Fated Dinner Part 1:

Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"This isn't something we can just ignore Katherine," said the shrink. "Suicide is a serious thing."

"I know," she said, more irritated than anything. "I'm a doctor! I know how serious this is! I was at a low point, and I've agreed to continue seeing my hospital's shrink, but I'm not there anymore. Everything just sort of hit me at once."

"We can't let you go until we…"

"Excuse me."

Katherine groaned. She knew that voice all too well.

"And you are?"

"Doctor Hilton. Doctor Thrasher here is my intern. She's sent a request to be transferred to our care."

She handed a signed form to the shrink. Katherine bit her tongue. She hadn't made any such request but she couldn't bring herself to go against her resident. An hour later, they were putting her into Doctor Hilton's car.

"Listen I…" Katherine started before Hilton cut her off.

"I don't know what you were thinking," she said sternly. "But I understand what it's like to lose a child."

Katherine stared at her in disbelief.

"You… had a…"

"No," she said. "My… my son. He was eight and he fell off our deck. He hit the ground and had severe head trauma. We managed to get him to the hospital, but… he died on the table."

Katherine curled a little in the car seat.

"Were you… were you the…"

"No, they wouldn't let me in the room," Hilton said, the bitterness and anger in her voice evident.

Katherine shuddered. She wasn't sure what would've been worse, to fail to save the boy directly or not have been able to do anything as a surgeon herself. Either way, she understood a bit of the hit that must've been on her resident.

"I'm sorry. Not just for that but... for what I did."

"Thanks…" Hilton said, dropping her harsh tone for a moment. "Katherine. You're a promising doctor, and skilled surgeon, but this… I can't let you treat if you don't handle this. We'll keep you on our shrink for your internship, at least. Did they test your nerves?"

"Yeah," Katherine said. "A little residual numbness but my hands still have full motor function."

"Well, there's that at least. There's a meeting this week between myself, my attending and the chief of medicine to see if you'll be allowed to continue medicine, and I'll speak on your behalf, but you've got to get yourself under control."

"Yes doctor," she said, meaning every letter.

Of course, exactly how she was going to get under control having lost everything near to her was another question entirely.

"I'm not promising anything, but I'll try to keep you on. I don't think they want to let you go either, so do whatever the therapist tells you to do as if it were the only thing in the world."

Katherine nodded again.

The rest of her hospitalization passed by in a daze. She remembered talking to the shrink, a number of times actually. She had been very kind and understanding, although Katherine was sure that it was a practiced attitude and instead of a genuine feeling. Still, it was nice to feel like someone cared, even if that was her job. She told the shrink everything: About her past, the job, Tom, the miscarriage. She didn't stop speaking until her throat started to turn hoarse.

"Katherine," said the shrink gently. "You're a very caring and compassionate woman."

Katherine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Still, she didn't ignore this woman. If she was ever going to practice surgery again, she would have to grit her teeth and bear it.

They let her go home two days later. Someone (Wendy most likely) had cleaned her bathroom up and straightened things up a little. Katherine sighed. She'd have to talk to Wendy and apologize and explain things, but not today. Today she could just be home and relax. She had earned that much, she thought. As she lay on the couch, Trip came up, meowing insistently, as if nothing had changed. Katherine smiled, petting the fuzzball as he purred happily.

"At least something around here stays the same," she said softly.

Of course, nothing was truly going to stay forever in the world. Honestly, that frightened her. Was there really nothing that someone could look to for a constant? With that fear running through her, she leaned back into the couch, passing into a fitful sleep.