t been waiting long.”

“Nope. You’re right on time,” Holly said.

Noel glanced at Charley’s nametag. “Hello. I’m Dr. Noel Shepherd, new surgeon here at Granite State. It’s nice to meet you…Charley Donahue.”

“Likewise,” Charley said. “And if ever need anything done or any patient services, I’m your man.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll get my car and swing around to the front,” Holly said. She took Noel’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks so much for covering my team and my patients. The woman whom I inserted a port this morning should be going home. No one is critical in the house. Oh, how’s Ashley’s brother doing?”

Noel cradled her hand. “He’s out of ICU and stable.”

“I’m so glad.” She wanted to kiss him but this was hardly the appropriate time. She’d wait until tonight. “I’ll get Mrs. Shale settled in and I’ll be back in time for Grand Rounds. Save me a seat.”

“Absolutely. Go. Don’t worry. I’ve got everything covered, especially reserving a seat for you next to me in the auditorium.”

He let her hand loose, their fingers slowly sliding apart.

Noel breathed life into her. She half ran and half skipped to the doctor’s parking garage, not caring who saw her. Noel’s humming of Oh Tannenbaum from the other night still in her head, Holly hummed a verse while pulling up to the hospital’s main entrance. Cutting the engine, she jumped out and helped Mrs. Shale into the front seat. Charley made sure she was securely fastened inside. Holly caught him slipping Mrs. Shale a note that she promptly pocketed into her purse. They waved to each other as Holly started the car and drove away.

***

After giving Mrs. Shale a tour of her home, Holly led her to her room. Mrs. Shale sat on the mahogany sleigh bed and hugged her purse. What a coincidence that she and Charley sat next to one another in high school only to meet decades later! Kismet as Aunt Mae would say. These two were meant to cross paths. Sure that Charley snuck Mrs. Shale his number, Holly pointed out the telephone on the nightstand, twice,
just in case
.

While placing Mrs. Shale’s belongings into a dresser drawer, Holly paused, her eyes wide open as the front door creaked open and then groaned closed. Her father never got around to lubricating the hinges. Now it reminded Holly of her dad when he returned from work every evening and the countless times she and he bolted in and out of that door during their Saturday outings, giggling about his procrastination despite her mother’s rattling of her honey do list as a constant reminder. Then her mother would throw her hands into the air and end up laughing with them. Her dad swore he’d get around to it after that Christmas. The door never got fixed. She wouldn’t do it now. She just couldn’t.

“I’m here,” Aunt Mae called.

“We’re in the blue room,” Holly called back.

With its crème sateen Victorian wallpaper, eggshell white drapes, and patchwork quilt framed with red roses, nothing in that room related to any shade of blue. Her mother christened it the blue room while standing in front of the window, one day, gazing at the azure sky wrapping around the mountains. She said it simply came to her. Holly would catch her after coming home from school, leaning toward the window, palms splayed upon the sill, still in meditation, deep inhalations through her nose, long exhalations through her lips. She’d let her be, intrigued by her mother’s peaceful repose. In the spring, her mother would open the window, basking in wafts of lilacs seeping into the room. As busy as her life was as a surgeon, Holly always opened the window in the blue room every spring letting the sweet scent of lilac soothe her, her mother’s presence palpable at her side.

Aunt Mae poked her head around the doorframe. “Hello.”

Holly sighed and smiled at her aunt’s boisterous salutation. She hated to bolt off to the hospital so soon after bringing Mrs. Shale to her home but she had to get back to grand rounds. Noel was going to present his young patient with Crohn’s disease, his surgery, and his complicated post-operative course. Holly had to be there. Having assisted Noel in that case, she needed to be there to support his actions and to support him. Her aunt and Mrs. Shale contemporaries, Aunt Mae had bubbled at spending an afternoon with Mrs. Shale. “Don’t you worry, dear,” she told Holly. “We’ll get along just fine. Does she like to quilt?” Before Holly could answer she had no clue, Aunt Mae pressed on, “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll show her. We’ll have a great time.”

Holly waved to her aunt. “Come in, Aunt Mae. This is Mrs. Shale.”

Her aunt tottered into the bedroom and took Mrs. Shale’s hands. “It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m so glad you’ll be staying here with Holly because she’s all alone in this big house.”

Holly rolled her eyes.

“I know this house forwards and backwards, “ Aunt Mae said. “ I’ll show you where everything is.”

