The Missing Guests of the Magic Grove Hotel, page 15
Ladarat knew better than to try to offer reassurance. Such empty reassurances or—worse—empty optimism wasn’t helpful. It either accomplished nothing or it raised false hopes.
It might make the doctor or the nurse feel better, saying, “Oh, don’t worry. Everything will work out. You’ll be fine.” That might make a nurse feel as though she’s doing something, and saying such things was an excellent way for a busy doctor to make a graceful exit from a patient’s room. But such empty reassurances didn’t accomplish anything.
Besides, Ladarat trusted Melissa’s intuition. In the same way that detectives—even amateur detectives—could tell whether a case was suspicious, in her experience, patients often knew that there was a problem long before tests discovered what was wrong.
She’d read a study once, in fact, that found that the most sensitive indicator for a pulmonary embolus—a blood clot in the arteries of the lung—was not a change in X-rays or even a drop in the patient’s blood oxygen. No, the most sensitive indicator was the fact that the patient felt an unexplained sense of anxiety. So if Melissa felt that something was wrong, and that her cancer had come back, well … unfortunately, that was a very good possibility.
“If it is bad news, what will you do?”
Melissa nodded as if that was a question she’d been thinking about a lot. But she answered with another question. “Do you think I should go home, Khun?”
“Do I think …?” Ladarat was flustered. “It’s not up to me, Khun. I couldn’t answer that question.”
Melissa nodded again. “Of course, you can’t. And I didn’t mean to ask you an impossible question. But … it would just help to talk through this with someone.”
Ladarat was tempted to point out—again—that this was hypothetical. Maybe Melissa’s cancer hadn’t returned. Maybe this was a stomach ulcer or a gallstone. Such things happened to women of their age.
But that wouldn’t do. Melissa was one of those people who needed to plan. She needed to think through her options. So Ladarat would help her.
“So … if you were to go home …”
“Yes?”
“What is home like? Tell me—where do you live? Who is there?”
“Well, I don’t live anywhere, at the moment. I sublet my apartment for a year. I figured I’d be traveling, and I’d use the rent to help offset some of my expenses. It was the difference between staying in hostels and decent hotels.”
“So if you were to go home, you’d have nowhere to stay?”
Melissa thought for a moment. “Well, I might be able to move back into my apartment. It wouldn’t be nice, but it could be possible. Or I could stay with friends. But not if I were very sick. I wouldn’t want to burden anyone.”
“Do you have family?”
“I have a sister in Tenby—that’s in the far western part of Wales, where I grew up. Now I live in Cardiff—that’s the capital city. I have friends there, of course. But no family nearby.”
“So who would help care for you … if you got sicker? After a long trip home, you wouldn’t feel well …”
“Or as my cancer gets worse, you mean?” Melissa smiled.
Ladarat nodded. That was exactly what she meant. If in fact her cancer had really come back.
“I’m not sure how much I could ask my friends to do. It’s just a few of us who are close.” She paused, picking up a fork and toying with the remains of her kao mok gai.
“And besides, they have their own families, most of them. And a few are having troubles of their own. Health troubles, some of them. Or financial problems. So … I don’t know. I’d rely on our hospice. They have nurses to come to the house. And they have a hospice house—although not as nice as this one.” She looked down again, thinking. “Could I stay here?”
“Here? In this room?”
Melissa nodded. “It’s comfortable here. People are nice. There are great restaurants nearby that deliver.” She smiled and pointed to the food cartons that were scattered between them on the table. “And I know I won’t be a burden to anyone.”
“Well, it’s true that you’re not a burden. But this room—this unit—isn’t designed for people to stay for a long time.”
Most patients were admitted for a short period of time, until their symptoms were controlled. It wasn’t a place where people stayed for weeks or months.
But why not? That wasn’t the purpose, it was true. But it could be. And Melissa was well liked as a patient. If Dr. Taksin agreed, it could be possible.
So that’s what she told Melissa, that it might be possible, but that she should think about it. There might be someplace more comfortable, if she really didn’t want to go home.
