42. Miley
I ’m freezing as I pull my blue OR cardigan tighter around me. The surgeons sweat under the lights and their layers of sterile clothing so the OR is kept in frigid arctic temperatures to keep them comfortable. Meanwhile, anesthesiologists like me shiver behind the curtain.
I spy Dr. Rosato on the other side of the curtain.
This feels like déjà vu. Dr. Rosato is scrubbed in with Hannah, and I’m on this side with Dr. Kumar, Rohit’s dad. I’m here to do my job, so I don’t let that bother me, but it is slightly awkward since I still have no idea if he knows that Rohit and I are together. He hasn’t said anything and I don’t want to bring it up–not in the OR when I’m supposed to be a consummate professional.
“What are the three anastomoses formed during a Whipple?” I hear Dr. Rosato teaching.
Hannah, as always, responds with confidence, “The anastomosis between the pancreas and the alimentary tract, also called the pancreatic-jejunal or pancreaticogastrostomy anastomosis, anastomosis between the biliary tract and the intestine, and the gastro-jejunal or duodenal-jejunal anastomosis.”
“Excellent. I see you have been studying.” Dr. Rosato’s eyes come close to beaming with pride. But not enough pride to let her off the hook. “Which anastomosis is the most likely to cause a leakage?”
“The anastomosis between the pancreas and the alimentary tract,” answers Hannah.
I have no idea what they’re talking about anymore, so I tune them out to check my monitors and Rhonda’s vitals. Everything is stable, for now, but I can’t relax too much. Quinn reversed her a-fib before we took her to the OR, but her heart rate could become erratic again at any time.
Dr. Kumar says something and breaks me out of my reverie.
“What?” I ask, not hearing his question. I’m worried he’s going to judge me, that he’s going to think I didn’t know the answer, when in fact I didn’t hear the question. “Sorry I didn’t hear you.”
“That’s ok, I know you were focused on the patient,” Dr. Kumar replies.
I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I take the easy out and wait for Dr. Kumar to repeat his question.
“I was asking what you would expect during a surgery like this, from our standpoint. What is something you would need to prepare for in advance?”
“I would expect her to become hypotensive given the leak, or from sepsis, and I have phenylephrine prepared already,” I say in response.
“Excellent. What anesthetic should you avoid in someone with a-fib?” he asks, glancing at his watch.
That was one of the first things I looked up when I saw she was in a-fib right before surgery, so I knew this too.
I respond confidently, “I’d avoid ketamine, which we don’t use often anyway, because it can cause tachycardia.”
“You’re the brightest of the bunch, Miley, and I look forward to working with you more,” says Dr. Kumar, this time looking at the wall mounted clock.
That’s pretty high praise from an attending and I blush. He’s always been an attending whom I respect, and I have continuously tried to earn approval from. But now, I’m wondering about his approval in other ways, outside the hospital.
Would he be happy that I’m dating his son? Could I see Dr. Kumar being a part of my personal life, longer-term? Could I see this man as a father-in-law? Could he see me as his daughter-in-law? It’s not something I would ever have considered before. But Rohit and I are becoming more serious, and I hate to admit, even to myself, that I’d love to see our relationship headed that way.
I look over at him, caught in my thoughts, as he glances at his watch again. I’ve never seen him so concerned with the time before, even when a case runs longer than expected due to complications.
“Is everything okay?” I question, hoping I haven’t crossed a line by asking something so personal.
He chuckles softly. “I need to get home before my wife kills me. She wants me to help prepare for Diwali dinner tomorrow night. It’s the only time of year I’ll take a Friday off. Diwali follows a lunar calendar, so every year the day changes, but it never seems to fall on a weekend. My kids are coming, so she’s making all their favorite dishes.”
“Kids?” I say automatically, even though I clearly know who his kids are.
“Well, they’re adults now, but they’ll forever be kids to me,” he says wistfully. “They’re actually twins. Reena just got engaged. Her fiancé, Arjun, will be coming over as well, along with his parents. So my wife, who already goes all-out for Diwali, is now treating this like some sort of royal affair. And then there’s Rohit, my son. I wish he had someone special of his own to bring. You might actually have seen him around, he works in this hospital too.”