“Is that one of those portable quilt cases you have there?” Mrs. Shale asked.

Aunt Mae beamed. “Yes, it is. You must be a quilter.”

Mrs. Shale popped up from the bed. “Twenty-six years and at least fifty projects under my belt.”

“Wow! You’ll have to give me some pointers.” Aunt Mae grabbed Mrs. Shale’s hand. “Come. We’ll sit in the living room. I’ll make us lunch. Then I’ll show you what I’m working on. Maybe we can take a ride over to the quilt shop later this afternoon.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.”

The two women scurried towards the door.

Holly stood frozen in the middle of the blue room, her eyebrows arched. “But, uh.”

Aunt Mae turned to face her. “But what, dear?”

“Perhaps Mrs. Shale would like to rest.”

Aunt Mae looked at Mrs. Shale. Mrs. Shale shook her head. “See, she doesn’t want to rest.”

“But.”

Her aunt flicked her fingers at Holly. “Oh, posh. We’ll be just fine here, she and I. Go back to the hospital. And quit worrying. You’ll get wrinkles before your time.”

Her aunt and Mrs. Shale, her aunt’s new best friend and quilting guru, giggled like schoolgirls all the way down the stairs. Holly paused in the bedroom. She wasn’t sure how she had been left behind by the two of them, but she got what she wanted, to see that Mrs. Shale be comfortable in her home. Holly nodded to herself. Mission accomplished.

***

Holly strode past the hospital’s front desk, straightening the lapels of her white lab coat before entering the auditorium. Aunt Mae and Mrs. Shale busy bantering about which stitch is better, hardly noticed her leaving the house. The tiers of seats full, medical students at the rear, interns and residents filling the center, and attending physicians up front, Holly eased to the front row, sitting next to Noel.

“How did it go?” He asked.

Holly sighed. “They don’t need me.”

Noel patted her knee and winked. “Aw. I need you.”

Holly pressed her lips into a smile. Her stomach fluttered and her pulse bumped. Noel was everything she had always desired: smart, sexy, talented in the O.R. like she was, and he made her laugh. But was she ready for him in her life? She had gotten used to living alone, not having to hide her quirks. The clothes in her closet led a regimented life. She aligned her bunny slippers in perfect parallel at her bedside. The bristles of her toothbrush had to face right. Why? She had no clue. She’d done that since childhood. Her mother wasn’t overly fastidious, and her father was a mess cat when her mother wasn’t looking. Why was she the way she was? Hmm. She glanced at Noel who despite the Chief of the Surgical Department’s introduction of today’s topic tracked her from the corners of his eyes. She could hardly believe he’d be interested in her aside from a collegial point of view. No one had been in the past. She dated sparingly, men outside of medicine. Noel would break her pattern. Her heartbeat spiraled. Her toes curled in her black ballet flats. Holly gripped the armrests of the auditorium seat. She was about to lean towards him to wish him well in his presentation when Noel stood and walked up to the podium.

The medical crowd hushed as the Chief tapped on the microphone and announced Noel, signaling the beginning of Surgical Grand Rounds.

Noel greeted his colleagues and while resting his hands on the podium, he began his presentation on Crohn’s disease. His speech flowing, not monotonous like many others before him, Noel sailed through his dissertation. Holly tilted her head gradually from one side to another, peeking at the crowd without seeming obvious. She grinned. They were riveted. Even those ensconced in the nose bleed section of the auditorium stayed awake. Her chest swelled with pride. Noel raised his finger to the projectionist. Everyone’s eyes remained glued to the screen as Noel clicked slide after slide of his experience with Crohn’s disease. Then a picture of he and Holly operating together popped onto the screen. Her eyes widened. He didn’t tell her he was going to do that!

“This particular case of the young man with extensive, and unrelenting Crohn’s disease was one of my most challenging surgeries. His post-operative course was rocky, requiring a brief transfer to the intensive care unit. As per my case slides, abdominal abscess, sepsis, pulmonary embolus, acute hemorrhage and wound infection were all ruled out. Anemic, he did receive two units of blood, one in the recovery room and one in ICU. His ileostomy was not draining adequately and after attention to this, the patient was transferred out of the ICU. His remaining course has been uneventful, and he’ll be home for Christmas. I’d like to acknowledge Dr. Holly Green for her skill in the operating room. Dr. Green’s experience and assistance in this surgery was the key to this patient’s successful outcome.”