werechattering and laughing as they started up their little
finjan
on the stove to brew Turkish coffee and then began the morning
sponja
. Aviva wiped off the countertops. “Whose medication is this?” she asked. She held up a syringe filled with clear yellow fluid. I stared at it in her hand.
“How did Talia deal with the high dose of Amphotericin?” Dr. Ben Cassis continued his interrogation. “Did she have a reaction this time? Any chills or rigours? What’s her temperature?”
“A reaction?” I asked slowly, stalling, thinking it through.
“I hope you gave it slowly, with lots of fluid. Did you do that?”
No, I hadn’t given it at all. I had prepared it and drawn it out of the vial, but I hadn’t given it to Talia. I gulped for air, but my throat closed up tight. “I forgot to give it,” I squeaked. Aviva ran off to tend to Geula as I stood stock-still, quaking in terror, staring at that syringe on the counter.
“What? How could you be so stupid?” Ben Cassis pounded his fist on the tabletop. “Damn it!” he shouted. Hannah jumped up. I thought he might hit me, but words were his blows. “You could have killed her,” he screamed at me, switching to English, as if its foreignness might help him restrain himself from murdering me. Maybe he did it to even the playing field, otherwise it would be like crushing a bug. He was a powerful, intimidating man, but he was not a bully.
“I know, I know,” I cried.
“Surely you realize that a patient as immuno-compromised and vulnerable as Talia could quickly become septic!” he raged at me. “She could die from a fungal infection!”
I stood there taking it. I deserved it. It was part of my punishment.
“This is a matter of life and death here! Don’t you realize that?” I nodded and looked down at my blood-splattered running shoes. “If Talia dies, it is because of your carelessness.”
“That’s enough.” Hannah stood in between us. “Go home,” she whispered to me. “Talia will live or die regardless of one missed dose.” I couldn’t move. Hannah took my face in her hands. “Go home, sweetie. You need sleep. See you tonight.” She pushed me toward the door. Dizzy and exhausted, I stumbled out and onto thedirt road at the back of Barrack Thirty-six Alef. As I began to make my way home, the wailing began. Geula’s daughters’ grief shook the old building.
I reviewed the night. I must have reasoned that Talia, the youngest and the most curable, could likely withstand more temporary neglect than the others. Although the others had less chance of survival, I felt certain Talia would make it through the night. And even though we were not actively treating Samuel any more, I had to ensure he was comfortable and didn’t suffer. Geula’s fierce daughters intimidated me and I was afraid they would blame me if she died during the night, while I was alone on duty. So, even though Geula had been closest to death, I had worked the hardest on her. My thought process was flawed because it was motivated by fear.
I made it home and didn’t even bother to shower before flopping onto my bed, still in my uniform. I tried to sleep. The phone rang and I jumped up. As I flew to it, I felt certain it was Ben Cassis calling to tell me that Talia had died. I answered the call and instead took a message for my roommate to call her mother. Finally, I fell asleep and when I woke up it was ten o’clock that night, barely time to rush back to work by eleven o’clock for another night shift.
That night new patients were in Samuel’s and Geula’s beds, now freshly washed and made up, completely innocent of the suffering they had recently contained. Yuri was watching the TV show
Top of the Pops
, the weekly hit parade of tunes, and waved to me as I walked past. Abdullah had been discharged home that morning. Only his mother and I knew what had gone on that night.
For months after that night, I avoided Ben Cassis. Of course, I worked with him and saw him
finjan
on the stove to brew Turkish coffee and then began the morning
sponja
. Aviva wiped off the countertops. “Whose medication is this?” she asked. She held up a syringe filled with clear yellow fluid. I stared at it in her hand.
“How did Talia deal with the high dose of Amphotericin?” Dr. Ben Cassis continued his interrogation. “Did she have a reaction this time? Any chills or rigours? What’s her temperature?”
“A reaction?” I asked slowly, stalling, thinking it through.
“I hope you gave it slowly, with lots of fluid. Did you do that?”
No, I hadn’t given it at all. I had prepared it and drawn it out of the vial, but I hadn’t given it to Talia. I gulped for air, but my throat closed up tight. “I forgot to give it,” I squeaked. Aviva ran off to tend to Geula as I stood stock-still, quaking in terror, staring at that syringe on the counter.
“What? How could you be so stupid?” Ben Cassis pounded his fist on the tabletop. “Damn it!” he shouted. Hannah jumped up. I thought he might hit me, but words were his blows. “You could have killed her,” he screamed at me, switching to English, as if its foreignness might help him restrain himself from murdering me. Maybe he did it to even the playing field, otherwise it would be like crushing a bug. He was a powerful, intimidating man, but he was not a bully.
“I know, I know,” I cried.
“Surely you realize that a patient as immuno-compromised and vulnerable as Talia could quickly become septic!” he raged at me. “She could die from a fungal infection!”
I stood there taking it. I deserved it. It was part of my punishment.
“This is a matter of life and death here! Don’t you realize that?” I nodded and looked down at my blood-splattered running shoes. “If Talia dies, it is because of your carelessness.”
“That’s enough.” Hannah stood in between us. “Go home,” she whispered to me. “Talia will live or die regardless of one missed dose.” I couldn’t move. Hannah took my face in her hands. “Go home, sweetie. You need sleep. See you tonight.” She pushed me toward the door. Dizzy and exhausted, I stumbled out and onto thedirt road at the back of Barrack Thirty-six Alef. As I began to make my way home, the wailing began. Geula’s daughters’ grief shook the old building.
I reviewed the night. I must have reasoned that Talia, the youngest and the most curable, could likely withstand more temporary neglect than the others. Although the others had less chance of survival, I felt certain Talia would make it through the night. And even though we were not actively treating Samuel any more, I had to ensure he was comfortable and didn’t suffer. Geula’s fierce daughters intimidated me and I was afraid they would blame me if she died during the night, while I was alone on duty. So, even though Geula had been closest to death, I had worked the hardest on her. My thought process was flawed because it was motivated by fear.
I made it home and didn’t even bother to shower before flopping onto my bed, still in my uniform. I tried to sleep. The phone rang and I jumped up. As I flew to it, I felt certain it was Ben Cassis calling to tell me that Talia had died. I answered the call and instead took a message for my roommate to call her mother. Finally, I fell asleep and when I woke up it was ten o’clock that night, barely time to rush back to work by eleven o’clock for another night shift.
That night new patients were in Samuel’s and Geula’s beds, now freshly washed and made up, completely innocent of the suffering they had recently contained. Yuri was watching the TV show
Top of the Pops
, the weekly hit parade of tunes, and waved to me as I walked past. Abdullah had been discharged home that morning. Only his mother and I knew what had gone on that night.
For months after that night, I avoided Ben Cassis. Of course, I worked with him and saw him
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