“I don’t know what the right answer is.”
I laugh. “There isn’t a right answer. I just want to know what you think. You say the other attendings yell at you, but I don’t. How would you prefer your training to progress, Gabriela? Do the strict standards for perfection help you, or do they increase your anxiety? Would you prefer that type of education, or my more laid-back style? Or do you need something in the middle?”
The panic on her face settles into thoughtfulness. “Maybe... the middle?”
Okay. This is feedback I can use. A teachable moment. “So the next time the cord is still that full, let some blooddrain into the bucket before you try to fill the tube. The stream will be easier to control. See? You live, you learn. I’m not going to yell at you, though, especially since it was hilarious.”
A grin lights her face.“This is Chanel, child,”she says in an affected accent.
I laugh again, picturing it. “Priceless.”
Her eyes go a bit starry. “I love working with you, Doctor Foley. I hope you know that.”
Aw. Well, that’s another little boost, isn’t it? Two residents in one day. What’s happening?
“Thanks,” I say. “I like working with you, too.”
“You—um—may want to do something about—” She motions to my neck, where the blood she sprayed—the blood I’d forgotten about—is now drying.
With a quick thanks, I head toward the dressing room for the second time. I pass the lockers lining the walls and the benches covered in street clothes to reach the shower stalls at the opposite end, sinks across from them.
Wow. My reflection is ghastly. A strip of blood makes a perfect line across my throat, like I’ve had a shave with Sweeney Todd.
As I scrub it away, I consider Gabriela. Perhaps it isn’t what I’m doing, but what I’m not doing, that contributes to my reputation. Joke less, advise more. I can do that. Well, the advising part anyway. That’s easy, right?
But then I remember the patient in the ER, fearful of me being her surgeon just by sight alone.
I don’t fuckin’ know.
One step forward, two steps back.
Tired of analyzing it. Ready to get out of this place.
Luckily, my last stop of the day is to room four—my patient, Juliana, was admitted in labor half an hour ago. I enterto find her grunting through a contraction, but managing it well. Her husband rubs her back.
I freeze upon entry.
That’s the same man from earlier. Generic white guy. Iknewhe looked familiar.
And this is the worst.
His gaze meets mine, and he gives his head a subtle shake before his wife grimaces in my direction.
“Doctor Foley, can I have an epidural now?”
I blink away my visceral disgust to grin at her. “Of course, Jules. Go for it.”
After a quick rundown of the plan and what to expect, I bid her good-night and assure her my partner on call will take care of her if anything arises.
She’s grateful, and I do my best not to look at the father of her baby. Outside the room, I head for the elevators, internally cleansing my mind.
Wife in labor. Girlfriend in the ER with possible life-threatening condition. Both of them technically his fault.
I shouldn’t judge. Maybe they’re in an open relationship. Maybe they’re polygamists.
Or maybe he’s a cheating asshole.
The elevator door catches before it closes, sliding open to reveal the man on the other side. He’s wearing the most sickening smile.
