Lauren directed her attention to the barely five-foot tall beauty, who sat down beside her with a grace Lauren herself would never possess. “Well, let’s see what you went with. Coat off.”
Emma raised an eyebrow and shrugged out of her white coat, her silky black hair sliding across her shoulders. “I don’t know why it matters, I’ll be wearing my coat when I go into patient rooms,” she grumbled.
Lauren was pleased to find Emma had chosen a modest blouse that covered her newly enhanced chest. For the most part. “See? That’s lovely and perfectly appropriate for work.”
“What’s happening here?” Kiara asked.
“Lauren’s a prude,” Emma said.
Kiara’s expression went flat. “What else is new?”
“Excuse me,” Lauren protested. “You can put those things on display all you want, on your own time. But at work? Gotta keep it professional. You don’t want Mr. Jones to have a stroke when you examine him today, do you? I’m only thinking of your patients.”
“I know. You’re right. I just got excited. Today’s the first day I didn’t have to wear that restrictive support bra. It’s been weeks since I had my surgery, and I haven’t been able to enjoy them.”
“They look great. You definitely made the breast choice,” Lauren said, careful to keep a straight face.
Kiara burst into laughter, and Emma dropped her forehead to the desk with a groan.
Lauren cracked a tiny grin. “Come on, I’ve been dying to bust out the boob jokes.”
Emma’s shoulders shook. “Holy shit. Stop it.”
“Eh? Bust? That was a good one, wasn’t tit?”
The three of them dissolved into giggles.
“Why don’t we go to happy hour after work?” Kiara suggested after she’d caught her breath. “We’ll celebrate Emma’s boobs and Lauren killing her presentation today, bringing her one step closer to being our permanent clinical pharmacist.”
“I’m in,” Emma said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
“Me too,” Lauren said.
“Excellent.” Kiara turned back to her computer and straightened her back—her cue that social time was over. “Okay, time to work. Lauren, Dr. Patel’s already in the room with a new lymphoma patient. You’re still on that rotation, right?”
“Yep, today’s the last day.” As a resident, Lauren was required to rotate through the various clinics to gain experience in all areas. She’d become close with Kiara, Emma, and Dr. Patel over the past two months, and part of her hated to move on. Luckily, her next clinical rotation shared the same office space, and she’d still see them most days. “Tomorrow I start multiple myeloma.”
“Dr. Patel will want you to do a chemo education for the new guy,” Kiara said. “We’re going to use you every second we can. I guarantee tomorrow morning when Dr. Patel realizes she doesn’t have a pharmacist anymore, she’s gonna march to Dr. Hawthorne’s office and demand he hire one.”
Lauren shook her head. “Not yet! You have to wait until I’m done. You handled the clinic without a pharmacist before I came along, you can do it again. It’s only until next summer.”
“You want us to suffer for eight months just so you can have a job waiting?”
“Yes.”
Kiara pursed her lips. “Fine. Emma, Mr. Jones is waiting in room twelve.”
“Got it.” Emma looked around. “Where’s my stethoscope?”
Lauren pointed to the apparatus, resting on the counter beside Emma’s computer.
“Thanks.”
Lauren logged into the computer system and pulled up the chart of the nine o’clock patient, Andrew Bishop. Her heart sank when she saw his age. Twenty-six. It was sad for anyone to get cancer, but it was particularly hard to see the young ones. This guy was a year younger than her.
Newly diagnosed Hodgkin lymphoma, stage IIB. Her frown lightened. High cure rate. She knew right away what chemotherapy regimen he would need and printed out patient education leaflets for each of the medications.
A few minutes later Dr. Patel entered the room. “Can you get me the images from the PET-CT done at St. John’s? I have the report, but I want to look at it myself. I want blood work today, return in two weeks,” she said to Kiara, then turned to Lauren. “Mr. Bishop needs ABVD, start with four cycles and then a repeat scan. Could you talk to him?”