Under the Knife(14)

“Wendy!” she snapped. The acoustic peculiarities of the cavernous OR propelled Rita’s shout from one end of the room to the other and back, magnifying its effect. Wendy and Lisa flinched, Wendy more so. “Enough already with the twenty questions! We’ve all got work to do this morning. Move on. Okay? You found me here, and I’m awake now. Just get over it!”

Rita put her hand to her temple as the pain in her head spiked briefly to an almost intolerable level. She made a mental note not to raise her voice again until she was feeling better.

“Wendy,” Lisa said into the uncomfortable silence. “Why don’t you go over to the storeroom and grab the surgical trays from the sterilizer?”

Wendy thrust out her lower lip and slouched out of the room.

Lisa shook her head. “Ugh. Sorry about that.” She placed a hand on Rita’s shoulder. “How are you feeling, Dr. Wu? For real?”

Hungover.

The thought shocked Rita before it had finished forming in her mind.

Impossible.

She hadn’t had a drink in over a year.

Unthinkable.

“I’m okay, Lisa. Really.”

Lisa made a face and pointed to Rita’s left ear. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“You’re bleeding.” Lisa retrieved a package from a nearby cabinet, ripped it open, and plucked out a square-shaped piece of white sterile gauze. She dabbed it to Rita’s ear. She had a light touch, but the motion still made Rita wince with pain.

Lisa held up the gauze to Rita’s face. It was spackled with bright-red spots.

Rita frowned. “What?”

“It looks like it’s dripping from inside your ear. Here.” She placed the gauze in Rita’s hand and gently guided it to her left earlobe. “Put some pressure to it. I’m going to get your clothes.”

“My clothes?” Rita said, holding the gauze in place.

Lisa looked stricken. She pointed to a pair of scrub pants and matching top neatly folded on a nearby table, on which were lying a pair of white panties, bra, cell phone, hospital ID badge, and eyeglasses. A pair of white sneakers, with a grey athletic sock tucked into each of them, sat on top of a nearby stool. “Yours?”

Rita blushed. “Yes.”

Lisa carefully laid the cell phone and ID aside, picked up the clothes, and brought them over to her. She checked Rita’s ear again. “I think it’s stopped.” She tossed the blood-dappled gauze in a red trash can. “I’ll guard the door.”

Rita stood up, unsteadily, and dressed herself as Lisa stood vigil at the door, at one point shooing away Wendy and another nurse.

Once dressed, Lisa handed her a scrub cap. Rita touched her shoulder-length black hair, which felt like a bird’s nest and probably looked worse. In violation of OR sterility protocol, her hair wasn’t properly covered, which, if possible, left her feeling even more naked and vulnerable.

She took the cap, slipped it over her head, and tucked her hair underneath the expandable elastic edges. “Thanks.”

“Your operation this morning. Are you going to be—all right for it?”

No weakness.

“Uh, sure.” Rita slipped her cell phone in the back pocket of her scrubs, smiled wanly, and wondered if she really was in any kind of shape to cut into another human being this morning.

So, she suspected, did Lisa, whose concern etched deep lines in her forehead and drew the corners of her mouth downward. Lisa was one of the best nurses Rita had ever worked with: smart, confident, compassionate. They’d been together almost ten years. In the way of an outstanding caddy counseling a professional golfer, Lisa knew more about Rita’s surgical skills—what she was capable of and, more importantly, what she wasn’t—than Rita.

But Rita also knew she could not back down. Not now. Lisa opened her mouth to say something, but Rita talked over her.

“I’m good. I’m, uh, just going to head over to the locker room. Maybe take a shower, grab some coffee. Clear my head.”

“I’ll walk you over to the locker room.”

“No, thanks, Lisa. I’m good.”

“I have to go over that way anyway.” She folded her arms and thrust out her left hip. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Rita clipped her ID badge to the front of her scrub shirt and put on her glasses. They were stylish, with thick black frames. She winced as the left end piece slid over her sore left ear. She usually wore contacts, except when she worked late nights at the hospital.

She and Lisa stepped into the corridor outside. Rita kept her head down. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention.

“Good morning, Dr. Wu! Hi Lisa!” A passing nurse flashed them a sunny smile. She was carrying a box of bladder catheters. “Big day! The auto-surgeon operation today, right? Off to an early start this morning?”

“Um. Good morning, Becky. Yes.”

“Hi, Becky,” Lisa said.

“Good for you,” Becky chirped. “I mean, gosh. The auto-surgeon operation. Gosh. Everybody in the hospital’s heard about the auto-surgeon. So exciting, Dr. Wu. Good luck! Have a terrific day!”

“Thanks, Becky.”

Becky sped away, cheerfully greeting a male nurse several paces down the hall. His reply was clipped and surly. He was staring at his cell phone and mumbling. A short distance beyond him she spotted Wendy, a conspiratorial grin playing about her lips, engaged in an animated dialogue with another nurse, who was listening with a rapt expression that oscillated between surprise and morbid fascination. They didn’t see Rita or Lisa. Rita couldn’t hear what Wendy was saying, but she had a good idea what the topic of the conversation was.