“Um—Mary was kind of a legend. She was a patient during my first year of residency and Sara’s favorite patient. She was an older woman—in her fifties—and she had been a beautician. Whenever she was admitted, and on the days she had the energy, she would go around the oncology floor and give little mini-makeovers to the other patients. It might have been as simple as putting lotion on a patient’s hands and giving her a hand massage, all the way to full-blown makeovers.
“Eventually, she started adding music to her rounds. Mostly hip-hop and soul music, but usually the more upbeat variety. The staff really grew to love her.”
“I bet,” Hector said.
“Yeah. She could completely turn around the outlook of a patient having a rough day.”
“She make it?” Hector asked.
My face turned. “No,” I admitted. “Breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry,” Hector said.
“Me too. She was an amazing woman. It’s a tribute to her that we keep the tradition going. If we have a patient who is really down, we have a girl’s day. It’s silly but—”
“Not silly at all. You know as well as I do that patient outlook is a big factor in resilience and is as important as chemotherapy or radiation.”
“Yeah, I know. Thank you.”
“I’ve also been meaning to ask you—”
“What?”
“Why do you volunteer at the clinic?” he asked.
“Hector, if I offended you, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to place doubts on your motives for volunteering.”
“Relax. That’s not why I was asking. It’s just...you seem overwhelmed by everything you take on.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with joking exasperation. “Okay. Number one, never, and I meannever,tell a woman to relax. You will have the opposite outcome—”
“Noted.”
“And number two, don’t underestimate me. Besides, I only volunteer for a few shifts a month. I can’t imagine not doing it.”
“But why did you get into it in the first place?”
My gaze drifted away into space as my thoughts turned to many years back. I was starting to realize that as much as I hated talking about my mother, for some reason, Hector always got it out of me.
“My mom. She didn’t have insurance before she was diagnosed, so she ignored the symptoms for too long.”
“And if she’d had access to a free clinic, things might have been different,” Hector finished for me.
I nodded, unsure of what else to say, but the doorbell literally saved me. “You expecting someone?” I asked.
“No. It’s probably another shipment of something you ordered for the house.”
“Nope. I had you pay out the wazoo for expedited shipping so everything could be here before your mom arrives.”
“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said wryly.
“Anytime.” I grinned after him.
He shook his head as he opened the front door. “Mami!” he exclaimed.
I sprang up to my feet and walked over to them. Hector embraced a small woman, barely five-one in height. There was no way that tiny woman had birthed him. If she did, she could run the world one day.
She wore a pink jacket, and her hair was perfectly pinned back into a low bun. I smiled, realizing she wasn’t coloring the gray out of her hair. This was a woman I could look up to.