I guess I’m not a very good actor, but I won’t apologize for faking it. It was clear Melissa was struggling on the run, and equally clear that she wasn’t going to stop until she hurt herself.
Me: Of course I did.
The three dots appear, disappear, and appear again.
Melissa: Thanks, Luke.
On Wednesday, I have a bitch of a day at work. The morning starts with the news that naturopathic treatments didn’t work for Mrs. Meecham’s colon cancer, and she’s in the Emergency Room with a bowel obstruction. I have to cancel my first case of the day—an elective gallbladder operation—to take her to the operating room.
“This would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if we’d done it last week, before she obstructed,” Nick remarks, as we carefully dissect around the swollen bowel.
“Yes, thank you, Nick.”
“And I read a study looking at outcomes,” he continues, oblivious to my irritation. “The risk of complications more than doubles when this surgery is done on an emergency basis.”
“I’m aware, thank you, Nick.” I should have tried harder to talk Mrs. Meecham into having surgery last week; if I’d kicked her daughter out of the room, I might have been able to convince her.
Mercifully, Nick finally picks up on my frustration, and he keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the operation.
The afternoon is taken up by another colon cancer case, which is somehow even harder than Mrs. Meecham’s. By the time I make it home, I’m spent. I spend an hour at the gym, but it doesn’t fix my mood.
After a shower and a frozen dinner of rubbery macaroni, I stretch out on the couch and flip on the TV. Nothing on Netflix looks interesting. I finally settle on amystery about a serial killer, but I can’t focus on it, and when the credits roll after the first episode, I don’t have a clue what happened.
After the second episode, I give in to temptation and text Melissa.
Me: You gonna make it to our hockey game Thursday?
Melissa: Yeah. Sophie’s cousin’s going to babysit
Me: Are your kids asleep?
Melissa: Yep
I punch the button to call her.
“Hey, Luke.” She sounds surprised to hear from me.
“Hey, Milly. What are you up to?”
“Lying on the couch watching Netflix. There are about a million other things I should be doing, but I’m too tired.”
“I know that feeling.”
“What are you doing?”
“Lying on the couch, wishing I’d chosen a different career.”
“Bad day?” she asks sympathetically.
“Awful. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to get this job.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
I sigh. “Remember the lady with colon cancer, whose daughter wanted to go the naturopathic route? She came in with a bowel obstruction and needed urgent surgery, and it was a mess of a case. I should have convinced her to have it done last week.”
“Don’t be silly, Luke. You couldn’t talk her into surgery if she wasn’t ready.”
“Maybe not,” I admit grudgingly. “Then, the second case was colon cancer again, and it was even worse. Even the healthy tissue looked like it would fall apart if I looked at it wrong. The guy seemed okay when I left, but I’m worried his bowel will fall apart overnight.”
