Oversight

By Nicholas Morell

Nicholas Morell is a retired Obstetrician who worked with Kaiser for over thirty-five years. His wife Cheryl is a practicing Pediatrician with Kaiser. They have three sons, two of whom have gone into medicine, and the third into research.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493144242

Nicholas Morell

Nicholas Morell is a retired Obstetrician who worked with Kaiser for over thirty-five years. His wife Cheryl is a practicing Pediatrician with Kaiser. They have three sons, two of whom have gone into medicine, and the third into research.

Book preview

1

They arrived within about two hours of each other. The older they got, the less frequent their visits became. That was no surprise. They had their own lives to lead.

And their lives were busy, very busy. The world had shown each of them their own on-ramp, and after choosing to accelerate into traffic, each was consumed by their chosen sphere. But when they got home, it was like the world outside, if just for a short time, really couldn’t get to them, couldn’t invade their safety zone created by their parents and maintained mostly by Candace—their surrogate mother, taxi driver, tutor, confidante, and too many other things to mention—for so many years. She was supported by Hans, someone who always seemed to be at the right place at the right time, no matter what.

Safety, security, a place to escape to every so often… home.

But this trip was not for that reason. Martin was the first one home. He had caught the late-morning flight out of Philadelphia with one connection in Las Vegas, arriving in Los Angeles around four thirty. It was then only a forty-five-minute drive in that lovely LA traffic, but once through the gates, he knew it was worth the commute.

Martin was the younger of the two, but only by twenty months, and many thought he was older than his brother since he got the tall gene. Being so close in age made the brothers at times behave more like twins than mere sibs, but their appearances would never have anyone mistake them for even fraternal ones. Martin was slender in frame at six one, with dark brown hair, always kept short, sideburns very trim. He flirted with a moustache and goatee off and on, though they came and went with his whims. He was one who paid close attention to style and tags and trends in fashion. He always had, ever since junior high school, when certain style skate shoes were accepted and tennis shoes were not. In his mind, his needs and desires were simple—that is, simple to understand and not necessarily simple as in inexpensive. In fact, they were often very far from that kind of simple. It was fortunate that he found himself being very successful in his chosen profession.

Martin wasn’t quite as successful in his romantic endeavors. His first marriage was a whirlwind romance in which both he and she were obviously too young to realize the seriousness of the commitment. It was clear by seven weeks after the honeymoon, when they found they had run out of things to talk about, and they also discovered that they no longer wanted to put out the effort to even try to connect. End of number 1.

Following that shocker, Martin became a devout bachelor, putting all his energies into his career, with almost every available minute scheduled. It was safe and predictable and lasted seven and a half years. He was doing just fine, he told himself each day, and he had himself convinced he could be a loner indefinitely. That was until Ellen.

The first time he met Ellen, he promised himself that nothing would come of it. She was simply someone he met through work, and everyone knew workplace relationships were never solid, never lasting, and could even be dangerous if they went south. He had done very well on his own for all that time, and why should anyone screw up a good thing? He tried everything he knew to break the hold she had created over him, but nothing worked, so he just gave in one day and asked her out on a date.

He almost didn’t know how to behave, as it had been so long since his last attempt at romance. But it was surprisingly easy. She said yes, and after fighting the temptation to ask her why she did, he suggested they go out for pizza and beer. She said the pizza sounded fine, but she would stick with Diet Coke. He picked her up at seven, and they drove to Bella’s, a small quiet restaurant not far from his condo, and ordered a pepperoni-and-mushroom pizza, which they agreed on without having to do rock-paper-scissors, and started a conversation that, to his surprise, was never forced, never filled with awkward pauses. The night and the pizza disappeared quickly, and each one went home that night not believing what had just happened. It was perfect, and they both knew it.

There was no need for the courtship ritual, no need for pretending not to care by not calling. They both knew that something that good only comes along once in an eon, if even that often, so they decided to act on it before they had the chance to wake up from their dream. They were the buzz of the office when they returned from their short but awesome honeymoon, and after the hubbub settled, work became business as usual.

They found it amazingly easy to work together, and all the obstacles that were supposed to arise in a smooth, functioning relationship, both on and off the job, never showed up. Phrases such as the perfect couple and match made in heaven circulated, and all they could do was smile. It was nirvana until that last checkup—one that neither of them saw coming.

