Chapter 10
“My marriage is ending.”
Her expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“And I want to come back.”
She leaned back.
“To medicine?”
“Yes.”
“To surgery?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
She studied me.
“Mara, how long has it been?”
“Almost eight years since I practiced regularly.”
“And how long since you performed an operation?”
I looked down.
“Nearly as long.”
She didn’t soften the next question.
“Do you understand what that means?”
“Yes.”
“No, I need you to tell me.”
I drew a breath.
“My knowledge needs updating.”
“Correct.”
“My procedural skills will need assessment and retraining.”
“Correct.”
“I’ll need to meet the current licensing, credentialing, and hospital requirements.”
She nodded.
“And?”
I stared at her.
“I can’t expect to return as though I never left.”
“Exactly.”
My eyes burned.
“I know.”
Evelyn folded her hands.
“This will be difficult.”
“I know.”
“It could take a long time.”
“I know.”
“You may discover that the work has changed in ways you don’t like.”
I nodded.
“And you may discover that wanting something back isn’t the same as being ready for it.”
That one hurt.
I looked away.
Evelyn waited.
Finally, I said, “I don’t expect you to give me my old job.”
“Good.”
“I don’t even know whether I deserve the opportunity.”
Her expression sharpened.
“Stop.”
I looked at her.
“Do not confuse being out of practice with being worthless.”
My throat tightened.
“You were an excellent surgeon,” she said.
“That doesn’t mean you’re one today.”
I nodded.
“But it also doesn’t mean you can’t become one again.”
Something inside me opened.
Evelyn reached for a notepad.
“There are reentry pathways, assessments, continuing education programs, and supervised clinical opportunities.”
She wrote several names down.
“We’ll start by finding out what applies to your credentials and what you’ll need to do.”
I looked at the page.
It wasn’t a job offer.
It wasn’t a guarantee.
It was a list of obstacles.
And I had never been happier to see a list in my life.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Evelyn pushed the notepad toward me.
“Don’t thank me yet.”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“I’m going to ask you something, and I want an honest answer.”
“All right.”
“Are you doing this because your husband left you?”
I swallowed.
That was the question I had been avoiding.
For a moment, I wanted to say no.
I wanted to sound strong.
Independent.
Certain.
But Evelyn had always hated easy answers.