Always Watching

Heather’s death, how I was struggling with it, wishing I’d done more. The wedding photo of Heather that Daniel had given me rested on the table between us as we talked. My gaze dropped down to it often, my mind still trying to make sense of her death, as though her face, captured forever in a smile from a happier time, might hold all the answers. Kevin shared that he’d also lost a patient before.
    He said, “I started wondering if I had what it takes.”
    I nodded. “I have to admit that’s how I’m feeling right now. I’m second-guessing myself with every patient.”
    “Completely natural. It took me a while to get my confidence back. I traveled for a while, trying to reconnect with myself. Then I starting thinking about all the people I had helped, and all the ones I could still help. It’s impossible, I think, to save everyone, but if we help even one person in our lifetime, then we succeeded.”
    “That’s a good way to look at it. But I still feel like I missed something. I should’ve placed her on a one to one, but we’d just had the meeting about funding.…” One to one is when a nurse is assigned to monitor a patient constantly. We usually reserve that for high-risk cases because of budget restraints. And in Heather’s case, she hadn’t indicated she was having suicidal thoughts again.
    “If you’d requested it, it would’ve been shot down.” He was right, but I still wished I’d tried. “You did the right thing by putting her back in the seclusion room. Even if she’d been up in PIC, it still might’ve happened. You know as well as I do that if someone wants to complete, they’ll find a way.”
    “True. But even one day can make such a difference.”
    “And then something could’ve tipped her back the other way.” He held my gaze. “You did your best.”
    I stared down at my coffee, fiddled with the cup, avoiding the photo, and Heather’s blue eyes, which now seemed accusing and angry, her mouth saying all the things I was thinking. You should’ve saved me. You missed the signs.
    Kevin leaned over the table. “Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
    I searched his expression for any insincerity, found none.
    He repeated, “You’re not responsible for her death.”
    I gave him a smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate the support. This has hit me even harder than I realized at first.”
    “We should—” He stopped as his pager went off and glanced down, made a disappointed face. “Duty calls.” He looked directly at me. “If you want to talk again, let me know.”
    “I will.”
    *   *   *
    After he’d left, I sat there for a minute, looking at my reflection in the window, wondering what Kevin had been about to say. I tucked Heather’s wedding photo into my pocket, then picked up our cups, Kevin’s still warm from his hand.

 
    CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Heather’s obituary was in the paper the next day, along with an announcement for her funeral, to be followed by a burial at the memorial gardens. The same place Paul was buried. A heavy pressure settled on my chest as I remembered the sound of each shovelful of dirt falling on his casket while I stood numb by his grave. Then I thought about Daniel and how hard it was going to be for him. I wanted to go to Heather’s funeral to pay my respects but wasn’t sure it was a good idea even though it’s appropriate for a doctor to attend a patient’s service. I didn’t want to add to Daniel’s distress. In the end, I decided to visit Paul’s grave the same day—I hadn’t been for a while—and if I could, watch Heather’s burial from a distance.
    *   *   *
    The afternoon of the funeral was sunny but cold enough to make the skin on my cheeks tighten and my hands ache. I wore my black trench coat, a gray-and-cream scarf Paul loved, and big sunglasses. I set some tiger lilies on Paul’s headstone and saw that someone had planted a small flowering shrub at the base of the stone. I knelt and spotted a tiny plastic dog nestled in the roots—white, like our beloved husky, Chinook, who’d passed away a year before Paul. My eyes welled up. Lisa must have left it for her father.
    Then, in the distance, I saw a small procession moving toward Heather’s grave, which wasn’t far from Paul’s. There weren’t a lot of people, but I wasn’t surprised. Heather had mentioned that her parents didn’t have much family, and Daniel had told me she’d pushed her friends away.
    When the ceremony was over, people