The walk to the hospital is short, and I put my stuff in my locker. I pull my hair into a ponytail, then put on my white coat and my pink stethoscope. I’m on my way to rounds when Shuana comes to walk right next to me.
“You missed a serious GSW to the neck last night. I thought he was going to kick it, seriously. Dr. Hugh performed an emergency surgery, and he let me close!” She’s bragging, and I should feel jealous, and I am. But not about her closing the surgery, it’s the fact that she got to save somebody. The adrenaline of being the first to touch that patient and be the deciding factor of them living—that is what I’m jealous of.
“That’s cool, Shuana.”
“More than fucking cool, Blake,” she says, using my last name. “I saw him remove a bullet from someone’s fucking vertebra.”
“I believe you.”
“God, you’re no fun. What crawled up your ass?”
You… you did, Shuana. Now can you leave me the fuck alone?
We’re luckily saved by Dr. Hugh handing out cases. “Blake, you’re with Mayfield. Hoft, you’re with me. Mann, you’re with Dr. Paulson, and, Croxford, you’re with Dr. Hess.” There’s no other direction. We just take our files and head toward our assigned attendings.
Shuana has a huge grin on her face from him assigning her to himself, like she’s now the head of neurosurgery’s favorite. Like congratulations for just being on call last night, you smug bitch.
With my files in my hand, I head down to the neuro unit. At least I’m with Dr. Mayfield today, one of the more tolerable attendings.
“Dr. Blake,” she says with a smile as she messes with her tablet. “Today is going to be a rough one.” I take a deep breath and nod, pulling up today’s cases. She motions her hand for me to update her on what I know.
“Clara Henderson, age twenty-two, survived ovarian cancer three years ago. She now has a metastatic brain tumor. She’s had radiation, which has made a difference, but it is pressing against the temporal lobe and needs to be removed.”
“You will be assisting and observing the surgery. We’re scheduled for tomorrow. Please check her vitals and make sure you are prepared for the craniotomy.”
“Of course, thank you, Dr. Mayfield.”
She nods, not even looking up at me as I head to the patient’s room.
“Hi, Clara, I’m Dr. Blake. I’ll be getting you ready for surgery tomorrow,” I say softly. I make sure to leave the overhead lighting off as I speak with her. One thing I’ve learned in neuro is how horrific hospital lighting is.
“It doesn’t matter,” Clara says, looking out the window.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Like I’m going to die tomorrow,” she says glumly. I’m already planning on staying the night at the hospital tonight, so I’ll be ready for the surgery tomorrow. But another part of me wants to stay and monitor Clara’s emotional wellbeing.
“Has Dr. Mayfield gone over the treatment plan with you?”
“It’s for the best, you know. To just die on the table instead of having this come back. I can’t even think straight,” she says, tears welling in her eyes and gliding down her face.
“Hey,” I say, touching her shoulder gently. “Dr. Mayfield is the best. If she didn’t think she could get it all or improve your quality of life, she wouldn’t do it.”
“What life? I’m twenty-two years old. I’m a burden on my family, my life hasn’t been normal since I was seventeen, what’s the point?”
I take a deep breath, my heart breaking for her. How is one person supposed to take so much pain in such a short amount of time?
“Do you have anything you’re passionate about?” I ask her. She blinks at me, not expecting the question.
“I really wanted to go to fashion school,” she says. and I smile back at her.
“Then you’ll go to fashion school. Dr. Mayfield is going to do your craniotomy tomorrow, and depending on the outcome, you might not need anymore radiation. But even if you do, we will monitor the tumor, and you’ll be able to live a full life, Clara.”
She shakes her head, and I know she needs a more positive outlook for tomorrow. It breaks my heart that she doesn’t feel like she has a reason to fight. I know the surgery is not minor, that her tumor is large and so many things could go wrong, but I just want her to have something to look forward to. To not spend her last day before surgery feeling like life isn’t worth living.
“Thanks for trying. But can you just take my blood and leave?” she says. I take a deep breath and nod.
“I’ll have your nurse take your vitals and come and check on you shortly.”
