CHAPTER 15
RILA
— I'm getting all the annoying and inhibited drunks on this shift — she grunted as she approached the counter — Let me guess, Dr. Purke’s orders?
At the beginning of her life as a doctor, Rila was surprised by the number of drunks who visited the emergency room before seven p.m on a weekday. Now, it was just another Thursday. Except treating perverted drunks was the interns’ job, so she'd had her share of them.
But of course she would be punished for going over the head of the chief of trauma and saving a patient.
— Sorry, Rila — Pippa looked at her with dark eyes glowing with anger — We tried to help you by passing one of them to the intern, but he caught us red-handed. We had to listen to a five-minute monologue about how respecting hierarchy is important and blablabla.
— Asshole — she snorted and fell into the rolling chair inside the counter.
— Tell me about it. I'm gonna have a party right here in the ER the day this guy gets out, balloons and all — she narrowed her dark eyes as if she could already see the scene.
— We can wear little festive hats — Rila added, enjoying imagining the perfect scenario in which Dr. Asshole wasn't part of the hospital staff.
— What would the cake taste like? — the nurse asked as she played with strands of black hair between her fingers.
— We should order cupcakes in different flavors.
—Yes! This is perfect. We already have everything planned, now we just need one small detail — Pippa sighed — I don't think he's retiring anytime soon.
— Have a little faith, maybe he'll get fired tomorrow — she shrugged when the nurse looked at her with high eyebrows — What? A girl can dream.
They were staring at each other with smiles on their lips when the topic of the conversation approached. If he weren't a complete idiot and sexist, Lionel Purke would be a good catch with his perfectly styled black hair, straight smile, and dark eyes full of mischief.
— Dr. Hill, are you done with your patients? — he dropped the tablet on the counter and looked at her with superiority.
— Yes. Do you need help with something, Dr. Purke? — she smiled acidly, knowing that insinuating that he would need a woman's help for anything other than making him cum in one of the break rooms would annoy him.
— I don't need help from residents, Hill — his nostrils flared with his forced inhalation — You seem to forget that I'm your superior more often than is healthy for your career.
— Oh no, don't worry, my memory is great — she waved her hand in the air, dismissive of his speech as her smile widened.
If he thought he could scare her off by threatening her career, he would be disappointed at how wrong he was. Again.
Rila had no problem respecting the hospital hierarchy, she knew she was just a resident. But that didn't mean she would stay quiet and let an asshole walk all over her just because he was her superior. Lionel Purke didn't deserve her respect and certainly wouldn't have her fear.
— Well, then why don't you use that great memory of yours to tell me why you put a patient through a thoracotomy when a femoral catheter would be less invasive? — the surgeon spread his hands flat on the counter, leaning predatorily towards her.
He was referring to a patient who had arrived at the ER in the morning with shortness of breath and a cough that had started a few hours ago.
The almost perfect physical exam, except for a change in the pulmonary auscultation, could deceive and pass for the flu.
Except that Rila saw an increase in her heart rate and a slight drop in saturation on the oximeter.
Then, when they were doing the CT scan to confirm the suspicion of pulmonary embolism, the patient got unconscious. And that was when she made the decision that would be the best in that case.
— Because… — she was interrupted.
— You had a patient have her chest cut open and her ribs broken instead of sending her to the cath lab, where they would put in a simple catheter and send her home in two days.
— Dr. Harper was with me and agreed that a thoracotomy was the best option — Rila gritted her teeth and lit her chin while keeping her eyes glued to his.
The surgical residents had to rotate between them and take on shifts in the ER. Most didn't like it, as it meant less time in the operating room and sharing some procedures with the reds — that is, emergency medicine residents, like her.
— Dr. Harper is a fourth-year surgery resident, of course he's going to agree to open someone's chest. Give one of my residents a scalpel and they won't question it, they'll cut— at this point, Dr. Purke was no longer worried about keeping the conversation between them, and his voice was loud enough for some nurses to look at them out of the corner of their eye — So, Dr. Hill, why don't you tell me what the hell was going on in that head of yours to make that patient go through an excruciatingly painful procedure?