“But the scan,” Ladarat asked. “When will you learn those results?”
“Today, Dr. Taksin said. Probably today.”
“Are you nervous about the results? I could come back later, perhaps with Chi?”
Melissa smiled and shook her head. “No, Khun. You are very kind. Too kind. You’ve brought me lunch, and company and good conversation. I already owe you a debt. How do you say it? Bunkhun?”
Ladarat smiled and nodded. “Bunkhun, yes, that’s how you say it. A debt of gratitude. Something owed in return for a gift. Or sometimes for help. But, Khun, there is no debt here. I’m a nurse. This is my job.”
Now it was Melissa’s turn to smile. “Your job? Truly? It’s your job to take your lunch hour and bring food to hungry patients and sit and talk with them? That’s a most unique job description.”
“So perhaps it isn’t exactly my job. Not all the time, at least. But it falls within the scope of my responsibilities. And it’s well within my scope of expertise—choosing the best dishes from the best vendors on Suthep Road. That is a specialty the hospital entrusts only to me. And one of those specialties is kanom maprao—coconut cake. It’s from Chanitnai the baker.”
Ladarat took the last container out of the plastic bag and cleaned up the paper plates and forks, using the bag for trash.
“She used to be in pharmacy school, but she dropped out to take care of her parents. Now she makes the best kanom maprao in all of Chiang Mai.”
Ladarat almost took that back as soon as she said it, because now there was Duanphen’s cousin Prasert, the ex-insurance salesman. His kanom maprao was excellent, too. Someday, she and Wiriya would have to do a taste test of the two.
“Chanitnai owns a bakery,” Ladarat continued, suppressing the vision of two servings of kanom maprao, from two bakers, on the same table. “But she’d rather be at the stalls out in front of the hospital. Here, I’ll leave this for you. It’s good to have some kanom maprao on hand. And it’s an excellent bribe for the nurses here. Everyone knows Khun Chanitnai’s baking skills.”
“Khun?”
Ladarat stopped partway to the door.
“I’ve been so busy talking about myself, I forgot to ask. Your cooking lesson with … Duanphen?” Ladarat nodded. “How did it go?”
Ladarat thought about that for a moment. True, they were not lessons so much as it was cooking with training wheels. But she did make something edible. Not just edible, but recognizable as food.
“It went well, thank you. Amazingly well, actually.”
“I’m glad to hear it. We should all try new things. New things that are a little scary. And especially new things that we don’t think we’ll do well at. So we can be surprised.”
Ladarat agreed that was true, and she promised to visit the following day. She thought about Melissa’s wisdom as she made her way back to the nurses’ kitchen to dispose of the plates and wash their mugs.
It made sense, of course, but Ladarat was surprised to hear that advice from someone like Melissa, who wanted to plan her life out, someone who wanted to know what the possibilities would be, and someone who was already thinking about who would take care of her in Cardiff.
On the other hand, this was the same woman who wanted to come to Southeast Asia so she could take one day a time. That was a strange mixture, was it not? This desire to plan, on one hand, and on the other, this call to go and do surprising things. Perhaps Melissa Double was trying to turn over a new leaf.
As she was pondering that possibility, Ladarat noticed that the door next to the nurses’ station was open. That was Dr. Taksin’s office. She’d never seen the door open. But now it was. Ladarat should take advantage of that opportunity, shouldn’t she? She should.
“Dr. Taksin?”
Oh, dear. It seemed that the doctor was not in the best condition to receive visitors. Facedown on the desk, his head rested on one forearm, while the other hand held a pen. In the space of however long the good Dr. Taksin had been asleep, the pen had traced an interesting pattern on the light wood surface of the desk, making it look like his head was smack in the middle of a map of a mysterious island.
“Dr. Taksin?”
Perhaps she had better leave. She should definitely leave.
But as she was considering whether it would be polite to close the door so as not to alarm passing patients or families, Dr. Taksin gave a start and rejoined the living.
