“Really?” Kelly asked, sounding resigned.
“Really,” Dr. Carter nodded to her. “Sorry to confirm the bad news,” she shrugged.
“Well!” Kelly exhaled. “Now we know what to do. When should I make my next appointment?”
Dr. Carter looked up, calculating in her head. “Give me about a month from today. I’ll send the 3d scans to the surgeon. He and I will meet to plan the surgery and when that’s finalized, I’ll get the bonding trays made for you.”
“Ok! Thanks, Dr. Carter,” Kelly said, with a wry smile. She transferred from the dental chair back to her wheelchair with a practiced movement and headed out to her car.
An hour of traffic later, she put on her white coat in the parking lot of the pharmacy school, smoothed the coattails around her legs, checked her reflection in her cell phone camera, brushing her thick, dark-red hair over her left shoulder, swung her backpack onto her lap and headed inside.
The first-year pharmacy class was beginning to trickle into the lecture hall when Kelly arrived. She smiled at them, feeling excited again. She’d been flattered when Dr. Segura had asked her to teach, but she hadn’t thought much about it after she planned her lectures over the summer. Kelly plugged her USB drive into the computer at the lectern and arranged her slides. She found a microphone she could clip to her lapel and turned to wait for the rest of the students to arrive.
Most of the students headed as far back as they could get in the room, hiding behind open laptop screens or engrossed in their phones. A group of three students came in together, greeted Kelly politely, and sat at the front. A beautiful blonde sorority-girl type, an older guy, tall and tired-looking. Kelly thought to herself that he could be one of Tony’s friends. And a chubby Hispanic girl with short, curly dark hair and kind eyes whose metal braces Kelly immediately noticed.
“Thank you so much for attending an evening lecture to accommodate my schedule,” Kelly began, smiling at the class. “I’m Dr. Kelly Hanrahan. I’ll be your Professional Practice professor for a series of 6 monthly classes this year. In my day job, I’m the Chief Oncology Pharmacist at MD Anderson Cancer Center. I was a first year student in this room, oh,” she calculated, smiling, “fourteen years ago. Most of my time I spend with these guys,” she said, projecting the family photo they’d taken in the summer. The photographer had captured Sofie in mid-air just as she’d jumped out of Tony’s arms trying to get to Kelly. Both Tony and Kelly’s faces were captured in a state of shock, while the little girl, her springy red curls pointing in all directions, laughed happily.
“Aww,” much of the class said in unison.
“Thanks,” Kelly smiled at them. “In Professional Practice, my job is to teach you how to actually get through a day as a pharmacist. All the non-scientific parts of our profession that the administration apparently thinks can fit into 6 three-hour lectures. So,” she advanced the slide, “an ethical dilemma for you. Something you could face on day one in retail pharmacy or in an institutional setting…”
During the break at 7:30pm, Morgan had questions for Dr. Hanrahan, but, unlike any of their other lecturers, multiple students had come forward and clustered around the professor wanting to discuss the subject more. Shrugging at Sarah, Morgan went to the restroom instead.
“She’s really good,” Sarah said, walking down the hall beside Morgan.
“Yeah, if only our other profethorth had the thame enthuthiathm,” Morgan agreed.
They slipped past Ian back into their row just before the break ended. Dr. Hanrahan looked up at the circle of students still waiting to speak to her, excused herself, and rolled over to Morgan. Morgan looked up, surprised. Dr. Hanrahan gave her a friendly smile. She had glinting green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.
“We’re really enthoying your lecthure,” Morgan said, sincerely, gesturing toward Ian and Sarah.
“Thanks,” Kelly said, feeling her cheeks blush slightly. “I was really excited when Dr. Segura asked me to do it.” She sat up, looking directly at Morgan with a look of intense but non-judgmental curiosity. “I noticed several folks in the class have braces,” she began. The buzzing of her phone alarm sitting on her lap interrupted her. She looked down at the phone. “Damn. Time to get started. Another time, then,” she said to Morgan, spinning around to return to the front of the room.
--
On Friday night, Morgan – already strapped into her headgear since she’d gotten in her car at school – sat at the kitchen table, eating pizza with her parents. Jeff had ordered nearly every topping and Morgan was leaving a pile of dropped olives and peppers on her plate as she tried to eat the overloaded slices. Carrie and Jeff had given up and switched to knives and forks.
“We had our firtht Profethional Practithe lecture thith week,” Morgan said, wiping tomato sauce from her lips and facebow.
“Was it good?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah!” Morgan nodded. “The profethor ith a younger woman and wath really interethting. You could tell the had thoroughly planned her talk. She workth at the canther thenter. I’m thinking about athking her if I can thadow her for our intro to clinic hourth.”
