She pulled back from him, slipped on the ice, and before he was able to turn back to her, she fell to the ground, her back stinging as she landed hard.
“Sage, I’m sorry,” Spence said, immediately crouching down.
“I’m fine,” she said as the sob bubbled up and escaped through her tight throat.
“You are nowhere near fine,” he said as he opened the truck door and got her inside. She didn’t want to be in there but somehow found herself shivering on his front seat.
“I don’t want to drive anywhere,” she told him, nearly eaten alive by panic.
“Then we’ll just sit here and keep warm.”
She could handle that. “I wanted so badly to save her,” she said, anguish clearly coming through.
“She couldn’t be saved, Sage. As soon as I did the first assessment, saw the damage, I knew we wouldn’t save her,” Spence said, making her head whip around as she replayed his words.
“Wha—what? What do you mean?”
“She wasn’t going to make it. The internal damage was too great. A rib had pierced her heart and both lungs. She was hemorrhaging. With the condition of the roads and the delay in the emergency call, it took too long for her to get here. Nothing we did from that point forward was going to help.”
“Then why did you tell me to save her, damn you?” Sage was seething. She needed somewhere to direct her anger, and Spence had just given her the perfect target.
“Because that’s what we do, Sage. We work on the hopeless and sometimes there’s a miracle. We work until we can’t work any longer so we can tell the parents we did absolutely everything we could. We work until that child is no longer with us, even when we know it’s of no use.”
“Why didn’t you keep working, then? I’m just a resident—a freaking first-year resident. I’ve only been in training for a little over six months. I don’t know everything, not at all. You gave up. You shouldn’t have given up.”
“It’s something you had to learn. You had to know that you can fight to the death if you have to, but that you will survive when the worst happens. And you will, Sage. You’ll hurt for a little while and then you’ll come back in and do this all over again. Sometimes you’ll win and sometimes you’ll lose, but the point is that you will survive.”
When Spence reached toward her, she jerked away, angry with him even though she could see some logic to his words. He was, in essence, her teacher—and to do his job right, he needed to teach her everything he could. But this lesson hurt too badly—was still hurting her too badly—for her to forgive him just yet.
“I’m going to drive now, Sage. I know you haven’t eaten anything all day, and you need to get something in you before you make yourself sick.” He put the truck in reverse and started moving.
Sage should have left, stepped from the truck, but though she was mad at him, she also wanted his comfort, wanted not to be alone. They drove for a while, heading toward the city instead of Sterling. She watched fat snowflakes fall against the windshield as she and Spence reached downtown Billings, where lights lined the streets and people rushed from vehicles to restaurants and stores. The city was alive even with the snow. It continued forward even if one of its residents had been tragically taken from them.
“If you let it, this will kill you, Sage. If you get too attached, start blaming yourself, you will fail again and again. You can’t grieve over your patients, and you can’t hold yourself responsible. You have to work as hard and as fast as you can, but you have to remember that you’re only human—there’s only so much you can do. Sometimes, God has a different plan.”
It was odd, but the sound of his voice was soothing her, making her feel somehow just a bit better. He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t heard before, but when faced with life and death and coming out on the losing end, she’d found it difficult to remember what she’d been taught.
“I understand that, Spence. But it’s still easier said than done.”
“Yes, but you can find the balance you need to find. You’ll know how to care just the right amount, enough that you’ll work your hardest, but not so much that you lose yourself. You’re a fighter, Sage, and you’ll be an advocate for your patients. That’s all anyone can hope for from a doctor. Be strong, but don’t be afraid to lean on others.”
“I guess the hardest part is that so many people live who will go back to abusing drugs, or cheating on a spouse, or beating their children. So many people get their lives saved who turn around and throw that life away. And then, suddenly, there’s this six-year-old girl on your table who woke up that morning to ask how many more days until Christmas, who might have gone outside and built a snowman, who’d just begun school and had an entire future ahead of her. And she’s the one who goes. It’s just not fair.”
“No, none of it’s fair, Sage. All I know is that we take an oath to help everyone who seeks us. We take an oath not to judge, to do all we can. Sometimes we do have to help people who the world might be better off without. You can never know that, though, and sometimes we lose someone so precious I don’t know how the world can survive the loss. Sometimes the day doesn’t bring us anything at all. This is a job—a job we love, a job that helps people, but it is a job. You have to leave it at the hospital when you step through those doors. You can’t carry it home with you, and you can’t shoulder the burden all alone.”