CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The ER was hopping when I reported for work. Ambulances were double parked, and the walking wounded milled around in the waiting room.

I needed to ask Morrison for time off to attend Pam's funeral. I was sure he wouldn't make it easy on me. Morrison had assigned me to pediatrics again, but I was beginning not to mind so much. I treated three patients in the first hour and five in the second. I finally had a few minutes to sit down and catch up on my charts.

Morrison was working the adult side and sat next to me with a stack of his own charts. I figured now was as good time as any to ask Morrison for the time off.

"Dr. Morrison, I'm going to need some time off. The police officer who was shot and killed was a good friend. I want to attend the funeral if that won't be a problem."

Morrison didn't respond. He continued his charting, flipping pages back and forth, signing a few, then closing the chart.

"Dr. Morrison?"

"What is it, Caselli?"

"I need some time off Tuesday to attend a funeral. I'm scheduled day shift and I want to-"

"I heard you the first time, Caselli," Morrison snapped. "Look, being a physician is not a nine-to-five job. We work long hard hours for a reason. It makes us strong and we learn to make difficult decisions under great amounts of stress. Being a physician also means making personal sacrifices. Sometimes we don't always get what we want. Sometimes our jobs take precedence." His voice was stern without a trace of sympathy.

I was fuming inside. A simple yes or no would have sufficed, but this gas bag insisted on giving me a lecture. "So what you're saying is I can't have the time off?"

"Well, is the deceased a close relative?"

"No."

"Then I don't think your situation falls under the hospital's policy," Morrison said smugly.

"Couldn't someone cover me for the few hours during the funeral?"

"Caselli, your priority and obligation is with this hospital and completing your residency. I'd hate to see something as trivial as this prevent you from doing that." Morrison returned to his charting.

I swallowed hard, trying to conceal my anger at Morrison, but it was no use. Anger abducted my reasoning, and I let Morrison have it.

"Dr. Morrison, what I'm asking you is not unreasonable. No one is more dedicated to this profession than I am. I've worked my ass off to get to where I am today, and I've taken a lot of crap from you. I left a comfortable marriage and a job I loved to take a chance on living my dream of becoming a doctor, and I'm not going to let someone like you stand in my way," I blurted out.

The entire emergency room fell silent as if frozen in time. My anger had brought me to my feet and I stood over Morrison, trembling, waiting for his reply.

Morrison stood, leveling the playing field. "Dr. Caselli, this is neither the time nor the place to air your personal grievances. We will discuss this matter further in my office at the end of the shift." Morrison closed his last chart, slipped it into the chart rack, and walked away.

Slowly, the ER came back to life. Everyone within earshot was trying to look busy, acting as if they hadn't heard what had transpired between Morrison and me. I sat at the desk with my head in my hands. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I felt like I couldn't go on any further.

"Honey, don't let that angry little man get to you," Delores said.

"What?" I lifted my head, not sure where the comment was coming from.

"Dr. Morrison's been giving everyone a hard time since his wife left him last year," Delores said.

"His wife left him? I didn't even know he was married." I turned to Delores in surprise.

"Mm-hmm. They were married almost ten years when she up and left him for someone else."

"Wow, that had to be a big hit to his ego."

"You bet, and rumor has it, not that I'm in the habit of spreading rumors, but rumor has it that the person she left him for was a woman."

"You're kidding!"

Delores smiled. "But you didn't hear it from me," she whispered, picking up an arm full of old charts to take down to medical records.

That explained a lot of why Morrison was such a bear toward me. If his wife left him for another woman and he knew I was gay, surely anything I did would rub him the wrong way.

I didn't see Morrison the rest of the night. My relief came on at eleven thirty. Things had calmed down considerably since the beginning of the shift, so report only took ten minutes. I headed over to Morrison's office, feeling like I was about to face a firing squad. His door was closed, so I tapped gently, hoping he had forgotten about our meeting.

"It's open," he shouted through the heavy oak door.

Slowly, I turned the knob and let myself in. Morrison sat behind his desk, shuffling through a stack of papers, probably my expulsion papers. He looked as tired and weary as I felt. "Have a seat, Caselli," he said, without looking up, gesturing to one of the red leather chairs that sat opposite his desk. His voice was a low shallow drone.

The leather crinkled as I sat and waited for my punishment.

"Dr. Caselli, your behavior tonight was inexcusable," he began his reprimand. "I can understand you being upset about not getting something you've asked for, but the manner in which you handled it was extremely unprofessional."

"Dr. Morrison, I am very sorry for the way I handled things. I was wrong and regret my actions greatly."

"You were wrong, Dr. Caselli. Insubordinately wrong," Dr. Morrison said. "And unfortunately for you, insubordination is a serious offense. I have no choice but to discipline you for your actions."

Here it comes, I thought. He's going to boot me out of the program. I clenched my fists and hung my head, feeling beat down and defeated.

Morrison continued: "The residency program has specific protocols regarding how disputes are to be handled between residents and supervisors. Your outburst today was totally out of line. You've embarrassed me, as well as cast yourself in a professionally unfavorable light."

I didn't know what to say. He was right. What I had done was unprofessional. My reaction to his denial of my request had been more emotional than professional. And one of the first things they taught us in medical school was to check all emotions at the door, as they will surely impair a doctor's judgment.

"Dr. Caselli, you and I have had some disagreements in the past and I know I've been hard on you, but that's what makes good doctors. If this job was easy, everyone would do it." He paused for a moment. I'm sure he was enjoying this, putting me in my place. But his next statement proved me wrong.

Dr. Morrison looked across his desk at me. His gaze caught mine. "Caselli, you're a good doctor and you have the potential to be a great doctor, but you need to understand that respect for one's colleagues is crucial if you want to practice medicine successfully."

