and I stand there, and I
wish I could do it over. It’s like I’m standing in cement, and no matter how
hard I try, I can’t pick my feet up again.” Pain etched Kate’s features. Brody
saw now why Andrew had been so adamant about protecting his sister. She did
blame herself, and the worst thing Brody could do was add to that burden.
I don’t want her blaming herself or
dwelling on the past. I want her eyes on the future. Encourage her to take a
risk, to pursue her dreams. Don’t let her spend one more second grieving or
regretting.
Andrew’s words came back to him. Somehow, Brody needed to find
a way to redirect Kate’s emotional rudder.
She sat for a moment, then shifted in her seat to face him.
“Before the soldiers even knocked on my door, I knew. I fell apart right then, a
sobbing messy puddle on the floor. That pain,” she exhaled a long, shaky breath,
“that pain was excruciating. As if someone had ripped out my heart right in
front of me.” She drew her knees up to her chest, and hugged her arms around her
shins. “What if I’d said ‘be careful’ one more time, or told him I loved him
again? Would it have ended differently?”
“I think you did everything you could. Sometimes…these things
just happen.” Every instinct in him wanted to make this better for her, to ease
her pain. And somehow do it without violating the promise he had made. “When I
was in med school, I lost a patient. I’d seen him a couple times before, and had
gotten to know him during the time I was working there.”
It was a story Brody had never fully told before. The words
halted in his throat, but he pushed them forward. He had promised to help Kate,
and maybe, just maybe, knowing she wasn’t alone would do that. “He loved to walk
the city,” Brody went on. “But he was legally blind, and in a city that
busy…”
“Accidents happened.”
Brody nodded. “Construction projects springing up out of
nowhere create obstacles that he couldn’t see or anticipate. He had a cane, and
was thinking about getting a guide dog, when he was hit by a car.”
“Oh, Brody. That’s awful.”
“He was just crossing the street. One of those senseless deaths
that shouldn’t happen.” Brody sighed and shook his head. “I tried so hard to
keep that man alive. So damned hard. I kept pushing on his chest, up, down, up,
down, yelling at him to hold, to keep trying, don’t die on me—”
At some point he’d stopped talking about the patient in Boston.
His mind had gone back to that dusty hut in Afghanistan, to a moment that could
have been a carbon copy of the one at Mass General. Young man, cut down in the
prime of his life, and Brody, powerless to prevent his death.
“It was too late,” Brody went on, his voice low, hoarse. In
that instant, he didn’t see the pedestrian hit by a car, he saw Andrew’s eyes
again. So like Kate’s. Wide, trusting, believing the doctor tending to his
wounds would know what to do. So sure that Brody could save his life. “It’s in
your hands, doc,” Andrew had said. He’d given Brody his life—
And Brody had let him down.
Brody heard the choppers in his head, the pounding of the
rotors, the shouting of the other soldiers. Heard himself calling out to the
other doctors, asking for supplies they didn’t have. Too many wounded at one
time, too few resources, and too few miracles available. Brody flexed his palms,
but he could still feel Andrew’s chest beneath his hands. The furious pumping to
try to bring him back, and the silent, still response.
“They had to stop me from doing CPR,” Brody said. The other
doctor, pulling him off, telling him it was too late. There was no hope. “I
just…I wanted him to live so bad, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough at all.”
Now her hand covered his, sympathetic, understanding. “Oh,
Brody, I’m so sorry.”
On the other side of the reservoir, Brody saw the gray flash of
the soldier’s T-shirt moving down the path. Guilt and regret
wish I could do it over. It’s like I’m standing in cement, and no matter how
hard I try, I can’t pick my feet up again.” Pain etched Kate’s features. Brody
saw now why Andrew had been so adamant about protecting his sister. She did
blame herself, and the worst thing Brody could do was add to that burden.
I don’t want her blaming herself or
dwelling on the past. I want her eyes on the future. Encourage her to take a
risk, to pursue her dreams. Don’t let her spend one more second grieving or
regretting.
Andrew’s words came back to him. Somehow, Brody needed to find
a way to redirect Kate’s emotional rudder.
She sat for a moment, then shifted in her seat to face him.
“Before the soldiers even knocked on my door, I knew. I fell apart right then, a
sobbing messy puddle on the floor. That pain,” she exhaled a long, shaky breath,
“that pain was excruciating. As if someone had ripped out my heart right in
front of me.” She drew her knees up to her chest, and hugged her arms around her
shins. “What if I’d said ‘be careful’ one more time, or told him I loved him
again? Would it have ended differently?”
“I think you did everything you could. Sometimes…these things
just happen.” Every instinct in him wanted to make this better for her, to ease
her pain. And somehow do it without violating the promise he had made. “When I
was in med school, I lost a patient. I’d seen him a couple times before, and had
gotten to know him during the time I was working there.”
It was a story Brody had never fully told before. The words
halted in his throat, but he pushed them forward. He had promised to help Kate,
and maybe, just maybe, knowing she wasn’t alone would do that. “He loved to walk
the city,” Brody went on. “But he was legally blind, and in a city that
busy…”
“Accidents happened.”
Brody nodded. “Construction projects springing up out of
nowhere create obstacles that he couldn’t see or anticipate. He had a cane, and
was thinking about getting a guide dog, when he was hit by a car.”
“Oh, Brody. That’s awful.”
“He was just crossing the street. One of those senseless deaths
that shouldn’t happen.” Brody sighed and shook his head. “I tried so hard to
keep that man alive. So damned hard. I kept pushing on his chest, up, down, up,
down, yelling at him to hold, to keep trying, don’t die on me—”
At some point he’d stopped talking about the patient in Boston.
His mind had gone back to that dusty hut in Afghanistan, to a moment that could
have been a carbon copy of the one at Mass General. Young man, cut down in the
prime of his life, and Brody, powerless to prevent his death.
“It was too late,” Brody went on, his voice low, hoarse. In
that instant, he didn’t see the pedestrian hit by a car, he saw Andrew’s eyes
again. So like Kate’s. Wide, trusting, believing the doctor tending to his
wounds would know what to do. So sure that Brody could save his life. “It’s in
your hands, doc,” Andrew had said. He’d given Brody his life—
And Brody had let him down.
Brody heard the choppers in his head, the pounding of the
rotors, the shouting of the other soldiers. Heard himself calling out to the
other doctors, asking for supplies they didn’t have. Too many wounded at one
time, too few resources, and too few miracles available. Brody flexed his palms,
but he could still feel Andrew’s chest beneath his hands. The furious pumping to
try to bring him back, and the silent, still response.
“They had to stop me from doing CPR,” Brody said. The other
doctor, pulling him off, telling him it was too late. There was no hope. “I
just…I wanted him to live so bad, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough at all.”
Now her hand covered his, sympathetic, understanding. “Oh,
Brody, I’m so sorry.”
On the other side of the reservoir, Brody saw the gray flash of
the soldier’s T-shirt moving down the path. Guilt and regret
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