“Uhh yeah, I’m familiar with him,” I respond slowly, trying not to guess at what Dr. Kumar may or may not know about our relationship. Dr. Kumar isn’t even sure if I’ve met his son, let alone fucked him. Has Rohit never mentioned me? I know he hasn’t invited me to any family functions, but to not even mention me? Come to think of it, Diwali would have been a great opportunity for me to meet his parents, since it’s such a joyous occasion and Reena and her fiancé are also going. He’s met everyone in my family several times.
Dr. Kumar continues speaking, jarring me from my internal thought spiral. “Rohit’s an ICU nurse, so I’m sure you two have shared patients, although I still think he should have gone to med school. I always wanted him to join my practice,” he laments.
My phone flashes with a text and it’s actually from Rohit.
ROHIT
Meet me in the lobby when you’re done
I can’t wait to see you
I see Rohit standing to the side of the lobby waiting for me. I’m trying to keep my emotions in check but I am fucking livid.
He smiles when he notices me, and then it falters when he sees my face.
“You haven’t told your parents about us?” I bark, not even saying hello.
Rohit has the gall to look sheepish as he rakes his hands through his hair. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean ‘not exactly?’ Your dad asked me during our last case if I even knew you existed!” I raise my voice louder than I should in a hospital lobby.
Rohit is saved from answering when his dad actually walks by.
“Rohit! I was just asking Miley if she knew you. It seems you guys have been acquainted,” Dr. Kumar says with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I’ve seen her around the ICU a few times,” Rohit replies, looking clearly uncomfortable. He won’t meet my eyes. If he was going to clue his father into our relationship, now would be the perfect opportunity, we’re all just standing here staring at each other for fuck's sake. Instead of that, Rohit can’t even admit we are friends, let alone dating.
I shoot daggers at him with my eyes.
“Miley is our brightest and most promising resident. I see an incredible career ahead of her,” Dr. Kumar praises me. At least one thing is going well in this conversation.
“Well, I’m gonna head out before your mother murders me. See you tomorrow Rohit. Please, don’t be late. Also, make sure to dress nicely. Your mother has invited one of her friends to Diwali dinner. They have a daughter who is a very nice girl that we want to introduce you to, since you aren’t making any efforts of your own to settle down. Make a good impression.”
Rohit has the nerve to cringe.
“Miley, I’ll see you Monday.” Dr. Kumar leaves without a backwards glance.
“You haven’t told your parents,” I restate through my teeth.
Rohit sighs. “No.”
“You’re letting your parents set you up with someone,” I say, again not a question.
“Absolutely not. I have told them a thousand times I don’t want them setting me up with anyone,” he responds, shifting from one foot to the other. “But my mom—"
“Maybe if you told her you have a girlfriend, she wouldn’t be setting you up with people!” I interject, voice rising again with my anger.
“Miley…” he starts.
“Don’t Miley me. I am not some secret to be kept. You either want this relationship or you don’t,” I chide.
“You know I do.”
“Do I, though?” At this point, I apparently know nothing. Does he even want this? Have I gotten everything so wrong again? And just when I started to trust him.
“You’re ashamed of me,” I spit out.
“You don’t understand,” he murmurs.
“What is there to understand exactly?” I am seething, my rage boiling over as I clench my fists at my side. I don’t even care if people are watching us at this point. All I want is for Rohit to be honest with me, to not keep me a fucking secret.
He doesn’t respond immediately and I narrow my gaze, willing him to explain himself in a way that will help me make sense of this because right now, all I understand is that he seems to be so ashamed of me, he won’t even admit we are friends.
He reaches to take my hands, but I step out of his reach.
“I’m expected to date someone Indian,” he finally admits.
“Well, that’s something I will never be.” I lift my hands, as if presenting my clearly not Indian self at him. “You need to figure out if that’s a deal breaker for you because I don’t want to be some stopover on your way to a happily ever after.” I jab my finger in his direction and say, “Figure out if you want to be with me, like really be with me.” I drop my hand to my side, ultimately defeated. “Come find me when you do,” I mutter, then turn and leave the hospital, tears streaming down my face.