Page 78 of Holiday Star
He must be worried about Caleb, too.
“When is he getting out?”
“No clue.”
That night, I give Pip a pat on the head and call Caleb’s phone. This time, when I get his voicemail, I leave a brief message. “Hey. It’s me, Gwen. Just hoping you’re okay.”
49
Istride forward with my hand outstretched and my head held high, trying to project confidence. I’m hoping Dr. Benson won’t remember the last time I was here. Back when he was angry with me for the Caleb fallout.
“Dr. Wright.” He greets me with a firm handshake and a flat smile that doesn’t make the journey to his eyes. “How nice to see you…again,” he says dryly.
Shit. Guess he remembers.
Not off to a good start.
We take our respective seats, him at his desk and me in the stiff chair in front of it. Just like last time, I find the framed degrees on the wall behind him distracting, but I wrench my gaze away from them and focus instead on the gray-haired doctor.
“I want to come to you today with a proposal.” I hand over the binder that contains all of my carefully compiled research and preliminary budgets. Dr. Benson flips through the pages briefly before placing it on his desk and returning his attention to me.
Although my hands tremble where I hold them folded in my lap, my voice is steady. “I believe this hospital would benefit from instituting an art therapy program.”
He raises a brow.
After taking a deep breath, I launch into the speech that I practiced this morning in my mirror. “Art therapy has many proven benefits. I’ve included the research in the material I gave you.” I gesture to the binder. “Among the positive effects are elevated patient mood, faster healing times, and quicker discharge from the hospital.”
Dr. Benson steeples his hands and leans forward on that last one, just as I knew he would. At the end of the day, the hospital is, sadly, a business. The more patients who pass through our doors, the more money there is to be made.
“How would that work, exactly?” he asks.
“A team of therapists could visit the patients and do art with them in their rooms. I’m estimating that for the size of this hospital and the number of appropriate patients, we would need to hire three full-time therapists.”
The lines on each side of his mouth deepen as he frowns. “Where would the money to pay their salaries come from?”
“The insurance companies reimburse for this treatment but not enough to pay for the entire cost. Combined, the payments from insurance providers would cover one therapist’s salary. I found a grant provided by the federal government that would fund another of the positions.”
“That’s enough for two therapists. What about the third that you seem to think we need?” he interjects, running a hand over his chin.
This will be the most difficult part, getting the hospital to shell money out of its own pocket. Pulling myself as tall as I can, I answer, “That’s where you come in, sir. The hospital would have to budget for that cost.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes, staring at me with a critical eye. I fidget, straightening my already straight white lab coat.
“It’s a cute idea.” A glance at the clock on the wall behind me. “But we’re going to have to pass.”
Cute?Did he just say cute?
I give it another try. “But, sir, as you can see from the information I have provided, I’ve identified a subset of patients who could truly benefit.”
He sighs, puffing out his cheeks like I’m annoying him. The look at the clock lasts longer this time, and I know I’ve lost him. He rises from the desk and leans over its shining mahogany surface with a politician’s handshake. “Sorry, Dr. Wright. Maybe we can reassess when we’re compiling the budget for next year.”
Reassess, my ass.This man has no intention of promoting my idea. He might as well tell me not to let the door hit me on the way out.
The knowledge sends me into a tailspin. Old feelings of depression and inadequacy rear up.Was I stupid to believe this could work? Is it an inherently flawed plan?
No,I decide as I trudge down the five sets of stairs that lead me back to the ER. I’ve looked at my patients over the past few weeks. I’ve seen ones that would benefit from the extra boost art therapy gives. Patients teetering on the border between health and simply giving up on life. Those are the ones who could transform with the change in mindset that art therapy provides. I see those people, and I yearn to help them.
Well, you know what?
