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“Take a walk, Dr. Santos.” Robby’s voice was hard and brokered no argument as Trinity breathed in harshly and glared between her attending and Kiara, both looking at her with nothing but pity. Their case, a seven-year-old with her second UTI in five months, history of bed wetting, behavioral issues, and new onset trichotillomania, was being released to the care of her parents. CPS had already been alerted to the hospital’s concerns but there was nothing that Trinity or anyone else could do to keep her from being sent back home, home to a place that caused her enough stress to pull out her own hair. How was any of this fair? How could they call themselves caregivers and send this helpless little girl back into the lion’s den? It wasn’t right. So she yelled at Kiara and Robby because they were safe to yell at, wouldn’t yell back or retaliate, because yelling all her hatred at the parents would get her in trouble, maybe even sued, maybe even ruin the chances of this little girl getting saved.
And, as expected, there was no yelling, no punishment. Just Robby’s brick wall of disappointment bearing down on her as Kiara watched on with her “do you need to talk” eyes.
She hated them. Hated them.
Trinity turned on her heel and stomped towards the ambulance bay entrance to take her prescribed “walk”. But once she was out in the muggy air she didn’t know where else to go. Trinity rarely stepped outside the ED walls when she was on shift and she had never willingly hung out in the bay before, preferring to find a quiet, private alcove in the hospital rather than risk having to speak to EMTs or deal with a frantic patient drop-off. The roof was her first choice when she needed air but this walk had been forced upon her and so she’d let her feet take her where they may.
Trinity ducked off to the side where Robby parked his midlife crisis motorcycle and found an empty bench. She sat down heavy enough to hurt and put her head in her hands.
What was the point of all of this? She’d wanted to be a doctor to- to…
Was it to help? Had it ever been so altruistic? Or was she the selfish, overconfident little shit everyone saw? Was it a power trip? God complex? She couldn’t save one little girl and she came undone. How pathetic.
Trinity knotted her fingers in her hair and pulled, an echo of that little girl sitting in a bed too big, waiting to be sent back home.
A hand rested on her shoulder, a familiar voice said, “Trin-”
She smacked the hand off her shoulder and shoved Huckleberry away. “Get the fuck off me.”
“Sorry! So sorry,” Dennis rushed to say, putting both hands up in surrender and taking purposeful steps back. Where his hand had momentarily rested static itched under her skin. He tried so very hard to physically present himself as harmless, and he was harmless, she’d come to learn. He was stronger than he looked but she knew he would never, ever hurt her physically. He was a danger still. Dennis would be her friend if she let him. If she asked. The most dangerous prospect of all.
“I heard about your case,” Dennis said forlornly. There was knowing in his gaze and Trinity wanted to loathe him for it. That was safer than dwelling on what it meant. “It’s awful.”
Trinity snorted. “Awful?! It’s evil, what they expect us to do. Eat all that pain, all that helplessness, swallow it and not choke on it.”
“Yeah…” Dennis trailed off as he considered what he wanted to say next, what would land well. “It takes a special kind of person-”
“Oh, don’t give me that crap,” Trinity snarled, her blood boiling hot in her veins. “Like we’re so evolved, like we’re fucking saints. We’re not. I’m certainly not! If I thought it’d help anything I’d gladly eviscerate every piece of shit abuser who walked into our ED and I’d be happy to do it!” She huffed and puffed, a dragon breathing hot air instead of the intended fire.
Dennis sighed heavily and nodded. “I know. Sometimes I’ll see a person so clearly trapped, in need of someone to step in… and I can only do my job. It feels-” Dennis hesitated, trying to find the right words.
“Pointless,” Trinity finished bluntly.
“... sometimes, yeah.”
“So why even bother?” Trinity asked, her bitter rhetorical question perhaps not as rhetorical as she pretended. If he had an answer, something she could live with…
And despite framing it as a question with no real answer, Dennis considered. Trinity watched him out of the corner of her eye, studying him as thoroughly as she’d studied her anatomy books while powering through med school. Dennis Whitaker was a studyable specimen.
“We’re here for people on their worst days,” Dennis began, and Trinity couldn’t help but scoff at him quoting Robby’s canned response, a response Robby barely gave credence to anymore anyway. Dennis put up a hand. “Wait, hold on. I have more.” Despite her instinct to brush him off, Trinity waited. “We don’t always get it right and we don’t always save people. We aren’t saints, even when people expect us to be. But it’s important to show ourselves trying. What other hope can they have? They see us not giving up, giving it our all, to show them there are people out there who will always try. That’s important work, too, Trinity. Showing up.”
“Showing up did nothing for my patient today,” Trinity said. Dennis nodded glumly. “It… wasn’t enough. It should have been enough.”
“Yeah,” Dennis agreed.
Despite nothing being resolved, somehow Trinity felt lighter, like Dennis had picked up some of her burden and offered to carry it. It had been a long time since anyone had offered. And maybe that she could live with.
“Ready to go back in and show up for some people?” Dennis asked.
It all at once occurred to Trinity that she was the person Dennis was showing up for. Could she handle that?
Could that be enough?
Trinity followed Dennis back inside.