Mendoza's Miracle

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Leah didn’t usually share that memory unless it was with a patient she wanted to help come to grips with his or her own tragedy, so she wasn’t sure what to say.

It had been a long time ago, but she still remembered that sad and lonely period in her life, even though she’d tried hard to put it behind her.

“My mom lived another four years,” she said, “although the last six months were especially rough.”

“I lost my mother last year, and it was tough on all of us. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you as a child.”

“It was a sad time, but things happen that are out of our control. And to be honest, it was almost a relief when she passed. She’d suffered a lot, especially at the end.”

There’d been another good thing to come of it, she supposed. When her mom had been sick and in the hospital—the surgeries, the chemo, the radiation—Leah had grown close to some of the nursing staff, who’d offered a great deal of comfort and support to her mother, as well as to her. As a result, Leah had decided on a medical career while still a little girl. In fact, she’d never considered anything else.

“Were you close to your dad?” Javier asked.

One might think that would be the case, but that’s not the way it had worked out.

“My father never was very good at dealing with his emotions—or with anyone else’s. That’s part of the reason he and my mom had those marital troubles in the early years. So he found it easier to go to work than to spend much time at home.”

“He left you alone?”

“No, we had a housekeeper. But pouring himself into his business made it easier to deal with his loss and easier not to deal with mine.”