A Rose by Any Another Name

Shortly after my lunch break, the day took a turn for the worse. We got a new patient, two-year-old Dylan who suffered from epilepsy and had been rushed to the hospital by ambulance with high fever and seizures. The paramedics had been able to stop the seizures on their way to the ER but the doctors wanted him to stay for observation so Mike and I admitted him when he came up to the ward with his mom. He was tired and overwhelmed but his mom kept up her courage - of course, it wasn't the first time this happened but I also got the feeling that she wanted to stay strong for her son or that she didn't want to show me how much the situation had affected her.

She made herself comfortable in the hospital bed with Dylan right next to her, turned on the TV and switched channels until she found a children's show that I didn't recognize. A tear rolled down her cheek while she told us how the seizures had started, but she quickly wiped it off.

"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I'm overreacting. I mean, I know he is fine now but it looks just as scary every time even though I've seen it happen before."

"You don't have to apologize," I assured her and gently placed my hand on hers. "I can't imagine what it must be like."

"She's right," Mike agreed. "I would have reacted the same way."

"I'm just so tired," she said. "These past hours have drained me of all my energy."

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" I suggested. "I'll come back in a while to see how you're doing."

"Thank you," she said and squeezed my hand. "I really appreciate it."

She closed her eyes almost immediately and Mike and I quietly left the room. He went back to his office and I sat down in front of my computer in the nursing office to start writing Dylan's admission note. It took about half an hour before the emergency alarm went off. The loud shrill startled me and I ran out to the corridor to see if it was a false alarm as usual, but when I saw two of my colleagues rolling Dylan's bed into the treatment room I got a big lump in my throat. I had never seen someone having a seizure in real life and it really did look just as scary as his mother had told me. He was unconscious, his body was shaking violently and his eyes had rolled back. His mom hurried after the bed, crying and trying to hold his hand. One of the nurses sat down with her and tried to calm her down as Mike came running and joined us in the treatment room.

"We need to secure his airway and apply high flow oxygen," he said and looked at my colleagues who immediately tilted Dylan's head backwards and put a little facemask over his mouth and nose. Then he turned to me. "Rose, I need a dextrose IV and 1.3 milligrams of intravenous lorazepam."

"I'm on it," I said and hurried to the drug cabinet. My hands and legs were trembling but I somehow managed to prepare the IV fluids, find the lorazepam, attach a needle to a syringe and fill it with the right amount. I attached the dextrose IV into one of Dylan's IV lines and slowly injected the lorazepam into the other one but nothing happened. He was still shaking uncontrollably and tears were running down his mother's face. I looked up at Mike, wondering what to do next.

"Pull up another 1.3 milligrams," he ordered, and I did as I was told. When Mike realized the second injection hadn't helped either, I could sense the fear in his voice.

The following hour felt like a nightmare. We intubated Dylan and tried different drugs but none of them managed to stop the seizure. His blood pressure dropped and even though we did everything we could, his heart eventually stopped beating and we started CPR. Everything felt so surreal as I stood next to his lifeless little body, pressing down his chest with one palm, trying to save his life while his mother was screaming hysterically in the background. It felt like the world had stopped turning, like we were all in a bubble where nothing mattered anymore, until Mike grabbed a tray with empty syringes and threw it against the wall in frustration.

"Fuck!" he screamed and buried his face in his hands.

The nurse who was performing the chest compressions looked up at Mike.

"Stop CPR," Mike said in a hoarse voice. "Time of death 2:53 P.M."

I have never felt as powerless and heartbroken as I did when Dylan's mom threw herself over him and held his pale little face in her trembling hands. The desperate cry of a mother who had just lost her child was unlike anything I had ever heard, and it still haunts me to this day. I had seen patients die before but this was completely different. This was a beautiful two-year-old boy whose life had been taken away from him before he had even started to live it.

