Comfort Zone

Chapter 58

"Dr. Gotlin, you're not leaving us, are you?"

"Why do you say that, Ms. Taft?"

"It's those Berlitz tapes I can see on your desk...you're learning French and Spanish? And the Frommer's guide. By the way, I like the new exam room decorations. They have just enough pizzazz but aren't over the top."

After much thought, Miriam had decided to write a letter.

To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing on behalf of Miriam Gotlin. Dr. Gotlin has worked extremely hard the last few years, and has shown unmistakable signs of stress and burnout. She is presently expressing a desire to regain her joie de vivre. I am therefore writing to recommend that she be given a leave of absence, aka a long vacation, to attend to her mental health. Without it, I believe she risks stagnation or worse. I hope you will excuse her for this reason.

It you require any further information please do not hesitate to contact me. Thank you very much for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Miriam Gotlin, M.D.

Miriam discussed several options with Tatiana, hiding behind a tree in the courtyard while Tatiana snuck a cigarette. Maybe being a solo practitioner was akin to being one of Herbie's dinosaurs, maybe it wasn't necessary to do it all on their own. There was more power in a partnership or group, and the future of medicine was likely in them. They could join forces and merge practices, or sell to the hospital, though Miriam suspected Quest's offer was no longer open.

There was even a rumor that JK was coming back; maybe they could join with him. They could even close their practices altogether and do temp work around the globe. For all their complaints, doctors were rarely unemployed.

Miriam watched a group of ibises pecking for food in the narrow green bridge of grass near the concrete walkway. Danger and optimism, the last to seek shelter from a storm, and the first to come out after, unafraid. Or maybe they were afraid, but came out anyway, together. Who said life is supposed to be safe and easy? she could imagine them saying.

Even after the brainstorming session, neither could decide, except to put off any decision for a while. Miriam would talk to Belle and the rest of her staff and get their input, and Tati would do the same, and Miriam would take a vacation. She could almost hear her yoga teacher explaining that shavasana, corpse pose, the class's final relaxation, was considered by the ancients to be the most important pose, though also the hardest.

Why the hardest?

Because it wasn't easy to surrender your effort. It took courage to give up control, to realize things would go on without your help, and to believe that support would be there for you when you let go.

"But when you do," she'd said, "you can find shavasana in every pose."

Miriam knew a break would help, and Tatiana had promised to (puff, puff) whip her patients into shape while she was gone.

I should just chuck it all, close the practice and move out of Florida, she thought that night while cooking dinner, using a recipe Ms. V had given her when they first met.

It's really the only way. Make a bold new start. Maybe a new career entirely, she began to fantasize. A less stressful one, without patients. Just forget about them altogether. Ezzy was right. Practicing medicine was awful.

But Miriam suddenly thought back to her last talk with Ursula Taylor, standing near the elevator.

"You know," the other doctor had said, "after my wrist heals and the incision from the chest tube fades, what I'll remember is that you came to visit me every day. You examined me, touched me. You cared, even when I suspected you of God knows what. You know, we have so little time these days to sit with patients. But we have to reclaim it! Strip medicine of its role of listening, and trying to answer those deeper questions--am I OK? Is what I'm feeling normal? Am I alone in this or do I have support? Does anyone understand or care how I feel?--well, we might as well be replaced by robots, by AIs.

"Besides, connecting is what makes medicine fun!"

And that made her think about what a patient had said. Francis Mayer, after showing off his tattoo and warning her that his scary lawyer might call for an appointment.

"Your letter's famous among my friends. I showed it to everyone after the charges were dropped. I boasted that I had a doctor I connected with, who cared enough to visit me in jail. Everyone thought the letter was a hoot. They laughed—then they went out and some got tested and treated.

"You know, we're getting too old for this shit, I told them. Some of us never expected to reach this age, but we did. What use are we?" He'd sounded like Herbie.

Lawrence Gill, on the other hand, hadn't fared as well. The police called, but no, he hadn't died, he'd been caught selling his oxycodone to an undercover cop. Miriam silently apologized to the DEA about this particular case at least. She couldn't write a letter exonerating him.

He'd have to save himself.

Miriam lined up the vegetables on her counter, got the spices out and started chopping away, when she saw the parade of ants advancing on the carrots. Not too many, just a few wiggling their back ends, approaching bravely if foolishly.

Miriam looked at them and shook her head.

"You cared," she heard Ursula say. "Let's not stop doing what we do. It matters."

Medicine. Awful. But sometimes awesome, and it was those highs, those intermittent rewards, that drew you back for more.

She looked at the ants again and in a quick movement reached for a jar and put a speck of honey on the counter, just a tiny speck.

She suddenly realized she wouldn't leave for good.

If she didn't return, who would feed her ants?