--1--
Samantha was circling the small hallway when Amanda got to Sanford. There was a brief spark in her eyes when she saw the medical director and said, “Dig?”
Taken aback by the girl's voluntary interest, Amanda asked. “Did you like digging, Samantha?”
Samantha’s gaze was blank, making Dr. Blake wonder if she had spoken. Her cut hair gave her a freakish appearance which only enhanced her ghoulish state. Amanda gestured for Samantha to follow her to her office. The young woman seemed almost willing as she walked behind the medical director.
Amanda opened the door and sat down behind her desk. Samantha stood in the entrance, looked over at the rod in the corner by her desk, and hung her head. Amanda studied her for a moment and said, “Would you like me to put it somewhere else?”
Samantha lifted her eyes. She held a steady gaze of understanding with Amanda which bordered hope. It was as if she wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the words. Now she could see why Dr. Thompson found promise in her. “Alright,” she said getting up. “As long as you listen, it’ll be kept in the closet while you’re here.”
The corners of Samantha’s mouth twitched. It was then Amanda realized the sight of the rod to Samantha meant pain. She put it in the closet and shut the door. She walked over to the window and waved her patient over. “I want to show you something.”
Samantha’s approach was cautious as Amanda pulled back the curtains where she could see the trench they had been working on the day before. “Dig!”
“That’s right, Samantha. Did you like digging yesterday?”
For the rest of the session, Samantha looked out the window. A sense of peace Amanda did not think her patient was capable of became palpable, making her serene. She left Samantha standing at the window and sat down behind her desk where she began making notes and questions about her observation while Samantha’s occasional, “dig,” interrupted the scratching of her pen. Since she was back on the same lithium dosage Dr. Thompson had her on and no longer seeing Dr. Wilson, she seemed calmer.
When she had approached him about the altered chart he denied it, even when the medication from Samantha’s blood test didn’t match what had been documented. Since then he had been avoiding Amanda more than normal to the point where if he spied her, he would duck into a room until she was out of sight. If only she knew how much he hated her for being given Dr. Thompson’s position when it should have gone to him. He never understood what the retired medical director saw in her which made her fit to run the facility.
The ringing of the telephone on Amanda’s desk startled her as her hand shot across the paper she was scribbling on. She had forgotten she had asked Daniel to call her. She glanced over at Samantha, who did not seem to have heard it. “Daniel, I am with a patient. Hold on.” She put the receiver on her desk. “Samantha?”
She turned to Dr. Blake. “Sam.”
Amanda chose her next words carefully. “Would you like me to call you Sam?”
Instead of answering, Samantha looked out the window. “Dig.”
Amanda stood beside her. “We will, Sam. Right now, I have a phone call, so I would like you to go to lunch. I’ll get you.”
She walked Samantha to the cafeteria and then hurried back to her office. “Daniel?”
“I’m still here.”
“I was with a – “
“Yes. I know. A patient.”
Amanda heard the fatigue in his voice and sat down. “What happened with Robert?”
The relief in his voice was unmistakable. “The chlorpromazine worked. He was still calm after the hour was up so I gave him a prescription, some money, and he left.”
“Good. Are you going out after work?”
There was a pause on the other line. It wouldn’t have surprised Amanda if he already had plans with Brian to have a drink after he was finished for the evening. “You know what, Mand? I just want to go home.”
“I understand.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Amanda read through the notes she had taken and underlined what she believed were the most important. She laid them on Samantha’s chart then looked out the window and wondered if Pastor Richmond would stop by. The shovels had been stuck into the ground where they had finished the previous day and they were anxious to pick up where they had left off. The blister on the heel of Amanda’s hand still hurt and was now a pustule of water on the verge of breaking. She would be able to supervise, but not partake.
She went to the cafeteria and let the staff know she wanted one of the old tables taken outside by the trench site. She also wanted cups and a large picture of water as well as some fruit and sandwiches for the patients who would be digging. Pulling one of the workers aside, she said she wanted one strawberry jam sandwich wrapped in a paper towel. When she read through Samantha’s chart, she learned Dr. Thompson would have one for her when they met and how he gave it to her.
The rest of the afternoon went better than Amanda anticipated. She and a couple of medical assistants oversaw the patients who were well enough to dig. Samantha worked in a singsong fashion apart from the others and in front of Amanda. When the sun began to sink, she gathered the shovels and then checked their hands for blisters. She frowned at forming welts as they were led back to wash up before dinner. Samantha lingered towards the end, holding the paper towel to her cheek with her eyes closed as if it were her favorite doll.
--2--
“I’m confused,” Amanda said as she and Pastor Richmond walked along the stone path behind the church and into the woods. The vestiges of the Indian Summer were wearing off making her hope the trench would be finished that day.
Pastor Richmond leaned over and pulled out a young plant. He held it up in front of her. “If this little guy is left to grow, next year he’ll be a red vine of stinging whiplash and a pain to get out of your socks. Now, what are you confused about?”
She briefly explained what Samantha had done with the paper towel. “I don’t understand.”
The pastor’s smile was one of gentleness which could only be found in ancient wisdom. It made Amanda feel as though she were young and gathering a bouquet of dandelions to give to her mother. “Maybe, it’s not the paper towel so much as the kindness she associated with it.
“Explain.”
“Think about it, Amanda. You said Dr. Thompson saw promise in her. You learned to put your rod in a closet. Found out she likes to dig or most likely work outside, let her look out the window so she can see where she spent the other day and gave her a strawberry jam sandwich in the same way Dr. Thompson did.”
Amanda was frustrated. He was speaking in a language that made no sense to her. “I’m just trying to – “
“Kindness, Amanda,” the pastor interrupted her, stressing the word. “Look it up.”
“I will.”
Pastor Richmond took her dead tone to be serious and gave her a curious side glance. “I believe you will. Let me give you a tidbit of information. Being kind is not the same as being nice. Nice has to do with being likable. Kind deals more with compassion and consideration.”
Amanda chewed her lower lip as Dr. Wilson came to mind. Like, Daniel, he leaned toward a more charismatic dynamic, yet differed in his superficial shallowness, and in her staunchest opinion, he was an unsuitable as well as an incompetent psychiatrist. Why Dr. Thompson did not release him, baffled her, other than them being short on staff. “Maybe he was looking for someone else to fill his position,” she mused.
“Pardon me?”
Amanda shook her head. “Thinking out loud.”
It struck her how she had almost walked away from the gardening project over a mere comment about a battered truck similar to her father’s. To let Wilson oversee it, would be a terrible mistake. She blanched at the image of how it would fail under his directive and slammed the door shut before it could go further.
“I see. What are you thinking about now?”
He could almost see the gears turning in the woman’s mind as she formulated a response. “A self-based observation of learning how being kind affects the patient.”
Richmond smiled. It was a start. “Any ideas on how to do it?”
Amanda’s stern face lit up as an idea came to her and she almost smiled. “Strawberries.”
