Any time I bring up the subject to him, he blows me off. All I can think about is that he’s lost confidence in me. That having a seizure in front of him like that has him rethinking everything including my ability as a doctor.
He says I’m reading too much into it. Possibly so. But still… the proof is in his actions. He’s all over me and not in a hot or sexy way. In a way that demands management and limits my work. Especially my OR time.
It requires me to take matters into my own hands and fight about it later. Which we do. He gets pissy when I go behind his back and schedule surgeries or don’t consult him every time I go into one. In return, I fight back, and we end up having hot, sweaty sex somewhere in the condo. Or in his office.
That was yet another thing that took time to come back.
I practically had to force him into having sex with me and the first time we did, he was terrified that when I orgasmed, I’d seize. Nope. Thankfully that’s never been a trigger for me.
But still, the man needs to learn that just because I’m epileptic doesn’t mean I’m going to cower and wilt at a little stress and extra work. I never wanted this disorder to define me. Yet, I still see some of it in the eyes of the people I work with. The people who either saw me seize or heard about it. They look at you like you have cancer. A plague.
Something terrifying and catching.
Fighting with people to force them to view you as you are is the ultimate uphill battle. For anyone. But I can’t change people’s perceptions with words, I can only do it with actions, and letting my epilepsy win isn’t an option for me.
Even if I did feel a little dizzy when I woke up yesterday morning.
Something I’d rather die than tell Carter about because I know how he’ll react.
I get it. I scared him. I had a seizure, but I’m epileptic.
It’s unfortunately what we do and as much as I’d like to imagine that was the last seizure I’ll ever have, I know it’s not. But in the month since I had that seizure, I haven’t had so much as a twitch. So him treating me like I’m a porcelain doll is grating. And sweet. I know it’s sweet. I’m lucky with him. He’s the mystical prince from my dreams I never imagined real. I’m crazy about him. But I need his trust too and I don’t feel as though I have it.
Most of the time.
“Dr. Hammond, can I have a word with you?” Carter barks into the open OR, mask held up over his mouth, causing every head other than mine to swivel in his direction.
“I’m busy at the moment, Dr. Fritz.”
“Surely Dr. Westerfield can set aside scrolling through her phone to take over for you. This is your third surgery today. That seems like at least one too many.” Damn him, it is not too many!
Dr. Westerfield with how much I’ve been working with her lately will let me in the OR. I didn’t even have to offer up favors of the non-sexual variety to get this surgery behind Carter’s back. No way in hell am I giving it up now.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Fritz. This really isn’t the best time. I’ll be sure to come find you when I’m done.”
Carter snarls out a slew of unkind words before storming out of the OR. And God, is he hot when he does that or what? I think it’s safe to say holding off from falling for my attending has been a futile attempt at best. But I’d rather be on scut for a month than admit that.
“Cauterize here, Dylan.”
“Wooh girl. You have ice in your veins,” he comments as he does as instructed.
“I second that,” Dr. Westerfield mutters without removing her eyes from her screen—her typical MO while letting me do her work. Absolutely no complaints there. “Let’s just say I’m glad I’m his boss and not the other way around. I get the pleasure of ignoring him, you don’t have that luxury.”
“The man treats women delivering babies. Surely he’s more than aware of just what our bodies and minds are capable of. My attending needs to relax.”
“I don’t think that’s the issue,” Sally, the scrub nurse on this case, says to me. “Dr. Johnson broke her wrist and Dr. Fritz has been unrelenting with her. With you, he’s careful and worried.”
I shake my head dismissively and make a show of rolling my eyes. “He barely works with me anymore. He’s always too busy teaching Dr. Johnson.” I try to keep all bitterness and contempt from my voice, but I’m positive it leaks through anyway. But fuck, it hurts!
“You landed a Fritz,” she continues, effectively dismissing my point. “That’s like mining for diamonds or diving for pearls and coming up with a jewelry store full.”
I snicker at that. “I’ve landed no one. I’ve known Carter since I was born. That’s all this is. Besides, who cares if he’s a Fritz? Their money is the least interesting or special part of any of them. I’d rather he spend more time teaching me than worrying I’ll have another seizure.” The way he’s doing with Janet.
“Honey, I’m not even talking about his wealth or even his celebrity,” Sally continues. “Though neither of those are anything to sneeze at. I’m talking about the man. He’s gloriously gorgeous, deliciously arrogant, brilliant with a scalpel, and absolutely batshit crazy in love with you.”
“Totally,” Dylan exclaims. “If he pitched for my squad, I’d be his batter anytime.”
“Blah. You’ve all been watching too much nighttime drama TV,” I grumble. “He’s not my Mc-anything.” No, he’s my Mc-everything. “Working for him makes me want to drink tequila all day long and smoke copious amounts of weed, only I can’t because I’ll have another public seizure and then they’d revoke my license before shipping me off to Betty Ford. The man stresses my last nerve in the name of being my attending and it doesn’t look pretty on me.”
“Such a hardship,” Dylan quips. “A billionaire doctor looking after you. Remind me to send you a condolence card while shedding a tear. I’ll be sure to discuss your tragedy at my next Gays Take Boston night out.”
I blink at him. “That’s a thing? And why am I not in on that? It sounds fabulous.”
“It’s a thing, but only if you’re LGBTQ+, which we know you’re not.”
“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. Whatever. I’m officially hurt I can’t party with you like that. Can we finish this surgery and not talk about Dr. Fritz?”
“Fine,” Dr. Westerfield jumps in, finally putting her phone away. I kinda forgot she was here. Oops. “But in the interim, while you’re complaining about your attending, I like having someone else do the brunt of my work, so I won’t complain about Carter putting you with me.”
Well, now I feel bad. I probably shouldn’t have opened my mouth like that in front of her. A fellow attending to Carter and his boss. Something I frequently forget with how chill she is. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said all that about Dr. Fritz. I’m beyond grateful for the opportunity to work with you, Dr. Westerfield.”
“A point you’ve proven, which is why I let you operate behind Carter’s back. I’m his boss, so I can get away with it. Just as long as I get an invite to the wedding. Or that Gays Take Boston thing because I agree, it sounds fabulous.”