Rila knew he wasn't really interested in knowing why she made that decision.
If he was, he would have read the description of the procedure and seen why they opened the woman's chest. But no, Lionel Purke wasn't there because he was worried about the patient.
He was there to humiliate her in front of her team.
And she would not let that happen.
— That patient was my patient, and I made the right decision because she was my patient and I saw her medical history — Rila crossed her arms and continued to face him, making sure her voice sounded normal.
Just because he was practically screaming didn't mean she would do the same — History that showed platelet dysfunction that would have led to hemorrhage if my patient had gone to the cath lab.
And Dr. Harper also saw that this was necessary, considering that the patient was crashing.
She had little contact with surgical residents other than her friends, but she knew that Dr. Spencer Harper wasn't an idiot who just wanted to know when and who he should cut and stitch.
— I can get her medical records for you, and if there is any doubt that I made the right decision, I will take the case to the Chief of Medicine myself. I know I'm not right all the time, no one is, but I'm sure that in that case I made the right decision.
They were silent. Everyone around them who wasn't busy with some task looked at them furtively. Rila saw flames in Purke's dark eyes as his nostrils flared in a deep breath. If looks could kill, she would certainly need to be resuscitated at that moment.
— I want a detailed report on this case by the end of your shift — he straightened his body, moving away from the counter — And Dr. Hill, your words better match those of Dr. Harper and everyone else who worked on the case.
— It will be in your email, sir.
He cast one last stern look in her direction before turning on his heel and marching out of the ER.
— Girl, you got balls — Pippa, who remained by her side throughout the conversation, spoke after a few seconds.
— No, I have ovaries, which is so much better.
She sent the email to the chief of trauma five minutes before her shift ended and made a point of typing every little detail of the case.
And of course the little debate went through the hospital corridors and reached Jessica, who questioned her about it as soon as they arrived at the Beckers’ house for their weekly dinner. At least Rila got lasagna and fortune cookies to end that hellish Thursday.
They cleared the table, and Jessie was finishing loading the dishwasher while Rila and Aunt Alex were talking at the table. Actually, it was more of an interrogation on the part of the elderly woman, as her friend let it slip during dinner that the emergency doctor had a date on Sunday.
— When are you going to bring him here so I can meet him?
— Don't wait for that, Aunt Alex, it wasn't that kind of date.
— What do you mean? — the woman frowned, making a little more wrinkles appear on her skin.
— He was my first love, we had a thing for many years, but it didn't end well and he hurt me a lot.
Now, after six years, we met again and he wants to talk and start over again.
But I don't — Rila snorted and gritted her teeth, hating the pang that hit her heart — I wanna continue not remembering his existence.
But he is very persistent and, when he sets his mind to something, there is no one who can change it.
— Hm, looks like someone I know — a tiny smile drew on her lips.
— My stubbornness is cute, his is annoying — Rila rolled her eyes — Anyway, he showed up and made an offer. Three dates and he disappears if I still hate him at the end.
— And you accept it? — Aunt Alex looked at her with her brown eyebrows raised.
— Three dates and never seeing him again? Of course — Rila spoke as if someone asked her if the sky was blue — The first one is done, now there are only two left for this joke to end.
— Uhum — Alexandra's sneaky smile got bigger.
— What?
— I think you want to go out with him, want to get to know him again.
— Oh, please — she made a disdainful sound — I wanna get rid of him.
— Maybe a part of you really wants this, the part that suffered when you broke up — her cold, trembling hand held Rila's, her slender fingers gently squeezing hers — But I think that another part, the one that remembers the good times, wants to have him around again and is using this proposal as an excuse to do so.
— Sorry, but you're wrong, Aunt Alex. There's no part of me that wants him around.
— Okay, fine. What do I know? — the older woman's kind brown eyes twinkled playfully — I'm only sixty-five and barely lived enough to know a thing or two about love and heartbreak.
— It doesn't matter if a small, itty bitty, insignificant, and very stupid part of me wants anything to do with him. It won't happen because the bigger one, which is intelligent and rational, won't let it happen.
— Well, dear, there's just one problem: nothing about love is rational.