Colt tears off his surgical gown, removing his gloves and mask as he exits toward the scrubbing station.
I follow suit, removing my surgical gear and saddling up next to him at the sink.
I rinse my hands, letting the hot water burn my skin for an extra moment before reaching for the soap. Colt is done by the time I truly get started, and as he reaches for a towel, his gaze is focused on me.
I keep mine focused on the suds, scrubbing my fingertips until it hurts, refusing to look in his direction.
“Place post-op orders and follow him to the floor. I’ll be in my office when you’re ready.”
I nod, pursing my lips together to swallow the lump in my throat.
Colt watches me scrub for another moment before he realizes I have nothing left to say. He exhales, silently excusing himself and leaving me alone in my misery.
Chapter Nineteen
Colter
Myeyesflickerbackand forth from the computer screen, to my office door, and back.
Annaliese should have been here by now.
Even if she was overly cautious with monitoring our patient post-op before transferring him to the floor, she should be here. Even if she dictated her notes twice before submitting them, she should be done by now. Even if she took an extended shower while cursing my name under her breath, she would have been here by now.
Even if she’s pissed at me, cursing the ground I walk on, I don’t think she’d leave without stopping to check in first. She’s not the type to ignore orders or not follow through with her job. And as frustrated as she likely is with me right now, I’m still her mentor and she still needs to check in with me at the end of each day.
I sigh as I close the screen on my laptop, standing to tuck it into my bag when the sound of a palm hitting my door handle causes me to look up.
Annaliese shoves my office door open, moving inside with such a fury I can see the heat blazing in her eyes. She slams it shut behind her, never once removing her eyes from me.
Good.
This is the version of her I want to see, especially in the OR. Not the insecure, hesitant side of her I saw before. That isn’t who she is deep down, and that isn’t something she wants to let herself feel when someone's life is in her hands.
“How's our patient?” I ask calmly, coming around to stand in front of my desk. I take a seat on the edge, crossing one ankle over the other and bringing my arms up to cross over my chest.
She scoffs, stepping another foot closer to me and crossing her own arms over her chest. “He’s alive. Transferred to the step-down unit. BP is stable. I put in orders to have hemoglobin and hematocrit checked every six hours. Notes are dictated. Report given to on-call team.”
I nod once. “Good. You can be done for the day then.” I go to stand, ready to say goodnight to her when she takes another step toward me, her shoes brushing on the carpet.
“Good.Good?You nearly let that man die on the table, and for what? To prove some God complex? To let me flounder like an amateur? So you can run back to daddy and tell him that he’s right, that I’m a failure?”
It’s my turn to scoff now. “He wasn’t even close to dying. He lost fifty, maybe 100cc of blood if we’re being generous. You acted quickly, even though it doesn’t feel like it to you. ”
Honestly, if it were me and that happened, I’d likely still have discharged the patient tonight without a second thought. I grab my bag from my desk, opening my drawer to pull out my phone and car keys when she circles around me to catch my face. “So if you weren’t worried about the patient, why didn’t you step in? Why did you leave me hanging?”
I pause, taking the moment to look at her, to truly look at her, and only now do I notice the red lining of her eyes. She’s changed from her scrubs and into a pair of jeans and a cream sweater. Her hair is still damp from the shower, and I can smell the coconut in her shampoo. Judging by the bloodshot eyes and lack of makeup, my guess is she spent a few extra minutes crying in the shower.
My gut clenches, and I set my items down, turning to face her. I tuck my hands in my pockets, not trusting myself to be in close proximity with her and keep them to myself.
“I would never truly leave you hanging,” I tell her, the words coming out cracked.
Her shoulders unclench a little at my words, but her arms are still firmly crossed over her chest.
“You doubted yourself. The second you nicked that artery and saw blood, I saw it in your face. You looked at me to jump in, to take over and save you, but that’s not what you needed.” I pause, searching her face, hoping my words are soaking in. “You don’t need someone to save you; you need someone who pushes you to save yourself. You need someone who hands you the tools so that you can make yourself stronger, and that’s what I did. If I truly thought you wouldn’t have been able to find the source of the bleed and stop it, or that someone's life would be in jeopardy because you couldn’t handle it, I would have absolutely taken over.” And many times, with other residents in the past, I’ve done just that. I’ve kicked residents out of my OR for mistakes made. But the faith I have in her kept me firmly rooted to my place.
Annaliese has spent most of her life proving herself to her dad. All she wants is for him to trust in her abilities and know that she will make the right decision for herself, for her career. He still sees her as a child, as someone that can be manipulated as his own little puppet. I may not be able to give her everything I want to, but I can give her this.
She purses her lips together as her eyes search mine for a moment before her arms drop to her sides and her shoulders sag. I can still see the faint tremble that plagues her hands, and I’m confident it’s not from her blood sugar. She turns away, darting her tongue out to lick her bottom lip before she speaks. “That was terrifying. For a second I thought he would bleed out in front of me. I can’t even count how many surgeries I’ve scrubbed in on, but that was a first. It was a sickening feeling, thinking that I had just killed someone.”
