The Night Shift

Chris and I were hanging out at the house and the conversation turned to the future. As it does after dating someone for 2-ish years. So far the biggest hang-up in our relationship is the living apart thing. We are close enough to visit regularly and both have alternative schedules that allow for long blocks of time off instead of just being in a weekend relationship.

“Do you want me to move in with you”

I feel the color drain out of my face. A thousand questions rushed through my mind. What does this mean? I mean we had talked about moving to the same city, but nothing serious. And definitely not about moving in together.

Chris noticed that I suddenly went mute.

“It’s not like I’d be your unemployed boyfriend or anything. I’d get a job. I mean first I’d have to get a license, but after that, definitely a job”

“Where’s this coming from?” I asked Chris because we had never even mentioned moving in together.

“well, your lease in up in about 3 months, correct?” I nodded in the affirm. “You are going to have to move, correct?” Another nod. “So why not us move somewhere together.”

Why not indeed?

Perhaps before Chris uproots his life and moves states for me I should tell him I’ve been accepted to medical school.

Everclear: Unemployed Boyfriend

Long-distance relationships are not easy.. I don’t think it would be possible without cellphones and pagers. A quick “RU UP?’ lets us chat at 3a. I think everyone can agree on that. It’s even more challenging when one person works night shift and the other works 24-hour shifts. The best thing about our schedules is that it allows for some chunks of time off that we can spend together. Also 3am is not the time for overthinking; for us, it’s when people [babies on my end; adults on his] have finally gone to sleep.

Hospitals are a weird place anyway.  In some ways, time stops. We’re still living in the 1990s with our reliance on pagers and cellphones. Technology and 3am calls keep us together, but I miss the days when we worked together and Chris would hang out in my office and we could talk about random things in person. What I wouldn’t give to be able to see him as I hear him. Its so strange to have seen him this very morning at the bookstore and yet know it will be 2-3 weeks before we see each other again.

I wonder if it will always be this way. In order for me to do pursue my passion, I have to give up on another port of my life. It was a thorn in the relationship with Justin as well. Everything was great in the beginning until we started about the future. While I could do my job in major city with a teaching hospital, I can’t move every year. And while Justin was a NHL player, players can be traded in season and out. And after his playing career, he was all about going back home to Canada. And that just left me out in the cold. Better to have ended it sooner rather than later, I guess.

Chris and I grew up literally 5 minutes apart. Neither of us wanted to every go back We worked together for 3 years before he said he liked me. Why couldn’t he have said this before I moved away.. Now our lives revolve around cellphones and pagers and the odd hospital schedules

On March 15, I went on a date with Chris. You know what they say about the Ides of March. Actually, that has nothing to do with anything. It’s just a convenient way too keep track of the date.

The pretext was that Chris asked to see my photos from my recent trip to Italy. He’d ordered Italian food, bread, pasta, and even tiramisu for desert. He transformed the call room into a picnic of sorts– as if you can have a picnic in a hospital. After dinner we screencast my photos to the TV, and we toured Italy. Me for the second time in a month.

And I felt something. I’m not sure what it was. But after Jeremy. And James. And even Justin, spending the evening with Chris was a different.

We toured the Alps in Turin. And sailed the canals of Venice. Admired art in Florence and hiked villages in Cinque Terre. We made our way to Rome and ate our bodyweight in pasta, pizza, and gelato. Then we hopped a train down to Sorrento and Naples–birthplace of pizza.

And then Chris asked me the million dollar question, “Why did you go alone?”

I’ve rehearsed this answer a million times. Is a question I get from nearly everyone.

“I’d rather go alone than never go at all. And I’m not going to sit by waiting for ‘someone’ to go with me.”

“But aren’t you worried?”

“About what? People? Travel? Being by myself. No, I’m not. I travel 4 hours to see you. I’ll travel 9 to see David. Or eat gelato. Or see Mt. Kilimanjaro. There’s is a whole big world out there and I want to see as much of it as possible”

But Chris was hearing nothing I said.

“You drove 4 hours to see me?”

“Well, it’s 4 hours between here and there. And I live and work there. And what reason do I have to be here. Other than you”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh”

Chris looked at me. I looked everywhere except those green eyes of his.

“Eliza, …”

“Chris” we both spoke at the same time. I kept on “I have to go. I’ve already stayed too long. And it’s a 4 hour drive home.”

I gathered up my stuff and headed for the door. I reminded myself I was still in a hospital. I’ve already had one relationship begin and end within the confines of the hospital walls. This is how people get a certain kind of reputation. All these thoughts were going through my mind when Chris placed his hand on my shoulder, and as I turned around, he kissed me.