“Ah, Khun Ladarat.” The poor doctor lifted his head off the desk with a suddenness that Ladarat wouldn’t have believed possible a moment before. He rubbed his eyes and blinked once, twice. Then he seemed to be perfectly awake. Perhaps that was a skill of doctors? Her late husband, Somboon, could wake up with the suddenness of a sunrise and fall asleep as abruptly.
“I … have been working, lately,” Dr. Taksin said.
“Working?”
Dr. Taksin shook his head as if to clear his mind. “Late work, I mean. That is to say, working late. Often very late.”
“But … the palliative care unit … it doesn’t seem busy.”
And indeed it didn’t. Ladarat had passed several empty rooms on her way to and from Melissa. The unit had the quiet, calm feeling that nurses loved: no frantic rushing around, and no matters requiring urgent attention. Surely there was not enough work so justify a doctor staying late enough to lose sleep?
“Ah, well, it is not work here, you understand.”
Ladarat didn’t. She admitted as much.
“It is … Would you promise not to tell anyone, Khun Ladarat?”
Hmmm. Ladarat was intrigued. What “job” could be so incriminating that she should be sworn to secrecy? That would be interesting indeed. But no.
“Ah, no, Dr. Taksin. Much as I would like to hear about your ‘job,’ that would put me in a difficult position, would it not?” Ladarat smiled firmly. “I am the hospital ethicist, am I not?”
The tired doctor nodded uncertainly.
“So you see, you might tell me things that I have an obligation to divulge to others. In my role as ethicist, you understand?”
Dr. Taksin didn’t. He shook his head.
“It is bad to promise not to divulge a secret, especially in my position, you see. You might tell me something bad, or dangerous, that I would have to share with your department chair … or the dean … or the police.”
Ladarat watched Dr. Taksin closely for signs of anxiety to cross his tired face. Signs of anxiety that would indicate a much bigger problem. But the doctor merely smiled as if he were enjoying a good joke.
“Oh, Khun Ladarat. I assure you that this is nothing that any of those people would waste their time with. And the police?” He laughed. “Let’s just say that they would approve entirely.”
“Then …?”
“Then why am I being so secretive? Well, it’s just not something that I would want generally known. And besides—” He waved a hand. “It doesn’t really matter. Not really. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
He thought for a moment, then remembered his manners.
“I’m so sorry, Khun. I’ve been sitting here talking …” He smiled. “And sleeping. But I haven’t asked you to sit, and I haven’t asked you why you’ve come to visit me.”
Dr. Taksin looked up at her curiously. He rubbed his eyes again, as if to make sure the hospital nurse ethicist was truly standing in front of him.
“No, it was nothing.” Ladarat thought quickly. What was to be gained by inventing a conversation about death? Surely she had learned what she needed to learn.
“Truly nothing. I was here to see Khun Melissa. The woman from England?” Dr. Taksin nodded.
“And I was passing by your office and … I thought perhaps you were sick.”
Ladarat shrugged. She would be the first to admit that she was an awful liar. But as a nurse ethicist, she’d always figured that an inability to hide a falsehood was probably one of her most notable strengths.
As Professor Dalrymple said, “Doctors have more power than nurses, but that power lets them withhold the truth. That’s why patients trust nurses more than doctors.”
“Well, thank you, Khun. But as I said, I’m just tired.” He thought for a moment more, then remembered Melissa Double.
“That patient—from England. You’re seeing her because …?”
“Ah, well, I’ve seen her twice with Chi, the therapy dog.”
Dr. Taksin nodded.
“And we got along very well. I promised her I would come back to see her again today. She is very intelligent, I thought. And very … wise.”
“Wise?” But Dr. Taksin was smiling. “I’ve noticed the same thing. She’s very … philosophical about her situation.”
Ladarat agreed that was a good way to put it. She’d never met anyone who had managed to adapt so well to what life had delivered to her. So well, in fact, that until that moment, Ladarat hadn’t really thought about what it must be like to be in her position.
