Visiting China is now okay, I stated, stiffening my back and imagining myself, as the doorman had taught me, in the center of an elevator going up. Borders are open and international relations, at least superficially, are not awful. But had I forgotten to submit a travel form to them or to the internal board of review?
She said it wasn’t that, and I could visit China as much as I liked. Neither HR nor the IRB was the TSA.
A toss-up, who had more power in this hospital, HR or the IRB or accounts payable, though each group would probably name itself. Had I ever met an IRB or an accounts payable employee? No. And this was the closest I’d ever been to any HR personnel.
I asked if her coming today had anything to do with Wuhan.
Wuhan?
I stayed in Shanghai and nowhere else, I said. I explained that the two cities are far apart and as different as Omaha and Manhattan. Wuhan being Omaha, an inland city filled with nice midwestern people who took on industry jobs and believed in a hard day’s work. It isn’t their fault, I said abruptly, about the situation now developing there.
She raised her eyebrows and asked which situation was I referring to?
The fish market, the bats.
She repeated the word bats, then looked down at my folder. There’s nothing here about bats, she said. Or fish markets. She closed the folder and looked back at me with a new kindness. Our main concerns for you are less global, should we say, and more focused. Our concerns are twofold and with that she held up two fingers like the peace sign or like V for victory. The first, that from mid-October to now, a period of almost twelve weeks, I’d taken no full weeks off. Attendings must take off-service weeks, or else the workflow in the community becomes imbalanced. The second, that I had resumed work right after my China trip, a personal trip of great importance, a pilgrimage effectively to bid goodbye to my father, and had not taken the recommended one month leave of bereavement.
Bereavement?
A person only has one father.
I said I was aware.
Then were you not aware of the leave? It’s been a great initiative for our senior staff members with aging parents. We believe that even most well-seasoned health professionals should grieve.
I did know about the leave, I said, but thought it was optional.
The woman smiled at me again, but it could have also been a grimace. Despite her uneven eyes, she had one of those perfectly level mouths, of which the corners didn’t turn up or down.
Strictly speaking the leave was optional, as she explained, and could be waived for distant relatives, an aunt or uncle, a second cousin. But immediate family made up our core supports, our pillars, and those deep in grief, more or less lost in it, often don’t know how to feel about the death unless they take the full course of treatment.
I clarified that she was talking about bereavement and not an infection.
Bereavement is a wound, she said.
It was, but mine had healed. I’d worked through it already.
The woman took out a small tin of mints from her other blazer pocket and ate one. She didn’t offer me any mints and slid the tin back. In case it wasn’t clear, your month off would be compensated, and at your new elevated rate. You would simply be flagged as unavailable in the system. The time is meant for you to spend however you wish.
I said I wanted to be available at all hours. I felt that giving in to this request was giving in to pity, and my father wouldn’t have approved. He would have reminded me that there’s no such thing as a free lunch.
We see this a lot, actually, said the woman, crossing her legs. Doctors who refuse to rest as if it were a sign of weakness, but it’s not. Stopping momentarily to reassess, recenter, release—the three Rs—is actually a sign of strength.
I asked what would happen if I forwent bereavement.
Technically, nothing, she said, but we cannot guarantee absolutely nothing down the line. No one has refused leave once it’s been suggested, so should you pursue this path, you would be the first.
Beneath the blazer, the woman wore a yellow blouse that was stretched so tightly across her chest it reminded me of a cushion.
We are not trying to inconvenience you, said Yellow Cushion. We are only trying to help. Compared with other hospitals of our caliber, our attendings report being the most fulfilled. Research has shown that healthy attendings do better work and are protected from the forces of pettiness, internal competition, and deindividualization. This time is our gift to you. Consider it the hospital’s way of reaching its arms out and giving you a hug.
* * *
—
MY LEAVE IN TOTAL would be six weeks, and that included the one month of bereavement along with two off-service weeks to make up for the many I had forgone. The leave was to start immediately on Monday, January 20, through all of February and the first week of March. Before Yellow Cushion left, she handed me a notice sheet with these logistical details bulleted out, including which attendings would be covering for me on each of the six weeks. The sheet was so unambiguous and well organized that it reminded me of one of my own handouts and I couldn’t get too mad. Then Madeline came in to pack up for the day and asked why I was just sitting there, holding a piece of paper and not facing my monitor again. I glanced at her. I didn’t reply.