I didn't know what to say or do. I felt so empty inside that I couldn't even cry. Dylan's face was covered in his mother's tears and his lips were already turning blue. I turned around looking for Mike but he wasn't there so I instinctively went to his office. When I opened the door, I found him sitting on the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks. I got down on my knees and held him in my arms as he buried his face in my neck and cried inconsolably.

"I couldn't save him," he sobbed and I hugged him even harder.

"You did everything you could," I said, trying to keep myself from crying so that I could stay strong for him. "You tried your best. We all did."

"It wasn't enough!" he yelled. "He was just a baby! I was supposed to keep this from happening!"

"You can't save everyone," I whispered. "I know it's horrible - I've never experienced anything this awful in my entire life - but you can't blame yourself. Please, don't. You're the most amazing person I know. I can't stand seeing you like this."

"You don't get it," he said, frustrated. "This is what I never knew how to tell you. It's why I decided to become a doctor, so that I could keep this from happening again!"

"Keep what from happening again?" I asked, confused.

He broke down in tears again. I cupped his face gently in my hands.

"Please, Mike," I pleaded, no longer able to hold back my tears. "Tell me. I want to know."

He hesitated for a moment before looking me in the eyes.

"That girl in the photo I keep in my wallet..." he started. "Autumn."

"Your niece?" I asked.

"My daughter," he whispered.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Your daughter?"

"She would have been thirteen now," he sniveled.

This was definitely not what I had expected him to say, but now that he had told me I realized that it all made sense. I took his hands in mine and caressed them.

"What happened?" I asked.

"She got leukemia," he said, holding his tears back. "She was the same age as Dylan when she died."

He leaned his head against my chest and I embraced him, hoping I would be able to give him at least a little comfort as he let me into an important portion of his life.

"I loved her so much," he said, his voice vibrating in my chest. "We both did. We didn't plan to have a baby but when she was born, it was like I finally understood the meaning of life. And then she got sick and nothing made sense anymore. She was the most amazing little person ever and I kept wondering what we could possibly have done to deserve this."

I didn't know what to say so I just caressed him and kept listening.

"We spent her last months at the children's hospital," he continued. "We knew she wasn't going to make it but it still felt surreal, you know? When we lost her I decided to become a pediatrician so that I could help other children. I failed him today, Rose. I should have been able to save him."

I gently wiped his tears away with my thumb and stroke his hair.

"Life is really unfair," I admitted. "I'm not even going to pretend to understand why things like this happen. But can you imagine how many lives you have already saved since you became a doctor? It's impossible to have a perfect track record, but I'm sure that Autumn is watching over you and that she is so proud of you. You did everything you could today, and that's all anyone could ask for."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over this," he said, looking worried. "It changed my life and whenever something reminds me of her, I break down completely. That's why I didn't want to tell you. I'm so messed up, Rose."

"Maybe you're not supposed to get over it," I suggested. "You can't pretend like it never happened. It's okay to be sad or angry, and it's probably just healthy to cry about it from time to time. You just need to find a way of accepting it, a way of coping."

"I can't accept it," he said. "I don't want to. I've never even been to her grave on my own, I just go when Emily does because I have to be strong for her. I hold myself together when I'm with her but I'm afraid of how I would react if I went there alone."

"Maybe you need someone to be strong for you," I insinuated.

Mike didn't answer and I didn't want to push him, so I held him in my arms for a while.

"I have to go talk to his mom, don't I?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I'll go with you."

He closed his eyes for a minute and we sat there, on the floor, just listening to each other breathe.

"I love you, Rose," he whispered.

"I love you, too," I said and planted a soft kiss in his hair.

