My hands tremble, and I forget that I’m a surgeon for a moment. I’m just a loved one. I’m someone who’s scared. My heart is racing. I can’t breathe. Her blood drenches my hands. Her shirt is ruined. Her eyes are closed.
I bend down, pushing her hair out of her face, careful not to touch any glass that’s cutting into her skin. “Olivia? Olivia, can you hear me? Oh god, baby. Oh my god, what happened? I need you to wake up for me, okay? I need you to come back. We have plans. We have plans,” I chant, more to myself than to her.
I’m grabbed by my shoulders and turned around to find a devastated Winston staring back at me. His eyes are red too, and panic has paled his face, but his jaw is set firm. “You’re too close to this. Call in another neurosurgeon.”
“Fuck you. You’re close to this too! Call another general surgeon. I’m the best there fucking is. No one else is operating on her brain.”
“Then get your shit together!” he roars, the nurses in the room busying themselves with getting Olivia stable to transport to the OR.
I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. I know he’s right. I have to be better. I have to be the best right now. Her best chance of survival is me.
“Wait!” Jane bursts into the trauma bay. “She could be pregnant. We found a pregnancy test in her car. The impact must have caused all of the groceries to scatter.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Winston asks, his voice hoarse.
“The woman I plan on spending the rest of my life with is injured and possibly pregnant.” I check her pupils to see if they’re still reactive. “No. I’m not okay.” The left pupil is blown. “We have to get her to surgery immediately. Lift pupil is fixed and dilated. We might have to operate at the same time. Having your brother here would be great. We could use a trauma surgeon right now.”
Winston shakes his head. “The amount of time it would take to get him here, it might be too late. We have to go now. There’s no time to waste.” He fixes me with a look. “You’re sure? You’re sure you can do this? Because if you?—”
“If I what?” I snarl viciously, with the intent to maim and fucking kill if he says one more fucking word. “If I kill her? You do your job and make sure she doesn’t bleed out from the glass in her leg, and I’ll worry about her brain. And someone call her mother!” I shout as we run out of the trauma bay to the OR.
“I’m on it.” Jackie runs to her desk. “I’m positive her mother is her emergency contact.”
Everything blurs as we move at what feels like the speed of light. The floors blur, becoming a white sea of ink. Coworkers and patients fade. The fluorescents are brighter, casting down on us like the heavens, reminding me of our mortality.
It’s hard to focus when my entire life is hanging on by a thread.
Even scrubbing in is difficult. I’m on autopilot, watching through the glass as the OR team prepares Olivia for surgery. I scrub to my elbows, my mind in shock, trying to remember who I am and what I do every single day.
I take a deep breath and center myself. I can do this. Her life is in my hands. I’m the best one here to save her.
We have plans.
And I intend for us to follow through with them.
I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. Nothing could take my consciousness away. Not when I’m sitting in a chair beside Olivia’s bed, a tube down her throat to help her breathe, her head wrapped in gauze, her eyes shut, her leg and arm in a cast.
She’s so strong.
She should have died from these injuries. She lost so much blood. I remember Winston shouting for supplies as blood dripped off the table and onto the floor.
I lean forward, trying to forget the red ocean of the floor, the rapid pace of her heartbeat, the way we had to defibrillate her heart once to bring her back.
I’ve never been more terrified. This was my horror movie, and I never want to replay it. I want to forget. Pressing my palms against my eyes, I suck in a few deep breaths, but it isn’t enough to calm me. The tears fall; I can’t stop them. I grip her hand, pressing it against my cheek, knowing she won’t wake up for a few hours or even a few days.
But I can’t help wanting to see her big green eyes now.
I beg, “Please, Livie. Please, wake up. Please, please, please.” I kiss her knuckles. “Please. I need you here. I can’t…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to be here without you. You’ve changed my entire world and how I view it. There’s beauty now instead of darkness. That’s because of you.”
I stand, leaning over her bed, and drag my knuckles down her cheek. “Please, wake up for me. I love you. I love you so much.” I’m getting impatient, even though I know she can’t wake up. It’s too soon. The doctor inside me knows that, but the man who loves her? I’m finding it very difficult to remember the facts when my entire heart is clinging to life.
“How’s she doing?” Olivia’s mom, Marie, comes into the room, sniffling and holding two cups of coffee.
“There’s no change. It’s still early. If she doesn’t wake up after a few days, that’s when I’ll worry.”
Marie nods, handing me a cup of coffee. “I’m glad it was you who operated on her. She was in the best hands.” She drags a chair over to sit next to me. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.” She pats my shoulder, then gives it a squeeze.
“I know. You’re right. I just…planned for this night to go so differently. We had this entire weekend planned before my own surgery and—” I pull out the ring I’ve had in my pocket all day.