Soft and gentle at first, kinda questioning if this was the right thing. Then with a lot more urgency. probing, even.

A kiss can mean so many things. But what did this kiss mean. After 3 years of being co-workers and casual friends…after moving 250 miles away, dating in a new city, finding a job I really, really enjoy (and I’m good at!) NOW, TODAY is the day he decides to do something.

It was a really good kiss, though.

Sixpence None the Richer: Kiss Me

I’ve never been nervous going to the hospital before.

Of course, I’ve never been on a date in the hospital before.

Tuesday, I met with my old boss Gus about picking up some extra hours at the hospital where I used to work. I usually have 8 days off every other week and I hate the city I live in. Besides, I’d like to get a little more ER time. The NICU and PICU are awesome and I love pediatrics, but I feel like I’m losing some of my skills.

As I was leaving, I ran into Chris. Literally. He was coming down the hallway of the new addition and I was walking down the same long hallway where we first met.

‘Um, hi” I said. Chris look distracted. He didn’t say anything.

“Well, have a good day then”

I continued on my way, wondering exactly what was going on with Chris. He’d never been this way with me. Maybe my leaving really did affect him. Maybe coming back here was a bad idea. I can come up with a lot of maybes.

“Liza….wait. Wait” I was lost in my thoughts and kept walking. I felt a hand on my shoulder and instinctively my left hand curled into a ball and launched into a punch. Chris intercepted the punch. “What the hell?’

“I’m sorry” I stammered. “I was lost in thought and you grabbed me.”

“I’m sorry. I called your name and you kept walking”

“That doesn’t give you the right to grab me. I don’t care who you are”

‘I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Liza, please”

We stood there in the hospital parking lot–each one waiting on the other to say something.

“I go back to NC tomorrow.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know that I will”

“Well, I guess that means tonight, then”

“You’re working.”

“Yea, but I gotta eat. I can order food and we can eat together in the call room”

“Like a date?”

“If you can call the call room a date spot, then yes”

“What time?”

“I usually don’t get a lot of calls between 6:30-8:00 so how about then”

“OK. I call you when I get here.”

So I guess I have a date. Or something. With Chris. After knowing him for 3 years, I am just as nervous as the day I ran into him.

Blink-182: First Date

Jeremy promised to take me to Italy after graduation. I got so excited. I think I fell in love with the idea of Jeremy more than the reality. I loved his mom–a native Italian, and I loved the promises he made. But the reality was he had a lot of baggage and I wasn’t the one to unpack it. And once police get involved in a relationship, it’s mostly always doomed. But I still held on to the idea of Ischia and more broadly, Italy.

And arriving in Rome was everything I imagined it would be. Getting off the metro stop at Colosseum and seeing the literal colosseum was awe-inspiring. And being in Rome. Simply Amazing.

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After 2 days in Rome indulging in my archaeology-nerdy side, I headed north for the Winter Olympics. I am a major Olympics nerd, and a chance to see some of the less popular sports was high on my list. So off to Torino I go…

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” Hi. Is this seat taken?”

I look up and gesture that it isn’t. I’ve got my headphones in and don’t really want to engage in conversation. Also, I don’t speak Italian, or at least not enough to have a conversation. I’m much more focused on the scenery. A train ride through the Alps. In winter. Swoon.

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‘Wow. It’s really chilly.” I mention to no one in particular, after arriving back in the hotel lobby. Someone laughs, not really at me, but more my comment. “Well, it is winter. In the Alps.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just not used to it. I love it and it’s amazing, but it still catches me off guard.”

I was talking to Andrea, a fellow Olympic nerd, who I’d met in the hotel lobby the night before. Andrea was originally from Milan, but had been living in Stockholm for the last few years so winter was nothing new for him. We had spent the day completely outside watching some of the skiing events. I’m quite sure my fingers and toes were numb from the cold.

“Hey, are you going to biathlon tomorrow? If so, do you want to meet in the lobby tomorrow morning? I’m going to go up to my room and defrost.” I asked Andrea, careful to cut off any possibility of anything else happening.

“Sounds like a plan. See you in the morning”

Andrea was a buttoned-up Italian who had been living in Stockholm for a while. Emotional expression was not his strong suit. But I was in Italy to heal. Heal from Jeremy, James, and Justin. Heal from everything that had happened with my dad. Figure out what the fuck I wanted to do in my life. More Italy. Less bullshit. How do I make this happen? I absolutely did not need to think of the buttoned-up, well-dressed Italian in any way other than a fellow Olympic nerd.

