Falling Forward Read Free Page A

Mr. Garvin was arrested on suspicion of attempted murder. I can’t give you any more details, but you might want to contact an attorney. We will need a statement from you.” She walked away.
    I was troubled that she had handled that so callously. I mean, this cop had come to my home, and paraded my husband, in his underwear, and in handcuffs, while all my neighbors watched. My entire life had just been upended in minutes. Any sane person grounded in reality knows you can’t ever fully recover from a situation like this. I knew people would be talking behind our backs for years. And I’m sure one of my knucklehead neighbors was recording this. It was only a matter of minutes before this ended up on the news, or worse, permanently viral on YouTube.
    Although I was still in shock, kicking pieces of my disturbed and now faded pine bark mulch off my cobblestone driveway while watching the six or seven police cars pull away with their lights still flashing, I was already doing damage control. The evil Christian minister remained in front of his house, staring ominously, shaking his head, noticeably judging me. What a dick, I thought. Obviously, we’d have to move. There was no way we could stay here and ever return to anything closely resembling normal. It would be years before enough of my neighbors moved away, and even then, the stragglers would perpetuate the legend of what had just happened at my home. 
    Thankfully, I don’t lose it in crisis situations. I quickly came back to reality and realized I needed to call work to tell them what was happening before it hit the news. Hopefully, I could save my job. But what about Richard’s clients? How could I possibly save his business after a story like this? Once you’re arrested for anything in this day and age, you’re guilty until proven innocent. We would definitely have to leave the area – and possibly the state. Depending on what the outcome of Richard’s situation was, maybe we’d have to leave the country. I had always wanted to visit Iceland.
    At that moment, it hit me. For the first time, I realized what it must feel like to be on the receiving end of a cancer diagnosis. I had been handing them out for years, nonchalantly, never realizing what’s really going on in their minds. Someone just told you that you have an incurable disease that will assuredly cause an inconvenient, uncomfortable, and untimely demise. I found it difficult to explain the emotions that you experience in a moment like that. The only way I can seem to equivocate it is when you feel like you’re running at full speed with your eyes closed, knowing you’re about to inevitably run face first into a wall. Everything just stops. You’re in a surreal daze. Nothing seems normal, and nothing – not the past, present, or future – seems to matter. You feel as if you have already died, but you’ve been given the benefit of some additional time to clean things up.
    What is truly difficult to understand is that everyone handles it differently. I didn’t believe I was ever quite as callous, but how could I know how anyone perceived my words? Did I do enough to convey that the patient was more than just another case, but a living and conscious being? Were my words nothing more than a well-rehearsed routine? Were the officer’s words more of the same? I doubt he realized he had just given me a death sentence. What I hadn’t realized was this was the first of several I’d receive on this special day, my 42nd birthday.
    “Think, Olivia. You’re a problem solver. You’re smart, clever, and always in control,” I told myself aloud, still standing in my driveway, with most of  my neighbors still watching. I know, in my heart, that I am not a cold and callous person. And anyone who knows anything about me knows I do care deeply about my patients, my friends, and my life. Although I can’t remember ever shedding a tear, I have felt extreme sadness. I felt awful that I couldn’t muster a