“That’s good!” Carrie smiled enthusiastically. “It’s a good idea to find mentors and role models. Your Dad and I aren’t going to be much help giving you professional guidance,” she said guiltily.
--
The week before Thanksgiving, Morgan arrived for the second Professional Practice evening lecture early. She’d prepared her thoughts on a notecard, but she still felt a bit nervous about asking Dr. Hanrahan if she could shadow at the cancer center’s pharmacy. When Ian and Sarah walked in after eating their dinner in the common area, Morgan was already unpacked and ready for class.
When Dr. Hanrahan arrived, Ian, Sarah, and Morgan were sitting in the front row of the mostly empty classroom. She was dressed informally today, in jeans and a sweater, her large backpack sitting on her lap.
“Dr. Hanrahan, hi!” Morgan said, her voice breaking with nerves. “May I athk you a quethion?”
“Sure! What’s up?” the young professor asked, rolling over to Morgan’s table. “I remember meeting you last month!” Dr. Hanrahan smiled. Morgan’s eyes widened. Today, Dr. Hanrahan had a mouthful of large metal braces. The brackets were definitely the largest Morgan had ever seen – certainly larger than Morgan’s own braces – and seemed to hide most of Dr. Hanrahan’s teeth from view. Each bracket, even on the professor’s front teeth, had a large hook like the ones Morgan used to attach her elastics. She had bright green ligatures that almost matched her eyes, and large globs of wax pressed over the huge brackets and their hooks.
“When did you get bratheth?” Morgan asked, her surprise making her forget her planned conversation.
“About 45 minutes ago,” Dr. Hanrahan said, giving a relaxed metallic smile.
“Join the club,” Ian chimed in encouragingly, smiling with his own braces.
“Thanks,” Dr. Hanrahan grinned at him. “That’s actually what I was going to talk to you about at the last class,” she looked at Morgan, “but I ran out of time.” She moved her lips awkwardly around the new metalwork. “I saw your braces and I was going to ask you for tips – it seems like a lot of people at the pharmacy school have braces right now.”
“Yeah, I think there are eight or ten in our clath,” Morgan agreed. “What tipth would you like?”
“Well, I happened to notice you have some kind of appliance,” Dr. Hanrahan gestured toward her own mouth as if she had the same apparatus as Morgan. “I’m going to have surgery in a year or so, after these braces have gotten my teeth ready, and I’ll be wearing a series of splints for the whole rest of my treatment. How do you eat with appliances in your mouth?” She asked Morgan with a serious look. “I love food!” she laughed.
“Oh!” Morgan said. “I eat anything I want, now,” she nodded. “But when I firtht got them, it wath hard to chew. Plan on a liquid diet at firtht.”
“Yay,” Dr. Hanrahan said, raising her fists in mock excitement. “Glad I have that to look forward to.”
“Yeah,” Morgan commiserated. “But you don’t theem thelf-conthiouth, at leatht,” she tried to be encouraging. “A lot of people feel really embarathed the firtht day they have bratheth.”
“You’re right, I’m really not,” Dr. Hanrahan nodded. “I guess I’ve just had enough practice not to feel ashamed at needing a medical device,” she said matter-of-factly, with no reproof in her voice.
Morgan, embarrassed, went pale. Her eyes widened. Dr. Hanrahan looked at her for a moment, then laughed, her green eyes and green braces both glinting in the fluorescent room lights.
“You didn’t offend me,” she said reassuringly to Morgan. “And I’m not laughing at you either, sorry,” she explained. “Your face looks just like Tony’s – my husband – the day we met.” She chuckled at the memory. “It was a blind date. He came from his hospital after work over to the common room here to pick me up. My friend who set us up said he’d been telling her he planned such a fun date for us. And I hadn’t done anything fun for like six months - first year of pharmacy school, right? So when he introduced himself, I said ‘I heard you have a fun date organized for us; what did you plan?’ and his face did that,” she nodded her head at Morgan. “He went white, eyes bugged out, and he whispers... ‘rock climbing.’”
She laughed again. Sarah audibly sucked in her breath. Ian said “Oh God,” wincing with second-hand embarrassment.
“Yeah,” Dr. Hanrahan said. “We went dancing instead. I guess it turned out all right,” she smiled. “But anyway,” she turned back to Morgan, “you said you had a question for me?”
“Yeth,” Morgan nodded. “Can I obtherve with you for my clinical hours?”
“Of course!” Dr. Hanrahan seemed pleased. “I’d love to have you!”