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I arrived in the lobby a full 5 minutes before our scheduled meeting time, and Andrea was there, two cups in hand. Northern Italy is a lot more time conscious than Rome, or even me. Maybe it’s the proximity to Switzerland. Who knows? I feel as if I am always running late.

“Cioccolato. Caldo. Doppio. I still cannot believe that you do not drink caffe. In any form. Do you know how hard it was to get this for you?

“Thank you. You didn’t have to, you know?”

“I know. But it blows my mind that you start your day without anything”

I took the paper cup containing decadent hot chocolate from Andrea and we boarded the bus to take us to the biathlon site.

Other than ice hockey, biathlon is my favorite winter Olympic sport. I can’t explain it, I’ve never done it, but one day, I will. Curling also fascinates me, but I understand nothing about it.

“Hey, do you want to have dinner with me this evening. I know a really good restaurant that’s not too far away.”

‘Sure. I could go for a good meal. One cannot survive on bread, cheese, and gelato alone.”

“Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby at 4:30”

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Whilst packing I debated against bringing my knee high boots and a skirt. I’m glad I decided to pack them for the inevitable ‘what if?”. Clad in my pumpkin orange cozy sweater, cream courderoy skirt, brown knee high boots, and a chocolate brown pea coat, I was in the lobby promptly at 4p. I headed to the hotel bar and ordered a glass of chianti, partly to steel my nerves. Andrea arrived at 4:15 and was pleasantly surprised to see me.

“Where are we headed for dinner? 4:30 is a little early, isn’t in?”

“Well, we didn’t have lunch so I thought we’d have some appetizers on our way?

“On our way? Where are we going that we need to pack snacks?

“To Milano. I know a place…”

“Of course you do,” I laughed as he took my hand and we headed off towards the train station.

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We arrived to a rustic trattoria and the scent of garlic and herbs enveloped us. Andrea hugged the maitre’d, and launched into rapid fire Italian. They hugged again.

“My cousin’s family owns this restaurant. That was a friend from childhood who I haven’t seen in years.”

We went to a cozy corner table adorned with a checkered tablecloth. The walls were lined with rustic wooden shelves filled with jars of preserved vegetables and bottles of Chianti. As we settled in, Andrea eagerly pointed out the day’s specials, highlighting dishes that celebrated the rich culinary heritage of Northern Italy. I’d naively assumed that “Italian cuisine” was all tomatoes, pasta, and seafood. I’d never really thought about Northern Italy being so close to France and Switzerland and being influenced by those cultures.

“I have to recommend the risotto alla Milanese,” Andrea said, his green eyes sparkling. “It’s creamy and infused with saffron, a true Milanese classic.”

“I’d love to try it! And maybe the ossobuco?”

We talked about life in general and how the fates aligned to have us both in Torino for the Olympics. I talked a little bit about my work–people are usually impressed by the fact that I work with sick babies and children. It felt like the conversation had just started when the food arrived.

The risotto had a golden hue to it indicating its culinary perfection. Each spoonful of the risotto was a delightful blend of smells and flavors. “Andrea, this is incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it! It’s my nonna’s recipe,” Andrea said, pride shining in his eyes

We shared the ossobuco, the tender meat falling off the bone, and got lost in laughter and conversation, our connection deepening with each passing moment. The ambiance of the trattoria made it feel like we were in our own little world, separate from the winter chill outside.

After dinner, Andrea suggested a walk to the nearby Navigli district, famous for its picturesque canals and vibrant nightlife. The streets sparkled under the soft glow of lights, and the sound of laughter echoed from the bustling bars and cafés lining the waterways. We found a small gelato stand and Andrea tested my “It’s never too cold for gelato theory.”

“So, what’s your favorite thing about Milan?” I asked Andrea.

“The food, of course,” he smirked. “But really, it’s the way the city combines history and modern life. There’s always something new to discover, just like tonight. We went to my family’s restaurant but that gelato stand was not here when I was last in Milano”

“I feel the same way. Milano has been one of my favorite discoveries so far. I never expected to come here. Roma, of course. Firenze–absolutely, but I really had no plans to see Northern Italy other than to see the Olympics”

As we reached a quiet spot by the water, Andrea turned to me, his expression serious yet gentle. “Can I kiss you?”

I nodded, my heart racing as he leaned in. Our lips met softly, a sweet moment filled with promise. Andrea’s kiss was different, maybe because we both knew we have tonight. And tomorrow. And then Andrea goes back to Stockholm and I continue my journey in Italy.