They were so young, so healthy. Their last physicals were for their college entrance days, quite a while ago. Each remembered their blood tests and EKGs that said they would live forever, sparing fast-moving vehicles or stray bullets. They were supposed to be invincible, like Achilles without the vulnerable heel. But when Ellen was asked to have a seat in the doctor’s office after her initial lab work, they both got concerned. Every other time, they were told to go home, and the results would be mailed to them, but not this time. This time was different.

When the doctor came in, she had a serious look on her face, one that did not instill confidence in the patients across the desk. She tried to be reassuring initially, but the rather harsh reality soon was out, and words such as lymphoma and five-year survival were soon the only words and phrases that they remembered. It was a particularly difficult prognosis to deliver and accept, and the subsequent few days, weeks, and months were the hardest he had ever experienced. Things happened so fast that he wasn’t sure if the first few days following Ellen’s funeral were a dream or a relief from the nightmare he was forced to endure. Henceforth, promises were made to himself and only to himself, no matter what. It was safest that way.

He traveled light, with one suitcase and a carry-on bag for personal stuff. He found his way to the back door and, once inside, heard a familiar sigh of glee as Candace came in through the other door and charged at him, arms wide open.

Welcome home, little one, she exclaimed. She had to get on her tippy toes, and he had to bend way over, so the name was much more a symbolic remembrance than a reality. But for a quick second, he was in safe arms, carried back to happier, simpler times.

How are you, Candace? he asked as he finally separated from her and looked into her eyes. Those soft brown eyes he knew were now obviously reddened by the recent events.

We’re all holding things together, she said, as brave as ever. So glad you’re home. She hugged him again. Your mom’s having a hard time. she told him, but I’m sure she’ll feel better when she sees you. I’m sure she will.

Jim here yet? he asked.

Not yet, Candace answered. I think his plane lands at about seven thirty in Burbank. He was supposed to call if he was going to be late, and he hasn’t, so I guess he’s on time.

Mom upstairs? Martin asked.

Yes, said Candace. She was lying down for a quick rest. She told me to wake her the minute you got here, so I better go and get her.

It’s okay, he told her. If you think it’s okay, I’ll go upstairs and surprise her myself.

I think she’d like that, said Candace. She needs these afternoon pills, if you don’t mind bringing them up with a glass of water.

Sure, he said and took the pill container and glass. How many times had he and Jim chased each other up and down that stairwell, racing to wake up Mom and Dad on Christmas morning or to get ready to go on vacation or just because it was Saturday?

Home. Home is always home, no matter how old or sophisticated or jaded you get. The fourth spindle was still turned crooked from being forced when Jim pushed him across the step that Halloween. The dent in the wall was still there above the top step from his hard head hitting it as they slid across the landing, practicing for Little League. The same floorboards still creaked when he got just outside his folks’ bedroom door. He was about to rap on the door when he heard a familiar voice.

Come on in, Martin, I’ve been waiting all day for you!

He opened the door, and in the dim light, he could see his mom squinting from the brighter light of the hall. She was wearing a scarf over her head to keep her hair in place, and she had on a pink sweat suit and white socks. He could tell she had just awakened.

Hey, Mom, he said and gave her a long hug. For a while, they didn’t say anything, and then she broke the silence.

How was your trip? she asked. She stared at the floor so she wouldn’t look at him and lose it.

Good, he said. The only problem was the LA traffic…

I miss him already, she said.

I know, Mom, he said.

2

James Henry Wallace made his way through the Burbank Airport with ease. He had done it so many times before, and it was always his preference, whenever he had the choice between there and LAX. Who wouldn’t want to skip the throngs of people milling around, pushing and shoving, cursing and yelling? And that was only in the men’s room. He liked getting off the plane, having minimal wait time for his bag if he checked one, and having rental cars on site instead of having to take an e-coupon ride to the Hertz lot.

