4
Alison
“But he’s going to be okay, right, Doc? We caught it in time?”
I squeezed the bony hands of the woman sitting next to me in the family waiting room on the med-surge floor at Tampa General.
“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Rooney. Thanks to you insisting that your husband come in to see me, and the two of us getting him to the hospital fast enough, I don’t expect there to be any complications. Appendectomies are fairly straightforward procedures these days. And since the appendix hasn’t ruptured, that’s a point in our favor.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Dr. Wakely. I just don’t know what we would have done without you.” Tears trembled on her eyelashes. “No other doctor would’ve opened up the office on a Sunday just to see one patient.”
“Well, if I’d realized what was going on, I might have just made a house call and saved you the trip. But it’s probably good I didn’t, since it was easier to get Mr. Rooney here from my office.”
“That’s true. I’m not sure we could’ve gotten him here in time otherwise.” She shook her head. “Dang stubborn man.”
I hid a smile. The couple had been married for nearly sixty years, and both were over eighty. But they were some of my favorite patients. Knowing that Mr. Rooney was safely in the hands of an excellent surgeon relieved me greatly.
“Is there anyone I can call to come wait with you?” I asked. “Your son or one of your daughters, maybe?”
“Oh, I already called my granddaughter, and she’s on her way. She lives around here, you know. Works at the library. And then my kids will get here as soon as they can.”
The words had no sooner left her mouth than a young woman with curly red hair came flying into the room, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with exertion.
“Grammy! Are you okay? Is Grampy all right?”
Mrs. Rooney beamed and nodded. “We’re both fine. This is Dr. Wakely, dear. She saved Grampy’s life.”
It only took me another ten minutes of assuring the granddaughter that everything was going smoothly and enduring a few more rounds of thanks from Mrs. Rooney before I managed to leave the room. I was glad that I didn’t have to sit in the waiting room—I was far too antsy to be good company to Mrs. R—but I still didn’t plan to leave the hospital until I knew Mr. Rooney was out of surgery and doing well.
I stopped at the nurses’ station and asked that someone text me once my patient was in recovery, and then I left the floor, vaguely thinking about looking for coffee or possibly some cookies. My stomach was growling, and I needed a sugar fix.
I’d only been here to Tampa General once before, and making sense of the maze of corridors and wings wasn’t easy. Somehow, I got completely turned around and ended up down in the emergency room instead of the cafeteria. I was just looking for a way out of the ER when I heard a familiar voice coming from one of the bays.
“Is anyone out there? Anyone planning to come in and make sure I’m not dead in here? Can I get an update, please?”
I paused, unsure for a moment what I should do. I was a doctor who had privileges at this hospital, but there were certain lines, boundaries that I knew existed. Just because technically Icoulddo it didn’t mean Ishould.
But on the other hand, if this was indeed who I thought it was, the least I could do was to see what was going on and find out if I could help in some way. I tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear and eased apart the privacy curtain, peeking in.
Two things hit me right away: the first was that I’d been right: it was indeed Noah Spencer lying in that bed. The second was that in the many months since I’d seen him in person, I’d somehow forgotten how huge the guy was. Noah had always struck me as a literal giant, both in height and in breadth. He was built like a brick wall, muscle layered over muscle, with a chest so wide, the hospital bed looked as though it was barely containing him.
He noticed me right away, and his face, which was already lined with obvious pain, drew in as he stared at me.
“Uh . . . Alison, right? Is that you, or am I hallucinating? If I am, it’s gotta be out of pain, because it sure as hell isn’t the pain meds that no one here has bothered to get me!” He bellowed that last line, and I winced, resisting the urge to clap my hands over ears.
“Let’s try to use our inside voices, shall we?” I stepped into the cubicle and drew the curtain closed behind me. “Yes, I’m Alison. You remember me?”
He turned his head and rolled his eyes. “Of course, I remember you. We hung out quite a bit a couple of years ago. When you were working at St. Agnes.”
“Yep, that’s right.” I took one step closer to the bed, feeling a little as though I was approaching a barely contained tiger at the zoo. “What’s going on, Noah? Why are you here?”
With a grimace, he pointed down to his right leg. “Took a nasty hit in the game today. My knee . . . well, I guess it’s my knee that got all fucked up. But I don’t know, because they did the fucking MRI and then they stuck me in here and fucking forgot me!” His voice raised a few more decibels, and out of instinct, I reached out to touch his shoulder.
“Okay, shhhh. I get it. You’re in pain. But please remember that you’re not the only person in the ER, and some of them might not appreciate your . . . loudness.”
Noah’s jaw clenched, but he nodded as he rolled his face away from me. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t like to be this way, but dammit, I’m in agony, and I don’t know what the hell is going on, and—I feel like I might puke. I’m laying here and all I can think of is what if this means I’m never going to play again? Are they all off trying to figure out how to break the news to me?”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.” I turned the bag hanging on his IV pole to read the label, and my stomach plunged. Whether he knew it or not, Noah was already getting some pain relief. Clearly, it wasn’t enough. I could tell by his respiration and the etched lines on his face that he was still suffering.
