I didn’t even know he was visiting from the US until he replied to my email asking whether he could come in and see the boy for himself. Take a look at the physical scans and maybe get a fresh one done.
He’d been one of the hardest people to learn from, he knew exactly what buttons to push to make you want to do more and be more and learn more. Within the first two weeks most of the other students had moved to other programmes or asked for a different mentor. I liked him, even if he had made me into his student bitch. It’d all been a part of my learning curve. He’d helped me become the surgeon I was.
It took a little over two hours to get through all twenty-three patients on my list. Thankfully the majority were adults in recovery wards. I only had three patients in the Intensive Care and High Dependency Units. Technically all of them should’ve been in the HDU, but I wanted the Davies boy monitored 24/7 with one-on-one care. So, he’d been allocated to the Paed’s ICU. I could sense that I’d ruffled some feathers with that demand, but then again what was the point of being a big shot if I didn’t pull rank once in a while?
I walked into PICU with one of the students spewing a recap of the case behind me. I actually just wanted to tell him to shut the hell up because he sounded more like he was regurgitating than thinking about the case and hopefully taking the initiative to come up with a suggestion on how to move forward. Not, that he’d have a hope on God’s green earth of coming up with something I hadn’t looked at already or that Quincy hadn’t brought to my attention.
I rounded the corner to the glass walled room and it was like the mere thought of her was enough to make her materialise. She sat in the recliner next to the bed still in her scrubs, her feet tucked under her and a book in her hands that I recognised as Pippa’s favourite. The Twits.
I had read that book more times than I could remember. It used to be Phillip’s favourite. He always carried his battered copy with him everywhere he went. He said when shit got real he liked to open it up and lose himself in make believe and thoughts of when he knew nothing but the fun and wonder of the world. When his belongings had been sent back with what was left of him Gwen had given it to my sister so she could give their son a little piece of his dad.
I never understood why she let him go off into Africa when she was pregnant with his child. But I suppose it wasn’t my place to understand it either.
I turned to the three trainees behind me and shushed the still jabbering wreck. I felt sorry for him, I did, but I still had moments where my fists were too attracted to his baby face.
Picture the nerdiest guy you’ve ever seen and then times that by…a thousand and then add another ten or twenty on top for good measure and add a generous amount of unwarranted arrogance. That was the little prick currently eyeballing Quincy like he was the cat and she was the cream.
“There’s nothing new with this patient. You all have things to get on with. Murphy, chase the labs for Mr. Rowley. You,” I looked at Mr. All-Talk-No-Substance. “You need to actually take in what’s in those files. So, I suggest you find somewhere to sit and go through them like you actually want to help those people. And by somewhere I mean far away from here.”
All three of my musketeers scurried off. I hadn’t wanted to be harsh, but if he wasn’t there to learn and help people he had no place with me. Sometimes all the freshies needed was a little poke to get their initiative flowing. I hoped that it was enough for this guy. Although, if I had to let that disciple go, I would. Without hesitation.
I stood behind the glass with St. Ermin’s crest etched all over it, watching as Quincy read the story to the little boy like he wasn’t in an induced coma. She was so serene and the way she looked him over every time she turned a page made me smile.
I knew she’d argue with me if I ever pointed it out, she didn’t like to admit it, but she always got attached to the more volatile cases. It was like she wanted to make sure that they could feel how special and cared for they were.
I smiled as she glanced first at the sliding glass door and then straight at me through the glass. It was like she could sense I was watching her.
I slid the door open just enough to slip into the room.
“Don’t you think he’s a little too young for that one?” I walked over to where she was sitting and swept her long fringe out of her eyes.
“You’re never too young for this lunacy.” She waved the book in the air, her thumb marking the page she was on. “Anything new?”
“No. The steroids are working, the scans from yesterday show that the swelling has gone down slightly.”
“I saw that you’ve put him on Carbatrol. Why haven’t you brought him round?”
“Reading the notes?”
“More like making sure you’re on the ball, he’s my patient too.” She teased.
“Honestly? At this point another seizure would do irreparable damage, I can’t take that risk.” I sat on the not so comfortable chair next to hers. “They really need to put some decent chairs in these rooms.”
She turned to me with all signs of her teasing gone. “You can’t, or you won’t?”
“Both. I won’t because I need a chance to fix this, and I can’t because I don’t believe that bringing him out of the coma is in his best interest. Neither his heart nor his brain can take anymore.”
“You’re letting yourself become emotionally attached to him, Jamie.”
“And you’re not?” I pointed at the book in her hand.
“I’m not the lead on this.”
“Fine. What would you do if you were?”
“Well, if I was a brain god I would do exactly what you’re doing.” She smiled. “And as a heart surgeon, I agree that his heart won’t be able to cope with any more trauma. He’s lucky enough as it is.”
“So what was the point—”