I don't know if I was surprised or not but Mike handled the conversation with Dylan's mom as well as the rest of his shift really well. We had a debriefing session together with all the nurses and doctors who had been involved in Dylan's case and although Mike didn't say anything, he sat through it all until the end. I had gotten a glimpse of Mike's vulnerable side before but this time it was different. Even though he put up a wall and tried not to look more affected than the others, I could see right through him and it felt as though he was someone else entirely. He wasn't the strong, secure and competent man I had gotten to know, the man who would take control of any situation in a matter of seconds and deal with anything life threw at him. Today, for the first time, I saw a different side of him, a side that he had tried to hide from everyone for the past eleven years. A lost, heartbroken man who had closed himself off from the world and who never got the support he needed to cope with the loss of his daughter. It hurt me to see him in so much pain and I wanted nothing more than to help him but I didn't know how and I was afraid I might unintentionally push him so much that he would close himself off from me as well.

We went back to his place after the debriefing session and I cooked his favorite dinner in an attempt to cheer him up, even if it was just a little. We ate in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. I wanted to talk about his daughter but I wanted him to take the initiative. I needed to be reassured that he knew he could share anything with me and that I would do everything to help him. Just when I was starting to give up on that thought, he put his fork down on the table and looked at me.

"I want to show you something," he said and went to the bedroom.

He came back a few seconds later with a white shoe box that he handed to me.

"What is it?" I asked, but he didn't answer my question.

"I haven't opened it in a really long time," he said instead. "I just... I can't do it."

A tear rolled down his cheek. I leaned closer to him and wiped it away with my thumb. He took my hand in his and squeezed it.

"I want you to do it," he whispered. "I want to share this with you."

My heart literally skipped a beat when I opened the box and saw all the things Mike had saved as a reminder of Autumn. A pacifier, a rattle, a tiny pink pyjama, an overused stuffed bunny that looked like it had never been washed, a couple of hair clips, a bracelet with plastic beads, an identification band from the hospital and the smallest pair of Converse I had ever seen. Suddenly it all felt so real. The feeling of powerlessness from when we lost Dylan came back to me and I realized there was no way I could ever understand what it must feel like to lose your own child. I carefully picked up the pyjama and unfolded it. It looked like a newborn size so I assumed it must have been one of her very first outfits.

"That's what she wore when we brought her home from the hospital," Mike said in a low voice. "We bought it as soon as we found out we were having a girl. Right after the ultrasound, actually. Emily was so happy, she had always dreamed of having a daughter."

"I can't believe how tiny it is," I said. "It's adorable!"

"It was way too big for her," Mike said with a nostalgic smile on his face. "Her feet kept getting lost in the legs. It didn't take long before she outgrew it, though."

"They tend to do that," I chuckled.

"This is from the maternity ward, too," he said and picked up the identification band. "You know, the day she was born was the happiest day of my life. I have never been prouder than when I saw her for the first time."

I wasn't sure what to say so I took his hand in mine and caressed his palm with my finger. He seemed a little absent for a while, probably reminiscing about Autumn, but then he looked at the box again and reached for the hair clips.

"She had beautiful brown hair," he said and smiled. "Just like Emily." Suddenly the smile on his lips disappeared and he got teary-eyed. "Before chemo, that is. That fucking chemo."

I put my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him but he startled as I touched him.

"I'm okay," he said even though he clearly wasn't. He picked up the Converse, trying to change the topic. "She got these from Kevin. Best gift ever!"

I tried to picture Mike and Kevin with a newborn Autumn thirteen years ago but it wasn't easy. Granted, Mike and Emily were young when they had her but I wasn't even a teenager yet.

"This one was her favorite," he said and picked up the stuffed bunny. "She used to bring it everywhere she went."

He buried his nose in the rabbit's neck and inhaled deeply.

"It still smells like her," he sighed, his bottom lip trembling. "I slept with it in my arms the first few weeks after she died. Well, I didn't actually sleep. I spent every night crying, hoping it was all just a nightmare that I would wake up from, and she would still be there."

He broke into tears and before I had the chance to put my arms around him, he got up and started walking toward his bedroom.

"Mike, wait!" I called out and leapt up from the couch.

He closed the door behind him and I hesitated for a second but decided to go in anyway. I found him on the floor, crying helplessly with his head resting in his hands, facing away from me. I sat down next to him and softly put my hand on his knee.

