DRAKE – CHICAGO FREESTYLE (FEAT. GIVEON)
ARI LENNOX – CHICAGO BOY
LOIC NOTTET – DOCTOR
DR DREE, EMINEM, SKYLAR GREY – I NEED A DOCTOR
BON JOVI – YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME
TORY LANEZ – WHO NEEDS LOVE
IL DIVO, CELINE DION – I BELIVE IN YOU
TAE MCRAE – STUPID
CALUM SCOTT – DANCING ON MY OWN
ED SHEERAN – THINKING OUT LOUD
“You’re sure you can survive on that?”
I glance down at my cup of black coffee and then back at James Sullivan. We’ve been working together since we were interns, and he was my roommate before that, in our Princeton days. He should know by now I work just fine on caffeine. It’s the only thing that gets me through the day. Addiction? Maybe. Should I know better? Yeah, but I don’t care, I have sixteen hours workdays.
“I’ll be fine.” I say and dismiss him as he shrugs his shoulders at me.
“When did you switch to decaf?”
Huh?
“I didn’t. I need this shit too bad.”
Calmly, Sullivan fixes the lid on his cup of green tea and glances at me.
“Zach, this is the decaf pot. Didn’t you see the nurses change it? The regular is on the other end of the counter.”
What the fuck? That’s why my head has been spinning all day? Man, that’s fucked up.
I throw my drink in the nearest bin and go to fix myself up. I’m pissed. Hell yeah, I am. I like systematic things and the lounge was just fine, there was no need to move shit around.
“You could have told me before I had three cups of this morass.”
“I just walked in, my man, I had an overnight shift down at the E.R yesterday and I needed the sleep. I thought you knew they rearrange the snack bar and the bookshelves in here.”
“Why would I know that?” It’s not like I have a lot of free time to chat with the nursing staff like my friend here does. “Who lets the nurses play around here?”
He punches my shoulder and scowls at me.
“Don’t be a dick, man. Who do you think brings the fresh coffee and muffins here every day? The hospital fairy?”
OK, so the nurses take care of the lounge, why would I know that? And why would I care? I have far more important things to do.
“By the way,” Sullivan goes on. “Today you’ll have to meet your new scrub nurse. Did you clear your schedule to give the orientation?”
I was supposed to do that? I firmly believed someone in HR should take this responsibility and send me someone who already knows the ropes around here.
“I don’t have a lot of time to spare. Can’t someone else do it?”
“Didn’t you listen to anything at yesterday’s briefing? Yes, you have to do it yourself, most of the staff is busy as hell this weekend, it’s the opening of the free clinic.”
Oh right, Chicago Mercy General Hospital was paying its dues to the community today, opening the new free clinic, all sustained by private donations. That’s why it’s like a ghost town in here, just a few of the doctors and medical staff were left behind. I’m on call because I specifically asked to be left the hell out of this grand opening, I’ll do my rounds at the clinic when this rush is over.
“So, I have to babysit?”
“You have to show your practice to someone who’s gonna be your right and left hand in the OR.”
Or the pain in my ass. I had a great scrub nurse, Patrick. He was awesome. Everything was ready for me, he knew my technique and he was always two steps ahead. I can’t believe he left me for two years to be on paternal leave and now I have to deal with this rookie.
“Great, I’ll make sure this new nurse knows exactly what I do with my hands, maybe she will do it for me.”
I smirk in his direction with arrogance. Being a surgeon is my hobby, my full-time job is to fuck with Sullivan.
“Pig. And it could be a male nurse anyway. Actually, I hope it is. No lady should be forced to put up with you.”
“Oh, but you do it every day, and I think you enjoy it.”
This gets me another punch, this time in my abdomen. If my mother could see us now, she’d say something like: no matter how old we are or how smart, boys will be boys.
“Go do your rounds, Zach. You’re scheduled to meet the new staff in two hours, ER admission desk. The paperwork is in Chief ’s office.”
“Wonderful news, Mrs. Kawasaki, post-op labs look great. I’m positive your husband will be up and running in no time.”
With no rush, the woman takes her reading glasses off, puts them in her purse, and then looks at me.
“Really? He’s going to survive a heart attack, just like that?”
She’s in her fifties but a total MILF. I’m talking busty redhead with pumped lips. It’s a wonder she’s still married to the guy who had so much fat on his heart, picking up a book was too hard for him.
“Yeah, I’ve performed a coronary artery bypass graft, as we discussed. Basically, what we did is create a tunnel for the blood to flow to his heart, so if your husband takes the right precautions and makes some changes to his lifestyle, everything will be perfect from now on.”
“Ugh!”
Ugh? He’ll live. Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m not explaining things right. I have a reputation for not being the best communicator around.
“Ma’am, your husband will be fine.”
“I got that; I just had hoped he’d at least be a vegetable after this.”
She polished her manicured nails on her cherry-red blazer like we were chatting about the weather.
Frankly, I don’t know how to respond to that and I don’t want to. It’s not my damn business to do marriage counseling. Maybe if Mr. Kawasaki would pay more attention to his wife than to hamburgers and cigars, he wouldn’t be in a hospital bed and she wouldn’t wish him dead. But again, not my fucking pot to stir.
I put down his chart and try to walk out, but she steps in my way.
“You think I’m heartless, hoping for him to worsen, but I’m not.”
“Actually, I do not care about that. My job is to keep people from dying and if that’s not according to your plan you have to take it up with Hippocrates and his oath, not me.”
“He’s a moron. We’ve been married for twenty-one years, made an empire together, and what does he want to do now? Sell the shipping company and retire. What a stupid fool.”
The worst part about being a doctor is that sometimes patients will get confused and believe the surgical wing is actually the psychiatric wing. No, that’s three floors up. “So yeah, him in a coma or dead would help a lot with my hostile takeover of the company.”
Mrs. Kawasaki steps closer and touches my biceps. For someone her age she looks great and she’s very damn bold to come onto me in the middle of the hospital. Kudos for that.
“I’m sorry, doctor, for making you uncomfortable, but trust me when I say I’m not a stone-cold bitch. I’m just smarter than my husband.”
She looks me dead in the eyes waiting for something, but again, I make the smart choice of shutting the hell up and after a few moments she nods, understanding.
“Ok then.” Her hand slides down my arm and tugs on the pocket of my lab coat.” I’m at The Langham on North Michigan Ave for the next ten days. Find me if you want to.” And she turns around on those impossibly high heels and walks out.