The past couple of days had been weird, to say the least.
There was a wall between Emma and me that’d seemed to pop up overnight. I couldn’t figure out where it had come from. I would try to be playful and tease, but she didn’t respond anymore.
When I asked what was wrong, she said she needed to take things a little slower—which I was fine with if that was what she needed. I wasn’t going to force her into a relationship or physical contact that she wasn’t comfortable with, but what scared me was that we were growing further apart, and I didn’t know how to close the gap.
I pondered over the situation on my drive to work, my stomach twisting the whole way. Losing Emma was inconceivable. My life just didn’t make sense without her in it.
Despite my anxiety and an impending sense of doom, I got to the hospital in plenty of time to prep for my first surgical case. However, when I went to pull my schedule, I noticed that the patient who should have been my first case was no longer there.
“Hey, Sandy, do you know what happened to my first case?” I asked the OR charge nurse. Sandy was one of the staff members who had given me a four-star review. We’d come to an easy working relationship.
She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I was told it was a scheduling error and that you decided not to do surgery on that patient.” She carried a question in her voice.
“What? No. He needs surgery before he has a major heart attack.”
She had a puzzled look on her face as she typed in her computer and pulled up the patient’s most recent chart note. “Are you sure? Your note says that you decided he wasn’t a good surgical candidate.”
What was going on? I remember doing his note. I finished it right before a code blue a few weeks ago, and I’d explicitly put that he was high risk but young enough that I felt the benefit outweighed the risk. “Let me see that note, please.”
She enlarged the window to fill the screen as I came to stand behind her. To my surprise, that was what the chart note said, and it had my electronic signature at the bottom.
“Okay, let me figure out what is happening.” I headed to the elevator to find and speak with the department head. Things didn’t add up. I didn’t want to believe there was foul play—it had to be a clerical error. Whatever the case might be, we needed to get that man into the OR stat.
The elevator opened on the third floor of the heart center and I practically ran into Emma in my hurry to get off. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I reached out to steady her so she didn’t fall over.
I was the one who needed steadying, as her tearstained cheeks caught me by surprise. Her eyes were filled with hurt that was both personal and heartbreaking. I tightened my hold on her arms as if I could hold her together as she fell apart. Whatever had happened was tearing her heart out.
“Don’t touch me,” she rasped.
I yanked my hands away, shocked at the way her warm green eyes turned hard. “What happened?” I asked, full of concern. “Are you okay?”
“It’s happening again. It’s all happening again.”
I didn’t understand. “What’s happening again?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I’m being played by a man.”
Was Eric back? “Emma, honey, talk to me.” I grasped for straws. “Is Eric bothering you?”
She scoffed. “Nice, trying to play ignorant when you know exactly what is going on. I didn’t take you as a liar, but I guess I try too hard to see the best in people.”
Stunned at the accusation, I did my best to keep a calm voice. “Emma, I promise I haven’t lied to you about anything. Why are you so upset?” If she’d just talk to me, we could get to the bottom of this and she’d see that all I had in my heart for her was love—and at the moment, concern.
“You know exactly what I am talking about—more black-and-white thinking. Aren’t you supposed to be in surgery right now?”
“Yes, I am …” I started, but before I could continue, she cut me off.
“Why aren’t you?” she practically growled.
“What?”
“Why aren’t you in surgery?” she spat out.
I balked, my chin jerking back as if she’d struck me.
“Oh wait, I know. ‘Patient is too high risk, despite the fact that he is only 45 years old.’” She placed air quotes around the phrase that was in the chart note that I’d never written.
“How would you even know that?” I answered. This didn’t make sense. She wasn’t treating that patient. How did she know what his chart note said?
