Page 74 of Another Fox Bites the Dust

“Thank you for sticking up for me with my parents.”

“They love you.”

He nods. “To be fair, I haven’t done the best job explaining to them all the reasons I left medicine.”

“Why not?”

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want them to feel bad for pushing me for so long toward something that made me miserable.” His head turns and our gazes lock.

It’s so like him to protect their feelings, even at his own expense. My vision has adjusted to the dimness, and there are just enough fake stars overhead that I can make out his features, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes dark and penetrating.

“When they realized how good I was at school, how easily science and math came to me, they really pressed me to excel. They latched on to my intelligence like it was the only thing that mattered. Mom was a teacher and Dad was a plumber, and to them, being a doctor was like this pinnacle of achievement.”

“And to you, what was it?” I ask.

He shifts next to me, turning fully onto his side.

I mimic his movement, resting my head in my hand.

“It was what my parents wanted me to do. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. It was never my dream, it was theirs. That was the main reason I left, but it was also more than that. Medical school and residency were like being in an abusive relationship. Especially since everyone involved and, you know, the world in general is convinced the entire profession is this great, noble cause, and you must be out of your mind if you don’t want to be a part of it.”

I tilt my head. “It’s not noble?”

“Oh, it is, in a lot of ways. It’s fulfilling, and helping people is never a bad thing, but it’s more complicated than that.”

“Most things are,” I murmur.

He sighs. “It’s hard to explain. Medical school was hard, residency was worse, but I thought it was all temporary. They told us from the beginning it would be grueling, but they also instilled this sense that it would all be worth the pain and sacrifice in the end, and you’re just too sleep deprived to question anything.”

“I’ve heard cults use similar tactics to assist in brainwashing.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “I believe it. When I started working in the ER, I was sure that I had made it through the worst of it. That everything would turn around and then I would be happy.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

His eyes lock with mine. “No. I mean, sure, I was helping people, sometimes, but I spent a lot of time and energy dealing with other doctors doing shitty things.”

“What do you mean?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Many doctors would refuse to help patients with Medicaid.”

“Why?”

“It’s harder to get reimbursed.”

My jaw drops.

“Then, for those patients who had decent insurance, many of my fellow graduates would refer them for a barrage of tests they didn’t need.”

At my questioning look, he sighs. “Student loans are enormous. Money took priority over patient care.” He waves a hand. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I won’t get into the depression rates plaguing people in the medical profession.”

“I had no idea. I’m so sorry you went through all that.” And then some, from the sound of it. “How did the rest of your family take it?” They didn’t seem too bothered to me.

“With Granny Bea and my sisters, I didn’t even have to explain anything. I just told them I was done, and they accepted my decision.”

I contemplate his words. “That’s nice, that your sisters and Granny Bea are so supportive, at least. It helps to have people in your corner. When did Granny Bea move in with your parents?”

“After Kevin passed. She was alone, and we had to leave. I couldn’t bear leaving her behind. We were close before Kevin died, but after he passed, we got much closer.”

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