“I’ll see you in Minneapolis next week,” he promises, and a week apart is so much more doable than a month.
“All these frequent flier miles are starting to stack up.”
He kisses me, his hands circling my waist, his thumbs rubbing the secret inside. “Might need to use them on a honeymoon after the season ends and before this baby arrives.”
“I don’t know where we’ll squeeze it in, but the idea of a beach vacation sounds pretty magical right now.”
“I hear that Cabo is a short flight from here.” He grins. “A weekend at least.”
I nod. We can do a weekend for sure.
Then I drive to the hospital for a second night shift on call with the interventional radiologist.
“How are you doing?” Dr. Okafor asks.
"Perfect.” It’s a bit of a fibbing stretch, but I am looking forward to getting back to work tonight.
“Any nausea?”
I shake my head.
He nods. “I ask because it can happen to pregnant colleagues, especially mid-procedure. If it does, hand sanitizer is a life saver. Just inhale a good whiff of it and it’ll buy you fifteen minutes of freedom.”
“Really?” I grab some from the dispenser and rub it on my hands, then breathe it in. I can see how it would help. “Thanks for the tip.”
“No problem.” His pager goes off and his tone immediately turns crisp. “We've got a femoral artery pseudoaneurysm coming up from the cath lab. Post cardiac catheterization complication. Should be a good learning case for you. What are the first steps?”
“Assessment. Stabilization. Imaging.”
"Good. And our approach?"
"Ultrasound-guided thrombin injection?”
“Very good.” He nods at the IR nurse who joins us in the angio suite. “This is Francesca Wilson, fourth year student.”
“Hi.” She verbalizes her checklist as we make sure we have everything we need. My pulse picks up, but doesn’t start racing. I love the adrenaline of a new case with every patient, never knowing what's going to roll through the doors next. The kind of medicine where you have to think fast and move faster.
The patient in his sixties rolls in on a stretcher, looking pale and understandably anxious.
"Mr. Kowalski, I'm Dr. Okafor. We're going to fix you right up. You’re a star tonight, did you know that? You’ve got a special audience. Francesca, introduce yourself as you do an initial assessment.”
The second thing we’re called into is a paracentesis consult in the ER. And just as we strip off our gear from that, there’s a five minute warning that a trauma is incoming.
My blood runs cold when I hear the details. A vascular injury at a late night rec league hockey game.
"Francesca?” Dr. Okafor's voice sounds like it's coming from underwater. "You coming?"
I nod, my feet moving even though my brain is still trying to compartmentalize the real case coming in the door. It’s not Logan, it’s not my dad, it’s personal for me.
“Patient name is Leo Chen, nineteen-year-old male?—”
My stomach drops. Just a kid.
"—skate blade laceration to the left thigh, significant blood loss at scene, pressure bandage applied by EMS?—"
I'm moving now, jogging alongside Dr. Okafor toward the trauma bay.
And then the doors burst open and EMS wheels him in, already giving report to the ER attending, Dr. Valdez.
