Hotshot Doc(8)

Just the thought of Dr. Russell ever finding out about that picture sends a shiver down my spine.

No.

There’s no way I can work for him.

Maybe Josie’s right—would living on the streets really be so bad?





Chapter 4





MATT



I’ve been accused of being set in my ways by a few people in my life, and they’re right. I rely on routine. I eat the same breakfast every morning: protein smoothie, four egg whites scrambled with freshly cracked pepper, turkey sausage, and two cups of coffee (one right when I wake up and one when I arrive at work). After breakfast, I work out. That routine stays the same every day too. Cardio. Weights—not so much that I’m an over-engorged beast, but enough that I can stand over an operating table for nine hours and torque a spine without breaking a sweat. Core work is vital.

I wake up at 4:00 AM Monday through Friday, and I’m in my office by 5:30. If there’s a resident or a fellow on my team, I prefer for them to meet me at this time so we can go over the case schedule before we start rounding. During rounds, I check that post-op patients are recovering and go over any final questions with my pre-op patients and their guardians. I’ve learned to pad this time. Parents are always nervous, and children always come up with the most random, curious questions. Often, it’s about the anesthesia.

“You mean I won’t remember anything? It’ll feel like I’m sleeping? Will I dream?”

Today, I’m in the office at 5:00 AM, even earlier than usual. I have a routine procedure scheduled in a few hours, but I wanted to spend some time looking over Fiona’s file. Her parents aren’t sure they want to go through with the surgery. They’re confused why so many doctors turned her away and yet I’m willing to try. They don’t want to put their daughter in danger, which is understandable, but still, my gut tells me they’ll be back. Her case is severe and they’re going to be completely out of options soon. When that time comes, I want to be ready.

Unfortunately, when I arrive at my desk, I discover I won’t have the thirty minutes of uninterrupted time I was craving. My voicemail announces thirteen unheard messages, and there are a few dozen emails demanding responses. Two doctors are requesting a surgical visit in the upcoming week. Another one is asking for my assistance on a case on the west coast. It’s not unusual as there are so few of us who specialize in complex pediatric scoliosis.

Before I reply to the emails, the blinking red light from my office phone demands my attention. I press play and listen while I tidy up my desk. Three of the messages are from Victoria, telling me “it’s nothing urgent” but asking me to call her back as soon as possible. I wonder why she didn’t just call my cell phone, and then I remember I forgot to give her my new number. It wasn’t intentional, but now I wonder if it’s not better this way.

I have no idea what she’d want to talk to me about, but since it’s not urgent, I skip past her message and make a mental note to get back to her when I have the time.

“Knock knock!” Dr. Lopez says from the hallway as he opens the door and waltzes into my office without a care in the world. “Do you have a second?”

I don’t look up. “No.”

Undeterred, he walks in to take a seat across from me. I think he’s half-tempted to prop his feet up and interlace his fingers behind his head, but he knows that’d be pushing it too far.

“I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s homey in here.”

He’s staring pointedly at my framed diplomas stacked against the wall behind my desk, still waiting to be hung. Beside them, there’s a mountain of issues of European Spine Journal and old textbooks. Spinal hardware litters most of my couch. Admittedly, it’s a mess. It’s why I meet my patients in the conference room for consultations.

“It’s like stepping into the laboratory of a mad scientist,” he notes with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find the secrets of the universe in here.”

He’s wasting my precious time. “What can I do for you, Dr. Lopez?”

“Oh right—busy busy. We doctors never have enough time, do we? Well, I’m about to get a lot more of it actually. You’ve heard I’m retiring, haven’t you?” A rumor has been circulating for months, but I never thought he’d actually go through with it so soon. He has another five years of surgery left in him, ten if he pushed himself. “Yup. Laurie’s pretty excited. She has all sorts of plans for us for the coming months—a Caribbean cruise, holidays with the grandkids. Your parents live here, right?”

I nod as I start sorting through my emails, triaging the most important ones and deleting the ones from medical device reps I don’t care to entertain.

“Lucky for them. They’ll be close by when you have kids. All the better to spoil them rotten.”

Kids. My gut clenches. Right. I tense and finally glance up at him.

“Congratulations on your retirement,” I say, my voice professional and unfriendly. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

He grins and threads his fingers together on his lap. He looks mighty comfortable in my office, like he plans on staying here for quite some time.

“Sort of. You’ve probably heard me mention my surgical assistant a time or two?”