open for her. "Well, I hope you've learned all you hoped to learn from us. I've got to return to visiting with my residents, so, if you don't mind…"
She hurried through the door and retrieved her notebook from the cart. Dr. Keogh approached her. Plunged back into the blasting high desert heat, she was breathless, her lungs seared, and her mind bleached clean of lies.
"Dr. Keogh, I think you should know the real reason that I came to see you," she stammered. "I'm a fully trained, registered nurse with five years' experience in trauma medicine. I also have cancer—of the liver. The doctors have said it's inoperable and I have a year, maybe less, to live. I saw how advanced Stephen's cancer was, and how strong his body was even in the cancer's metastasized state. I'd like to come here. I don't want to die."
Dr. Keogh gently took her in her arms, stopping her from pulling out her resume or her charts from the hospital in Fresno. He held her for a long time, waiting for she knew not what. And then she was sobbing, and she knew this was it. She hadn't cried in front of anyone for as long as she could remember, perhaps not since her mother died. And now here she was with her puffy-eyed face buried in the shoulder of a strange doctor, bawling her heart out for a life lost before she even knew what to do with it. He held her and let her cry, drew the pain out of her like venom, and let her cry some more, until she felt nothing but the peace Radiant Dawn had given her when she'd first seen it. Dr. Keogh let her go and looked into her eyes, and she could almost see her sorrow swimming around behind them. "I'm sorry, my dear, but it's quite impossible right now."
Slapping her would've elicited less shock. "What? You won't…take me?" She sniffled and choked up in the middle of talking, hated herself for her weakness. The cleansed, open space he'd made inside her filled with hurt and red, red anger.
"We can't admit anyone once the residents have embarked upon their journey into the life force. There's no catching up, Stella. These people have transcended their illness, made themselves as one with it."
Her tears came again, but this time they were hot, stinging. Her hands ached to slap and scratch them. She made them hold each other back and scratch each other as she yelled at him. "How the fuck can you say that to me? How can you tell me I can't have what they have? What kind of heartless chingalo are you, to tell me I have to die, when these people can go on raking your leaves and making your beds? We Mexicans can pick a mean head of lettuce, you gringo bastard—"
His implacable calm wasn't even dented. "Please understand, Ms. Orozco, that we regret this more than you can understand right now. We wish it could be otherwise, but this process can't be revised. We all serve the life force, in our way."
"But as far as you're concerned, the brown people of the world can serve as fertilizer, eh?" An undercurrent of livid self-hatred rolled back on her as she slipped deeper into race-baiting. Never shamed of her heritage, she'd never invoked it for anything. Stella Orozco was a race of one, and it made her sick to hear her own voice using her Hispanic blood as a weapon.
"No, Stella, no. Listen to me," he said and he was closer to her than she would have allowed, just now, if she'd noticed him coming. His hands were on her arms again, but not restraining. She felt comforted, and she fought it. She lost. "Where there is life, there is change. Where life fights change, it breaks through…as cancer. But if your will to live is strong, you'll see the next Radiant Dawn. This is only the first such hospice. There will be others. And you will go among them. We will teach you to live with your illness, which is the life force. We will help you to become one with it, and live."
He let her go again, and steered her toward the cart. As the driver backed it out, Dr. Keogh waved to her once and went inside. As oblivious to the driver now as he
She hurried through the door and retrieved her notebook from the cart. Dr. Keogh approached her. Plunged back into the blasting high desert heat, she was breathless, her lungs seared, and her mind bleached clean of lies.
"Dr. Keogh, I think you should know the real reason that I came to see you," she stammered. "I'm a fully trained, registered nurse with five years' experience in trauma medicine. I also have cancer—of the liver. The doctors have said it's inoperable and I have a year, maybe less, to live. I saw how advanced Stephen's cancer was, and how strong his body was even in the cancer's metastasized state. I'd like to come here. I don't want to die."
Dr. Keogh gently took her in her arms, stopping her from pulling out her resume or her charts from the hospital in Fresno. He held her for a long time, waiting for she knew not what. And then she was sobbing, and she knew this was it. She hadn't cried in front of anyone for as long as she could remember, perhaps not since her mother died. And now here she was with her puffy-eyed face buried in the shoulder of a strange doctor, bawling her heart out for a life lost before she even knew what to do with it. He held her and let her cry, drew the pain out of her like venom, and let her cry some more, until she felt nothing but the peace Radiant Dawn had given her when she'd first seen it. Dr. Keogh let her go and looked into her eyes, and she could almost see her sorrow swimming around behind them. "I'm sorry, my dear, but it's quite impossible right now."
Slapping her would've elicited less shock. "What? You won't…take me?" She sniffled and choked up in the middle of talking, hated herself for her weakness. The cleansed, open space he'd made inside her filled with hurt and red, red anger.
"We can't admit anyone once the residents have embarked upon their journey into the life force. There's no catching up, Stella. These people have transcended their illness, made themselves as one with it."
Her tears came again, but this time they were hot, stinging. Her hands ached to slap and scratch them. She made them hold each other back and scratch each other as she yelled at him. "How the fuck can you say that to me? How can you tell me I can't have what they have? What kind of heartless chingalo are you, to tell me I have to die, when these people can go on raking your leaves and making your beds? We Mexicans can pick a mean head of lettuce, you gringo bastard—"
His implacable calm wasn't even dented. "Please understand, Ms. Orozco, that we regret this more than you can understand right now. We wish it could be otherwise, but this process can't be revised. We all serve the life force, in our way."
"But as far as you're concerned, the brown people of the world can serve as fertilizer, eh?" An undercurrent of livid self-hatred rolled back on her as she slipped deeper into race-baiting. Never shamed of her heritage, she'd never invoked it for anything. Stella Orozco was a race of one, and it made her sick to hear her own voice using her Hispanic blood as a weapon.
"No, Stella, no. Listen to me," he said and he was closer to her than she would have allowed, just now, if she'd noticed him coming. His hands were on her arms again, but not restraining. She felt comforted, and she fought it. She lost. "Where there is life, there is change. Where life fights change, it breaks through…as cancer. But if your will to live is strong, you'll see the next Radiant Dawn. This is only the first such hospice. There will be others. And you will go among them. We will teach you to live with your illness, which is the life force. We will help you to become one with it, and live."
He let her go again, and steered her toward the cart. As the driver backed it out, Dr. Keogh waved to her once and went inside. As oblivious to the driver now as he
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