Chapter Four
Leo
“Idon’t know how you pulled that off, but I’m impressed.” Charles mopped his face as my patient was wheeled out of the operating room and off to recovery.
I wanted to admonish the nurses to watch the man carefully, but I resisted that urge.
Quinton’s words kept swirling in my mind.
He claims not all nurses are lazy. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt in this new hospital. New year, new leaf, new life. Or so you tell yourself. The memory of that horrible day kept popping up in my mind.
I removed my gloves, my gown, and my mask. As I stood for a moment, taking in the flashback of the chaos for Mr. Chavez and then the relief at perfectly executing the surgery, I took a moment to bask. I exited the OR and headed to recovery.
A nurse I didn’t recognize approached me. “Mrs. Chavez is in the waiting room. She’s got four children under the age of seven.”
I blinked. Then tried to do the math on that. Then hoped maybe she’d had a set of twins. I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Any other family members? Friends?”
The nurse, whose name tag read Sheila, shook her head. “They’re new to the country and have no close friends or family.”
And now the woman had a husband who would need care for weeks. “Is there someone we can get to help? A social worker? Community support care? He needs rest, and it doesn’t sound like he’ll get it.”
Sheila blinked at me—clearly surprised I’d thought of something like that. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” I headed toward the waiting room.
A petite, tanned-skin woman sat with a baby on her lap and three boys—all the same size—sitting in chairs. Lined up like that, they appeared terrified. And about six years old, if I had to guess.
Melodie’s age.
Right. But I couldn’t focus on that now.
“Mrs. Chavez?”
She nodded and was clearly about to try to rise.
I gestured for her to stay where she was. I picked up a chair and carried it so I could be across from her. Finally, once seated, I met her gaze. “I have some good news.”
She exhaled, and her eyes watered.
“First, Juan is in recovery. He made it through the surgery.”
She nodded.
“He had a faulty heart valve, and that’s why he was feeling so tired all the time. Normally I wouldn’t say it’s a good thing for someone to pass out at work, but that brought him here and a really sharp ER doctor diagnosed the issue.”
She nodded again.
In truth, I hadn’t asked if she understood English. I figured if she needed help, someone from the hospital would have located a translator for her. So I continued. “But this was open heart surgery. He’s going to be in the hospital for several days and then he’ll need total rest for a while.”
“We have no money.” She whispered the words. “Of course, he’ll rest. But—” She swallowed.
I could offer no solutions or make any promises.
Canada’s employment insurance program offered sick benefits—but I didn’t know if Juan qualified for any of that.
Still, I had to try. “I’ve asked if someone can come down to speak to you.
If there are any forms that need to be filled out, I’ll do them.
Okay? Whatever I can do to help. But I can’t stress this enough—he needs time to recover. ”
She nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes. I understand.” She blinked again. “When can I see him?”
“He’ll be in recovery for some time, and then he’ll be moved. At that point, you might be able to see him. But it should really only be you.”
She eyed her children. “I understand.”
“Dr. Rodgers?” Sheila approached me with a young man who barely appeared to be out of high school.
“Yes?”
“This is Ricardo. He’s the social worker on call. He can help…with many things.”
Hopefully that included navigating our country’s social safety net and watching triplet boys while their mother visited their seriously ill father.
I exhaled and then rose. I nodded to Ricardo. “Whatever you need from me, okay?”
“Of course.” He smiled and even I felt a moment of relief. Hopefully, he’d be able to do something. Anything. He nodded to me and gestured to my seat.
I nodded. Just before I left, though, I turned back to Mrs. Chavez. “If there’s anything you need, just have a nurse call me. I’ll be checking on Juan repeatedly over the next few hours.”
Again, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Thank you. Truly.” She sniffed. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Take care of Juan and your family. That’s all I can ask.” Which, I reflected as I left, was a huge ask.
Still, when I checked on Juan, and found him still sedated, I did a quick check on my list of consultations for the next day or so. Nothing too onerous. Nothing that would distract me or detract from my time for Juan.
I rounded the corner back to recovery to find Sheila leaning against the wall, with her phone. And what? Texting? Posting to social media? I saw red. “What are you doing?”
She looked up, startled. “Dr. Rodgers? Is something wrong?”
“Well, how would you know? You’re supposed to be taking care of my patient and you’re out here—” I gestured to her phone. “—doing God knows what. He might be having a crisis for all you know while you’re posting to Instagram.”
She appeared stricken—with her eyes going wide. “I’m on my break.”
I snickered. “That’s what they all say. If you’re on break, why aren’t you in the breakroom?” I put my hands on my hips. “It’s always the same—what with the excuses.”
“Actually, I’m trying to track down—”
“I don’t give a flying fig what you’re trying to do. I want you either taking care of my patient as you’re supposed to be, or out of sight. Patients and families see you with your phone and they’re going to make the same assumption I am—that you’re not taking your job seriously.”
She tucked her phone into her pocket. “I’ll check on—”
“Don’t bother. I’ll do it myself. To make certain it’s done properly.” With that, I stalked off into the recovery room.
Another nurse was in there, but they were at the computer and not checking on the five patients.
Anger rose inside me. Yes, Juan had not been on the schedule, so perhaps that was why the room was understaffed.
All the more reason for Sheila to be working instead of on her phone.
I headed for Juan. His color was improving and his vitals appeared strong as I checked the monitor. I removed my stethoscope from around my neck to check his breathing and was relieved to find it normal.
He stirred, restlessly moved his hand, and then sort of cracked one eye open.
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay. Juan. You had surgery, but you did well.”
“My chest—”
“Yes, you had surgery on your chest. I had to repair a valve in your heart. But you’re going to make a full recovery.”
“Inez?”
“Your wife?”
He nodded.
“She’s here. With the children. I told her that she could see you in a few hours when you’ve been moved out of here.”
“Is she okay?”
Wow. He’s just had major surgery, and he’s worried about her.
That was true love, right? My heart took a knock because there’d been a time when, if our positions had been reversed, I would’ve been worrying about Gideon and how he was coping.
“She’s holding up. She needs you to rest so you can get stronger.
All these problems you’ve been having were because of the faulty valve.
Things should get better—but you must take time off to recover. I can’t stress that enough.”
He blinked. “Yes.”
In truth, I didn’t believe him. But I couldn’t push any harder at this point.
Perhaps in another day or so, I could lay out the consequences of noncompliance.
“Rest now. The nurses will take care of you.” I glanced up to find Sheila at the foot of his bed.
I couldn’t read her expression—and I didn’t really care—so I nodded and headed out of the room.
At my office, I sat to review my notes. The surgery had been textbook-perfect. But that didn’t mean things couldn’t go wrong. Iana Howland was proof of that. And all because I trusted a nurse to do her job, and she hadn’t even managed that.
I blinked and tried to refocus on my work.
The time for regrets would come later. In the middle of the night. When no one was around to hear me screaming at the unfairness of life.
I’d done everything right.
Someone else had fucked up.
A young mother had died.
No matter how many people I saved in the future, it would never truly make up for that first loss.
On that note, I dug back into my paperwork.