27. Cole
27
COLE
I sat behind my desk with a stupid grin on my face. Either Rose was my good luck charm or life was finally starting to cut me some slack. I set my phone on the desk in front of me, cautious of the time, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Victor had just called to let me know the coast was clear. The patient who had been hounding me for months with the threat of a career-ending malpractice lawsuit had just dropped the entire suit.
I didn't know what influenced his decision or why he'd decided not to pursue a lawsuit anymore, but it was the best news I'd gotten in weeks. I had to take a moment to breathe it all in and let the feeling soak into every cell of my being. I wasn't going to be sued now, and it was such a weight off my shoulders.
After months of worry and toil, I felt home free, though I did still have to figure out how to handle the tremors I was having in my hands, but that seemed like such a small thing now that the pressure of a lawsuit was off. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to take the rest of the day off and plan something special for me and Rose to do together that would help me put the last few months' struggle behind me.
I thought for a moment about what might be special. She'd been coming a few times a week to cook for me, but I spent most of my nights feeling worried and stressed out so I hadn't given her the attention she deserved. For a while, she tried to initiate intimacy with me, but I just wasn't in the mind frame to enjoy it. I felt like I'd done her a disservice with the way she was so attentive and caring, and I had just been a lump.
I sent her a message asking her to join me for dinner, and she responded immediately with an affirmative. I told her I had good news, and she said she had something she wanted to tell me too. I wasn't sure what that was about, but I had spent the last few months obsessing about a lawsuit. I wasn't going to spend a single second worrying about what she had to say. Whatever it was, we would work it out and be fine.
Once I knew she was coming, I ordered from a special Italian restaurant and told them to deliver it by five. Then I called and asked my neighbor to use my hide-a-key to come in around a little before four and set up candles and soft music. With everything set up, I sent Rose one more message letting her know if I wasn't there right at five, to let herself in and I'd be there soon. Then I made my way toward the elevators.
Before I even got in the carriage, I was stopped by a phone call. It was my emergency line and the call was from the hospital number, so I couldn't ignore it. I swiped to answer and held the phone to my ear as I pressed the elevator call button.
"Hastings… What is it?" The elevator took a second, and I listened to the nurse as I waited.
"Dr. Hastings, this is Ellen from Emergency. You’re the doctor on call this evening. We have a myocardial infarction and we need you in OR One, STAT." As she said the words, my chest tightened and I knew there was no getting out of this. I had passed on so many surgeries, but on my on-call night, there was nothing I could do.
"Yeah, give me vitals…" I stepped onto the elevator the moment the doors opened, and Ellen started rattling off the patient's vitals. It sounded to me like we were dealing with a complete blockage which meant if I didn't do emergency surgery immediately, the patient wouldn't make it.
I took in all the information on my march toward the operating theaters. It meant I definitely wouldn't make it home by five, but if I did well, I could be there by six at the latest. When I approached the scrub room, I shot Rose another text asking her to be patient with me and told her about the surgery, then I ducked into the scrub room and turned my phone off.
The procedure was simple. I'd done angioplasty before, and hopefully, that was it. My scrub nurse helped me get scrubbed in, and I walked into the theater prepped and ready to go. The room was chilled and I wasn't quite prepared for it. Typically, angioplasty didn't require cooling the patient significantly, and I looked up at the monitor to check his vitals. It was only then that I realized I wasn't doing an angioplasty. This patient needed a full bypass.
I knew right then and there that I wouldn't be at the house even by six. It made me frustrated, but I couldn't take time to feel my own feelings. I moved to the side of the table and extended my hand. "Scalpel, please." The nurse passed me the scalpel, and we were in business.
The first part of the procedure went well. I made the initial incision and used the bone saw to cut through his sternum. As I did, another surgeon worked on selecting a vein from the man's leg muscle to use as the bypass. We worked in tandem the way any good team would, and in under three hours we had the bypass in place and I was ready to close the man up. I knew Rose was waiting, but I wasn't trying to rush anything.
As I began suctioning the blood out of the chest cavity, I noticed something horrifying. My hand twitched, and it wasn’t the first time during that surgery it had happened. The amount of blood I was suctioning off showed me something had gone wrong and I hadn't even noticed it. No one had noticed it, not even my perioperative nurse.
"Dr. Hastings?" she asked, leaning over the man's open chest cavity. "We have a bleeder…" She turned up the suction slightly and took the hose from me while repositioning the light so I could see more carefully.
I didn't know how this had even happened. I had to have nicked one of the arteries when doing the bypass, and I felt frantic and tense as I packed the chest cavity with gauze and she suctioned off more blood. He wasn't bleeding profusely, but it wasn't something I could leave open. I was so angry with myself.
All the surgeries I had performed like this in emergency situations and never once had I done something so stupid. I silently cursed myself as I located the wound. By the time we found it, one of the other nurses had another needle ready for me. I stitched it shut and breathed a sigh of relief, but the clock read eight p.m. and I knew Rose was probably frustrated with me.
Dr. Grant and I finished the surgery and closed him up, then we waited for another thirty minutes to ensure our patient was stable and ready to be moved to recovery. No one said a thing to me. They probably didn't know what to say. I'd just jumped out of the frying pan, figuratively speaking, and my team knew if what happened got reported to the higher-ups, I'd be right into the fryer. That wasn't something I wanted to even think about happening.
I walked out to the parking garage and got in my car before even turning my phone on. I hadn't gotten any more of a response from Rose via text message, but I missed two calls from her. I knew she was probably upset. I glanced at the clock on my car radio and saw it was after nine. The food was probably long-since cold and Rose might have given up and gone home. I started my car and headed out, setting my phone to use hands-free mode. When I tried calling, she didn't answer. I didn't blame her. I was upset with myself. She had every right to be angry or hurt. I invited her to dinner and then I stood her up.
I drove all the way to my house and parked, and when I didn't see her car, I knew I'd ruined things. I was still relieved the lawsuit had been dropped and I was out of the woods as far as that was concerned, but it did worry me that I hurt Rose and didn't have a way to apologize to her. Leaving a voicemail just wasn't an option. I wanted to speak to her in person.
And the tremor during surgery that led to that artery being nicked had me shaken too. Enough that I knew something had to be done. I couldn't just keep going on like nothing was wrong. If no one reported things this time, I was still running the risk of it happening again, and there was no telling what would happen next time.
I let myself in and walked right to my liquor cabinet, which had been my routine for weeks even after telling myself I had to quit drinking. When I got there, however, I realized how futile that was. Drinking hadn't done anything for me except to help me bury my emotions for a while, and tonight, I didn't want to bury things. I wanted to feel. I wanted to heal my heart and be a better man, a better surgeon.
So I got on my phone and pulled up the website for Dr. Ballard. He had mentioned a few options for treatment that would help me potentially put these tremors behind me for good, and I knew I had to stop pretending I could manage this myself and do the right thing. I was on the right path forward now, and if I ignored this and jeopardized my future, I'd never forgive myself. Rose deserved a man who could take care of her, and that's what I wanted to be.
How could I take care of her if I couldn’t do my job? It was time to face the inevitable and get proper treatment.