Page 127 of Rise Above

patient’s room. He nodded as a greeting and motioned for me to follow him, away from the nursing station.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Bowie was a

neurologist who really did care about his patients. Apparently, I was included in that.

“I feel fine. Thank you for asking.” The way he was

looking at me made me nervous. His brows were furrowed, and he looked upset.

“Dr. Tevar tells me you were working last week,

that you came into work the day after being in the ER.” He

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folded his arms over his chest. “You should have taken last week off.”

Why was everyone so insistent that they knew my

body better than I did? Everyone wanted me to rest so damn badly, but I did that. Rest was for the dead. Plus, I had no PTO to take, not after returning to Katy for Thanksgiving. I swallowed my anger.

“I know my body, Dr. Bowie.” My voice came out

stern, strident. I normally didn’t talk to the doctors like that. Clearly, my frustration was getting the better of me. I hated feeling pain. It always took me back to pre-brain surgery days.

“I can appreciate your frustration, but this is about

your brain health. Don’t take this as me lecturing you, Aife. You probably know better than most patients the importance of taking care of yourself. Even a one-day break would have benefited your brain, and I know you know that based on the slight hostility coming from you.”

I looked down at my feet. Bowie had a way of

chastising without being an ass about it. “I apologize, Dr. Bowie. Brain stuff freaks me out, even after all these years. Plus, rest is not a word in my vocabulary.”

“Make it one,” he said and started to walk to his

office. Bowie paused and looked back at me. “You are the best social worker neuro has had. I can’t afford to lose you just yet.”

A smile crept onto my face. “Tell my boss to pay

me more.”

The good doctor laughed, a genuine one. “I just

might, Aife. I just might.”

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Shaking my head, I got back to work. Patients

weren’t going to discharge themselves. Once I had my PhD, I would be ready to take on my own private practice. Discharge planning was fine, but there was so much change needed in the medical world. I had to try to change the system from out of a hospital.

The United States had a long and complicated

history of medical issues. Insurance, in particular, was a necessary evil in this country. If you were chronically ill or disabled, there was no point in even trying to argue with insurance. My social work calling was meant to be elsewhere, handling all aspects of medical social work, not just discharge planning.