Hotshot Doc(17)

Today of all days, the city streets are pure gridlock.

“Maybe you could just hop up on the sidewalk for a mile or two? Just to get around this wreck?”

The driver thinks I’m kidding and laughs heartily. I want to climb over the seat and shove him out of the way so I can get behind the wheel, Grand Theft Auto style.

I wonder how many years in prison you get for hijacking someone’s car.

My knees are bouncing like I’m ready to run, and I do as soon as the Uber pulls up to the hospital. I leap out of the back seat, dart through the lobby, run up the never-ending flights of stairs, and slide onto the fifth floor like I’m on ice. I’m so close to the finish line. I can see the operating room at the end of the hall, the one I should have started to prep about thirty minutes ago.

I’m breathing like an old geezer at the finish line of a marathon.

People unknowingly step into my path and I shout at them to get out of my way.

“Move! Watch it!”

I have time to recover, I tell myself. I won’t let this late start ruin my one chance to impress Dr. Russell. I’ve set up an OR quickly before, and I know how to kick it into high gear. I check the surgical board as I sprint past and confirm that yes, the surgery has been delayed by twenty minutes (Don’t panic!), but it’s still going to happen.

In room four, I’m expecting the worst: a messy, disorganized OR that needs to be completely overhauled, but fortunately, my luck turns. Dr. Russell’s nurse is already inside prepping the room. She’s tall, with extremely short hair and round, navy glasses. She’s older than most of the surgical nurses on the floor and when she sees me enter the room, I am fully prepared for her to chew me out for being late.

“Oh my god, I’m so sor—”

She holds up her hand and cuts me off. “If you want to survive your first day, you’ll stop right there, turn around, and go get changed into scrubs. I’ve got this. Dr. Russell knows you’re late. I couldn’t help that when he came in here and saw you were missing, but we can salvage this. Go. Hurry!”

My mouth drops open in shock.

I think…I think she’s my fairy godmother.

I bolt and do as she says, running straight for the scrub vending machine. It’s a hulking beast of a contraption at the very end of the hallway. It’s where we all grab our scrubs before every surgery, and it’s where we turn them back in when we’re done so they can be sanitized. I think of Dr. Russell’s stupid comment on Friday: Where do you even find scrubs that small?

Right here, you jerk.

Though, I do have to roll the elastic band a few times so they’ll fit snugly, but he’ll never know that.

I’m changed and looking the part when I rush back into the room, adjusting my ponytail so it sits a little higher on my head before I cover it with a surgical cap. I puff out a breath and prop my hands on my hips. I have dried tears on my cheeks and shaky hands, but I am so close to pulling this off.

“Where do you want me?”

The nurse nods toward the back door of the OR, the one that leads to the room where the hospital stores its clean instrument sets. “Go in and check that they have everything ready to go. The autoclaves were backed up earlier and I don’t want anything else delaying this case.”

I do exactly as she says and I don’t declare my love for her like I want to. There’ll be time for that later, like after this surgery goes off without a hitch. Ha. I’m going to buy her a gift, something epic, something with melted chocolate.

That is…if I survive the morning.





Chapter 8





MATT



“We’re looking at a thirty-minute delay, nothing more.”

Mrs. Valdez is wringing her hands. Her husband is pacing. They’re both worried. Fiona should have been taken back to the OR already, but the surgical team hasn’t moved her. I understand their concern. They’ve traveled 1400 miles to be here today. Their daughter is about to have a major operation. Any number of things could go wrong. They won’t, of course—I won’t allow it—but her parents don’t know that.

They don’t trust me, and now this delay is giving them even more cause for concern.

“Back home, the doctors weren’t sure about this procedure,” Mrs. Valdez says, turning to her husband and shaking her head quickly. She’s about to pull the plug on this whole thing.

I step forward and try to catch her eyes. I need her to listen to what I’m about to say. “I understand, but that’s because those doctors don’t have the skills I do. I’ve spent my entire career working on complex pediatric spine cases. This surgery is exactly what I’ve been trained to do. I promise your daughter is in good hands.”

There’s movement behind them, at the door of the room. It’s my nurse, Kendra.

“We’re ready,” she mouths while winding up her finger as if to say, Let’s get this show on the road.

I nod and inwardly sigh.

That means Bailey has finally arrived. Late on her first day.

I have another surgeon assisting me today, Dr. Collins. He’s a colleague I’ve worked with in the past. It’s a hassle coordinating our schedules, but he’s good, and for this case, I need all the hands I can get.

Unfortunately, that means Bailey has not only wasted my time, the patient’s time, and my staff’s time, but also Dr. Collins’. The operating room is booked up for the rest of the day. If this case runs late, that means the hospital is shitting money and we have an entire surgical crew pissed that we’ve eaten into their schedule.