Morrison looked down at his folded hands that rested on top of a pile of papers on his cherry wood desk. A look of tired sadness passed over his face. "I may have forgotten those principals, as well. I have been hard on you, but sometimes perhaps due to personal issues that are entirely out of your control and none of your concern."

Shocked by his admission, I didn't know what to say. I wondered if I should mention that I'd heard the rumors of his wife leaving. I was worried I'd be overstepping my boundaries as his employee.

Awkward silence hung in the air between us. Finally, Morrison spoke. "You may have heard that my wife...left." His voice was unsteady and wavering.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. I have. And I'm sorry." I felt terrible for the guy.

"She took our children and moved to Colorado."

"That must have been very hard for you. Colorado is pretty far from here."

Morrison nodded. "That's not the entire story."

A warning voice whispered in my head; here it comes.

"Dr. Caselli, my wife left me to be with another woman." By the look on his face, saying those words took all the courage he could muster.

"I see." The leather chair creaked as I changed positions. "Again, I'm sorry this happened to you and your family."

Morrison nodded. "I thought because you are..." Morrison hesitated.

"A lesbian," I finished for him.

"Yes, that maybe you had some insight into this. Like how can you be married to someone for ten years, then all of the sudden realize that you're gay? How can you be married and have three children with someone and have this happen?"

"Well, sir, it happens. It happened to me and my husband. We were married for almost six years when I met someone. But you have to understand that it doesn't just happen. It's something that I struggled with for a long time. I'm sure your wife has struggled with it, as well."

"But if this is something she was struggling with, why did she get married and have children?"

"Probably because she met you and fell in love with you, in spite of her inner conflict. Probably because she was taught it was the right thing to do. We all want to do the right thing, even if it conflicts with out innermost feelings or desires."

Dr. Morrison sat back in his leather desk chair. He seemed more relaxed now. More relaxed than I'd ever seen him.

"Just remember one thing," I said.

Dr. Morrison looked up. "What's that?"

"That none of this is your or your wife's fault. Being gay isn't something that's done to someone. You didn't make her gay. But you need to accept the fact that she is. She can't change who she is. It's not a choice to be gay. Trust me, I don't know of too many people that would choose this for themselves. Accepting that you're gay is a difficult thing. You risk losing your family, your friends, and sometimes your job. But it also can be a wonderful thing."

"How's that?"

"When you finally admit to yourself who you are and that it's okay to be who you are," I said. "It was hard, but the people in my life that mattered most to me stood by my side. And that's all that matters. And today, my being gay is not an issue anymore, personally or professionally. I have yet to have a patient request another doctor because of my sexual orientation."

Dr. Morrison nodded. He arranged the papers on his desk in a neat pile and looked up at me. "I'm sorry we got off track, Dr. Caselli. It's getting late and I guess we should finish up the business that brought you here in the first place." Dr. Morrison visibly slipped back into his professional persona.

I sat up in the leather chair, awaiting his decision on my punishment.

Dr. Morrison cleared his throat. "Dr. Caselli, if you can assure me that you have learned an important lesson from this and that it won't happen again, I think we can amend this issue with as minimal punishment as policy allows." He paused for a moment. "Can you assure me that this will never happen again?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." Any anger I was harboring toward him had evaporated. I felt sorry for him because I knew he had a long way to go until he'd reconcile with his situation.

"Fine," Dr. Morrison said. "The minimum punishment for insubordination is a three-day suspension without pay. Because this is your first offense, I will reduce it to a one-day suspension. Your suspension will be in effect Tuesday morning at zero six hundred hours," Morrison continued. "I would have started your punishment tomorrow, but I need you to report for your regular shift because I need you to be in charge while I'm out of town at a meeting."

When I looked up at him, our gazes met, and I could see he knew exactly what he was doing.

"I will, sir, thank you, sir."

"Don't take my lenience as a sign of weakness. You mess up again and you'll be in big trouble."

"I understand, sir. It won't happen again." I stood to leave. Morrison stood, as well, and followed me to the door. He reached for the doorknob.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mina."

"Thank you, sir," I said. "I'm sorry for you loss, too. I hope things work out for the best."

"Thank you." Dr. Morrison opened the door. I quietly walked out into the hall, stunned at what had just transpired. This made me rethink my impression of Dr. Morrison considerably. Maybe Morrison wasn't such a bad guy after all. Maybe he was just going through some tough times, and just like the rest of us, trying to hold on to whatever we can.

The next morning, I met up with Page in the women's locker room.

"Hey, I heard you and Morrison got into it yesterday. What happened?" Page asked as we changed into scrubs.

"I went off on him in front of the entire staff."

"Oh, my God, are you crazy? He could've kicked you out of the program for that. What were you arguing about?"

"I asked him for time off tomorrow to attend Pam Grier's funeral. He denied me the time, saying I wasn't a dedicated enough doctor and that I needed to put medicine first. I couldn't take it anymore, so I let him have it. It just wasn't the most appropriate time or place."

"So what happened?"

"He suspended me."

"Oh, my God, you're kidding."

"Nope." I shook my head. "He suspended me for insubordination."

"So if he suspended you, what are you doing here this morning?"

"Well...he said he's at a meeting today and he needs me to hold down the fort here. The suspension won't start until tomorrow."

Page finished dressing first and walked over to the coffeepot and poured each of us a cup of coffee.

"Wait a minute...isn't that the day you wanted off originally?"

"Yep."

"Oh, my God, Mina...how did you manage that?"

"I didn't manage anything."

"I think Dr. Morrison likes you."

"Page, please."

"Mina, he could have kicked you out of the program. I think he has a crush on you," Page teased.

"Page!"

"Sorry, I just think it's funny. All this time you think the guy has it in for you and the opposite turns out to be true."