He was soon on his way home, and since it was later, the traffic was lighter. He still was grateful for his choice of residence because the pace of living, and the cost, for that matter, was so much better in the suburbs of Portland. The choice had been easy, and the fact that Alice had grown up in the area sealed the deal. They had met when they were in college at Berkeley and shared a few classes together. Initially, there was little in the way of attraction, and they considered themselves study buddies, along with a few other friends. As time went on, though, there were more and more extended conversations after the others needed to leave. The topics varied, but usually each one left thinking how much alike they thought. They did at times disagree, but those issues were always minor, and the big picture was one of consensus. Finally they found they were spending so much time together that they should just be together, and that was eighteen years and two kids ago. She and the girls weren’t coming until Thursday.

Chrissie had a test she couldn’t miss or the world would end, and Megan just wanted to travel with the girls. They all knew it wasn’t going to be a very fun trip. Growing up in Oregon, they didn’t get to see Grandpa Wallace very often, and when they did, it usually was awkward. When they were young, they were noisy and giggly, and since they had grown older, they really had nothing in common to talk to him about. It was like being related to your school principal, and who wanted to hug him?

When Jim got home, lots of lights were on, so he knew Martin had to have gotten there already. Seeing the house aglow always brought back memories of coming home, with that feeling of welcome and warmth, from the days of walking back from elementary school, then junior high. Those were the days of homework and projects and fun things to do with Candace since Mom was usually busy with projects of her own. He remembered coming through the front door and smelling the smells. Sometimes things were baking in the oven for that night’s dinner, and sometimes there were cookies. He knew the aroma of those chocolate-chip wonders that Candace would occasionally surprise them with—special occasions usually, but sometimes just because.

He went inside. He wasn’t sure what to expect except for the smells. Pot roast was always a good comfort food, and Candace knew how to comfort in those special times, the hard times that they all knew they would get through but needed a little support to make it. That was one of those things that his folks had given to him besides all the clothes and presents and other material things. It was the gift of being able to see beyond the tough times, the ability to know that those times are only there for a finite period, and if you are strong and have confidence, you can see past those hard times and realize that in the long run, all will be okay. It wasn’t always easy to do, but both he and Martin had the gift.

Welcome home, said a familiar voice. Candace had heard his car drive up and came around the corner to greet him.

Thanks, he said, giving her a big hug. Where is everybody else?

Martin is upstairs with your mom, she answered. Hans is out back puttering with who knows what. You know him—he always finds something to keep himself busy around here.

How’s she doing? he asked, hoping for the best.

Not great, she said, being honest, but trying to ease the situation a little. Even though we knew it was coming, it was still really hard on her. They had been together a long time, and right when they were supposed to have their golden years togeth… She got caught on her last words and gave him another hug. It was so different. She was always the one who was comforting them when they got hurt or had to get their shots at the doctor’s office. Jim didn’t mind the role reversal, after all she had done for him.

Why don’t you go upstairs and see them? she said. I know they’ve been waiting for you. Besides, I’ve got to finish getting supper ready, and if you stay here much longer, I’ll make you set the table.

Oh no, not that! he joked and ran up the stairs like he used to when he was ten.

3

He got the call, as always. He knew that they were safely home. It would seem that after all this time, with them being so grown up, it wouldn’t be necessary, but it was comforting to know that everything was well and that they had made it to their destination without a hitch.

When Hans went into the kitchen, Candace was finishing the salad.

Anything I can do? he asked. He usually waited until he thought all of the important stuff of preparation was done before he would come in and offer his assistance, even though he had, over the years, become a very good cook in his own right. There were times when he had to fill in for Candace in the kitchen when she wasn’t feeling well or if she needed time off for an emergency. She usually would leave explicit directions as to what to prepare, with step-by-step instructions, but he would at times add his own twist to the recipe, and most of the time, it turned out really good. As the years went on, they had become quite the balanced couple, complementing each other with their own functions around the house, to the point where neither could ever conceive of ever finding a replacement for the other. That’s not to say that they didn’t have their occasional differences. They did agree to disagree on certain things. For instance, Hans would never think of helping Candace fold the laundry. He made the mistake of doing just that one day, as a surprise, so that she wouldn’t have to do it when she brought the kids home from the soccer games late one night, and he was told in no uncertain terms that every item of clothing needed to be refolded in the correct way, taking her twice as long as it would have if she had done it herself. After that incident, he didn’t speak to her for three days and never went near the dryer again. In return, Candace thought it would be a nice gesture to