"Don't," he said. "You're making it too hard."

"I just want to be there for you," I murmured. "I don't want you to have to go through it alone."

"I've gone through it alone this past decade," he snapped. "I don't need your help."

His words pierced through me like knives and I was so taken aback that I didn't know what to say. This was really the last thing I expected to hear from him.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he apologized. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I tried to share all of this with you and... I don't know, it's just too hard. This isn't me, I'm not like this at all."

"Maybe it's a good thing," I suggested.

"Then why doesn't it feel that way?" he asked with a resigned look on his face.

"It doesn't happen overnight," I said. "Things like this take time, but we'll get through it together, I promise."

"That's just it," he said, refusing to look me in the eyes. "It's not your problem to get through. It's mine, and I need to do this my way."

"Your way?" I exclaimed, frustrated. "You mean by ignoring it? By bottling all your feelings up until another one of your patients die and you explode again? By closing yourself off from everyone and having meaningless sex to numb the pain? That's a fucking amazing solution!"

Mike stared at me, looking angry and hurt at the same time, but he didn't say anything.

"Well?" I demanded. "Let me know, Mike, because I'm not going to stay here and watch you ruin your life because you're so damn proud you can't even admit that you need help."

"Nobody is forcing you to stay," he raged. "If you want to leave, you know your way out."

Exasperated, I threw the stuffed bunny at him, grabbed my purse and left, slamming the door behind me. I broke into tears in the elevator and considered going back to apologize, but I was so hurt and disappointed by the fact that he wouldn't let me help him despite all my efforts that I decided not to. It had been a long day and I had been so worried about Mike that I hadn't had time to deal with my own feelings and reactions to Dylan's unexpected death. Since he was the only person I actually wanted to talk to about it, I went home, climbed into bed, pulled the covers over my head and fell asleep.

I was a little anxious to see Mike at work the following day. I couldn't stand being in a fight with him and even though I didn't really think I had done anything wrong, I wanted to apologize for being insensitive so that we could make up and go back to our normal life. I knew I could never truly understand what he was going through and that the best thing might actually be to back off a little.

To my surprise, he wasn't at work when I got there. I waited for half an hour before asking the head nurse who told me he had called in sick during the night and didn't know when he would be back. My first thought was that he must have been upset about the night before, but after having sent several text messages without receiving a reply, I realized he might have been avoiding me.

The day felt like an eternity since I couldn't stop thinking about Mike and wondering if this meaningless fight might actually be enough for him to break up with me. When my shift was finally over I went straight to his apartment, convinced that the only thing to do was to talk things through, but he didn't answer when I knocked and all the lights seemed to be turned off. I tried calling him but he didn't pick up so I sent him a message telling him that I would be waiting outside his apartment and sat down on the floor, leaning my head against the door. I was desperate to see him and I figured that wherever he had gone, he would have to come back sooner or later. I ended up staying outside his apartment for several hours, trying to use the time to check my emails and read a novel that I always carried in my purse but never had time to read. I didn't get much done, though, because I couldn't stop thinking about Mike. I couldn't decide if I was worried about him or angry that he'd just take off like this after our first fight without a single word. The thought of calling Kevin crossed my mind but I wasn't too keen on telling him what had happened the day before and besides, I didn't think my introverted boyfriend would call his best friend to talk, the way I would have called Nicole.

Way past dinner time, I decided to give up, mostly because I had to be at work early the next day and I knew I needed to rest even if I was too worried to be able to sleep. I slipped a note under his door telling me to call him and reluctantly went back home. Just like I had foreseen, I spent most of the night awake, worrying and wondering where he might be. All kinds of catastrophic thoughts crossed my mind at one point or another. Had he sought comfort from his ex-girlfriend and realized he was still in love with her? Had he hurt himself in some way? Had he tried to commit suicide? Part of me thought something must have happened since he hadn't contacted me. I knew I had upset him, but surely he wouldn't just leave without a trace? Was he really that messed up?