“To work all of your life and then retire, only to be faced with a possible relapse like this,” Ladarat said, shaking her head. “That must be terrible.”
“And yet she doesn’t seem … daunted,” Dr. Taksin said. “She’s still reading books, and making friends, and planning to travel.”
“To travel?” This was news indeed.
Dr. Taksin shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I believe I heard her talking today about leaving the hospital.”
“To go home?”
Dr. Taksin shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think if she were going home, we would have to do much more planning. Arranging that sort of transport is time-consuming and expensive.” He paused. “Very expensive. She is not well and would need medical assistance for such a long trip. But she hasn’t discussed any of that with me or with the nurses. I think perhaps she may be thinking about checking out of the hospital to keep traveling.”
Really? This was very different than what Ladarat had heard just a few minutes ago. And besides, there was the matter of her scan. Speaking of which …
“She will need extra support when she gets her scan results. If the results are bad, of course,” she hastened to add.
Dr. Taksin looked confused. “Another scan? No, there will be no more. It’s obvious that her cancer has spread throughout her liver and to her lungs. It’s also around the lining of her abdomen, the peritoneum.”
“Would you like me to be there when you tell her?”
Dr. Taksin’s English was intelligible, but just barely. Surely for a conversation of this magnitude, it would be good to have Ladarat, or a translator, present.
The doctor looked confused. “When I tell her? But, Khun Ladarat, she knows already. Nurse Sudchada and I met with her this morning and explained everything.” He reflected for a moment. “And, you know, she didn’t seem very surprised. Sad, perhaps. Well, of course sad. But not as sad as I would have expected. And not surprised at all, to be honest. It was almost as if she knew the results of the scan before I told her.”
Ladarat nodded uncertainly as she realized that Melissa Double was not being entirely honest.
“And not only that she knew about the results,” Dr. Taksin added, “but that she’d already had a chance to get used to them, you know?”
Ladarat nodded. She’d been thinking the same thing about the woman she’d just left. That was not someone who had suddenly received unexpected news. The bad news was not a surprise, and it was news she’d been expecting. Nevertheless, she hadn’t been willing to share it with Ladarat.
What did that mean?
“Well, you will tell me if you think I can be helpful, won’t you?” she said. “Of course she is under a great deal of stress, even if she doesn’t show it. It might be helpful for her to have someone she could talk to easily in English.”
The doctor nodded, and Ladarat said goodbye, urging him to get a good night’s sleep, and the doctor smiled ruefully. “That’s unlikely, but I suppose it’s possible.”
Back out in the hallway, Ladarat made her way back down toward Melissa’s room, but the door was closed. She should knock. She should ask the woman how she was doing after receiving such bad news. She should be supportive.
And yet … if Melissa had wanted that support, surely she would have mentioned her scan results. That she said nothing could only meant that she wanted to keep those results private, at least for now.
Ladarat turned back toward the nurses’ station, pondering the ethics of the situation. Walking away like this felt … wrong. But what could she do? Ladarat hesitated as she considered ruses she could use to get back in the room. A forgotten pen? A mislaid cell phone?
She considered these and a number of other options as she stood indecisively in the hallway, which was mercifully empty of people.
Perhaps it was best to let Melissa determine what she wanted to share, and when. Didn’t the good Professor Dalrymple say: “Our patients tell us what we need to know if only we listen carefully.”
That was not an entirely satisfying conclusion, but it would do for now. And Ladarat felt more at ease as she made her way back down the hallway toward the door. She paused just long enough at an open door to catch a glimpse of Dr. Taksin once again unconscious, with his head resting on the hard wooden desk.
A POSSIBLY DISAPPEARED MAN
Ladarat was fumbling with the key to unlock her office door when her cell phone chirped. With one hand on the key in the door, she reached for the phone in her white coat pocket, only to realize that she wasn’t wearing her white coat. It took a few extra miscoordinated seconds to fish the insistent device from her bag, unlock the door, and put her bag down inside the door. Cradling the phone against her left shoulder, she turned the key to get it out of the door.