As we pulled away, laughter bubbled up between us. “Never wait too long between adventures,” Andrea advised. “I think that’s advice I’d take to heart.” My heart–my spirit–felt lighter than it had in months.

Under the starry Milanese sky, we continued to talk and laugh, the winter chill forgotten, knowing this night was the beginning. Not necessarily the beginning of us; I’m not that naive. But I do feel, for the first time in a long time, that I’m truly open for whatever the future holds.

The All-star brake came and went. Justin went to Ontario, and I didn’t. And after that, things just weren’t the same. He stopped coming my the peds hospital in the mornings and I stopped going to the arena after practice. My friend Wendy and I went to the first home game after the break. Justin completely ignored me as if ‘we’ never existed.

“Wow. He really does not like you right now.”

“I know. You’d think I did something really bad instead of just saying no to Ontario”

“You know, it wasn’t about Ontario.”

“I’m beginning to figure that out. But I mean it really was about Ontario… at least in the beginning. I was angling to go to the Caribbean so Ontario was about the opposite of a warm beach vacay. I didn’t realize at first that Justin wanted me to meet his siblings and his mom. So when I said no to Ontario, Justin thought I was saying no to his family. And no matter what I said after that, Justin was cold. Cold as Canadian ice.

“I don’t even know why I bothered to come to the game tonight. It’s obvious that he no longer wants anything to do with me.”

“You came because you like hockey. And the team is doing really well. And you had free tickets”

“Yeah, you’re right. You remember that kid I was telling you about, Xavier? The one who lost his mom and dad in a MVA.

“You mean the one where the husband murdered his wife in a DUI.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. Regardless, the little brother died too. Xavier is the only surviving family member. I bonded with that boy and I took it really hard. Like, I saw myself in him and wanted to do anything possible to protect him. But he’s alone in the world–at 10. Not many people know what that’s like. And now Xavier is going to grow up without a family. His whole life’s trajectory has changed. Anyway…I put in to be his guardian ad litem. It won’t happen. There’s too much background for me to get cleared in time for Xavier, but maybe in the future….

“Also, I’m taking a leave of absence. I don’t know how long, but with the NICU being off the chain, and Xavier, and now Justin… not to mention all the drama of this last year, I just need a break, you know”

“What are you going to do? Where are you going to go?”

“I was thinking Italy. Jeremy always said he was going to take me to Ischia. Maybe it’s time I take myself…”

I need a break. From life. From men, and definitely from my patients dying. Or becoming orphans. Winter has not been kind to the NICU/PICU kids. There’s been a horrific pertussis outbreak. The pediatric cardiac PICU opened up with it filling up on day one. There’s even been a spate of random accidents that has caused kids to end up in the hospital.

The other night I literally broke down when I went to check on pre-school aged patient named Xavier and found his school aged sibling in bed with him reading Harry Potter to him.

“Hey buddy. What are you reading?” I asked the big brother.

“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” he answered. “It’s about a boy who finds out he’s a wizard when he turns 11. Did you know that I’m 10 and a half?”

“I did not know that” I mused to the big brother.

“I’m in charge now so I gotta make sure Xavier knows how to read.”

“Why are you in charge? You are not an adult.”

“My mommy and daddy were in the accident too. They were coming to pick me up so I’m OK, but their car got smashed”

“Are they in the hospital too?” I inquired because it was now a little alarming that a 10 and a half year old was seemingly alone in the hospital room of his younger brother with no adults coming.

“Well my mommy died, but my dad is in a big-person hospital room like this one so he can’t come visit. That’s why I’m in charge. They always told me if anything ever happened to them, I was in charge of Xavier.”

“Well, you are doing an excellent job. Keep up the good work.”

I barely managed to escape the room before the tears began to flow. I went to visit my friend Wendy who worked in the adult trauma ICU. It was good to see her, but I was really there to inquire about Xavier’s dad. I got off the elevator on the 2nd floor right as the ‘Code Blue-Trauma ICU’ announcement echoed through the halls.

I follow the crowd and see Wendy elbows deep in a man’s chest. An overwhelming feeling of doom came over me that the patient was Xavier’s dad. About 40 minutes later, they stopped CPR–after all, it’s damned near impossible to do on a person with a flail chest and several other broken bones. Wendy came over, drenched in sweat.

“That sucked.” I knew the feeling all too well. We’ve been doing a lot of unsuccessful CPR in peds lately too. “His wife died yesterday–similar injuries. They were in a car crash. Drunk driver. In some ways, I think it’s good. I wouldn’t want to live knowing I killed my wife.”

“Wait, he was the one driving drunk?” I asked Wendy.

“yea, I’m just glad no one else was hurt. Amazingly the car he hit was empty.”

“Can you tell me his name? Someone else may have been in the car.”

“No, our trauma alert was for a male and female car accident victims. One male and one female.”

And I barely uttered the words aloud, ‘and our was for a 4 year old male’ when Wendy suddenly came to the realization of why I was in the adult part of the hospital “They had a kid with them!” she worked out and said probably a little too loud.

“Yea, he’s 4. Kid’s name is Xavier. He’s not in great shape right now, but you know how kids are, they bounce back pretty quick. I told his brother I’d come try to find out anything about his dad. He already knows about mom. Or at least on some level. The way he so nonchalantly said ‘my mommy’s dead’ makes me think he hasn’t processed it yet.”

“Oh that’s terrible. I don’t know how you do peds. This right here is why I stick with adults. I don’t feel sorry for him. He killed his wife and himself. I’d want to take those babies home with me and tell them they were safe.”

I went back to the 5th floor–Pedi land–we called it to distinguish it from the adult part of the hospital. I didn’t know what I was going to say to Xavier’s brother; I didn’t even know his name.

Much too frequently I get that comment “I could never do peds” comment a lot along with “I’d want to take those babies home.” I’m sure everyone who works in pediatrics has their own reasons for gravitating towards that speciality, but mine is pretty simple.; I don’t often do a good job explaining it but I want to be the adult I never had, even if it’s for a 12 hour shift. I can be the adult that reads to a kid or plays ‘basketball’ with teenage boys or paint fingernails with girls. Yes, my work is serious and they wouldn’t be here if they weren’t really sick, but having an adult treat them like a whole person is an easy thing yet so many don’t do it.

I went back to Xavier’s room. His brother had fallen asleep reading to him. I pulled a blanket up over him and took the book and put it on the bedside table. One more night of having his world intact because in the morning *someone* will have to tell him he really is in charge of Xavier because both his parents are dead.

And on my way out after my shift, I stopped by the director’s office and formally asked for a leave of absence. It was granted and I left the hospital unsure of when I might return.

Frank Turner:  I Am Disappeared

My phone pinged and I looked at the name that flashed across my screen. “oh boy, this is going to be trouble,’ I said to myself. Michael, my first love, and ex-boyfriend was coming to a conference in my new city.

Our relationship ended because we wanted different things from life. He wanted to settle down in the same small town he grew up in and I wanted nothing more than to leave it. Michael wanted marriage; I wanted a relationship with my best friend. He wanted kids; I wanted a dog. Michael wanted the traditional white picket fence life, and I’m still not sure what I want. Despite all of our differences, I never stopped loving him.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to meet him. After all so much has happened since I last saw him. Jeremy. James. Chris. Justin. My core wants and desires haven’t changed. I still don’t want kids, and I’m pretty sure he still does. But for old times’ sake, and perhaps against my better judgment, I agreed to meet him.

We met for dinner and the conversation flowed easy. Five years older, hopefully wiser, I wondered if we were more compatible. He wasn’t Jeremy. And definitely not James. He was Michael and being with him felt like familiar flannel shirt.

I put a twenty on the table as Michael flagged down the server for the check. He pushed my money back towards me.

“I’ve got this,” he said as I got up to leave.

“Wait, let me walk you to your car.” he called out.

Walking next to Michael, I felt the familiar butterflies in my stomach, and that disconnected from my body feeling I sometimes get. It’s been a long time since I had butterflies. I never had them with Justin. Come to think of it, Chris gave me occasional butterflies–when we weren’t talking about work stuff.

Michael and I made small talk, but I don’t remember anything we said. “Well, goodnight,” I murmured, putting my hand on the car’s door handle.

Michael put his hand over mine and his other encircled my back. I leaned into him sideways, resting my head on his shoulder. He smelled like soap, clean and nice. We stood that way for a minute or so before, turning me towards him, he framed my face with his hands, and placed his mouth on mine. I leaned in, kissing him back.

Michael’s touch was strong and gentle, confident. We kissed again.

Separating, I looked up at his face. His gaze was soft. I imagine it mirrored mine.

“Now what?” This time he was murmuring.

“I don’t know”

Actually, I did know. If I followed him our reunion would be exactly like our last meeting, and if I didn’t, well nothing would happen. Either choice would end in my heart breaking all over again, but one choice would give me a night where the weight of loneliness wasn’t crushing my soul.

Taylor Swift: I Knew You Were Trouble