10. Chase
Chase
“How was on-call last night?” I ask Arjun as we leave afternoon conference.
“Oh man, we had a guy come in with a tiller blade stuck in his ass. Fire and Rescue had to use an acetylene torch to cut the tiller blade off the machine, and I got to pull it out of the patient.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“How the fuck did he get a tiller blade in his ass?”
“My guess is two beers turned into twelve,” Arjun answers with a laugh. “After that, got a couple calls from TICU. Lost that guy we did the portacaval shunt on. That sucked, but we knew going in that his chances weren’t good.”
“Who did the case?” I ask.
“That was the best part,” Arjun says excitedly. “I got to scrub in with Dr. Rosemont.”
Dr. Rosemont is the top cardiothoracic surgeon in the world.
And he doesn’t allow interns in his operating rooms.
“No way. I’m calling bullshit,” I tell him.
Arjun shrugs.
“You don’t have to believe me. Doesn’t make it any less true,” he says as he slaps me on the back. “See you tonight,” he says before turning and walking down the hall.
“What’s tonight?” I ask out loud, but mostly to myself.
“Journal club,” Sarah says, falling in line beside me. “We’re meeting at that new steakhouse on Seventh Avenue, remember?”
I just want to go home and go to bed, but residency isn’t just about patient care.
It’s about being accessible to the staff who need their questions answered, being accessible to family members who need reassurance, learning about the gold standard of care through reading, discussing, and analyzing the trauma surgery journals.
It’s schmoozing drug reps and product reps.
It’s making the best presentations and showing your attendings that you belong here by being fresh and creative without overstepping and thinking you’re God’s gift to the program.
It’s rounding on patients, being on call, and being able to force all other thoughts from your mind as soon as you step into the operating room because the only thing that matters is the patient on the table.
It’s learning to function on two hours of sleep with nothing but coffee and Red Bull in your system.
Patient care is arguably the easiest part of residency.
“Oh, right. I remember. Thanks,” I tell Sarah, fighting a yawn. I absolutely will not show that kind of weakness here.
“Hey, you want to ride together?” Jackson asks.
I hate to admit it, but he’s been slightly better about cleaning up after himself since I blew up at him.
His living habits aren’t miraculously great, but they’re a vast improvement from where they were.
I can’t help but wonder how long they’ll last, though, since I found a wet towel on the bathroom floor again this morning.
“Depends,” I say. “Is there any room for me in your car, or am I going to have to move a bunch of empty fast-food wrappers and dirty clothes in order to find my seat?”
“Damn, Matthews,” Jackson balks like he hasn’t ever given me a reason to suspect those things are real possibilities.
I’m too tired to play nicely. I spent half the night on the phone with Kendra, trying to convince her that I still love her.
Kendra’s always been solid, and I don’t know where the distrust and insecurity were coming from other than the distance wreaking havoc on her as well.
I lost precious sleep because of the argument, and now my patience is non-existent today.
“Sorry,” I bite. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I woke up around two and heard your voice through the bathroom. It didn’t sound good.”
“Yeah. Sorry if I woke you.”
My tone must give away the fact that there’s trouble in paradise, and Sarah capitalizes.
“Is everything okay?”
At this point, I’m so tired that spots are dancing in my vision. There’s no way I can determine if she’s being genuine or just taking advantage of an opportunity, but it doesn’t matter. My filter is gone.
“I have no clue,” I answer honestly.
Her hand lands on my biceps a second later.
“Oh, Chase. I’m so sorry,” she coos.
“Yeah, you sound real sorry, Prescott,” Jackson says, calling Sarah by her last name, the same as he does to me.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sarah fires back as we make our way down the hall.
Needing space from these two—and time to think—I shrug away from my co-residents and duck into the elevator, telling them I’ll see them tonight.
With no destination in mind, I hit the button for the sixth floor.
Marcy’s door is cracked, but I hear the TV. I enter the room to find Helen in Marcy’s bed, holding her sleeping daughter.
She gives me a tired smile that makes my own fatigue pale in comparison. How fucking dare I think my exhaustion is extreme? I don’t know shit.
“Dr. Matthews,” Helen says in a quiet greeting before looking down at the little girl in her arms. “She had a long day. They had to up her chemo, and it really wiped her out,” she explains as I move to the edge of the bed and run a hand over Marcy’s bandana.
“She’s gonna beat this, Helen.”
I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it with all my heart.
Helen’s eyes water as she rubs Marcy’s back.
“I know,” she says in a strangled whisper.
Changing the subject, I ask, “Christmas is next week. Would it be okay if I brought something by for her?”
“It would make her whole day.” A tear falls from Helen’s eye as she continues.
“I don’t have much for her this year. The treatments aren’t getting any cheaper, and I make just enough to make me ineligible for financial assistance from the hospital.
I know Marcy doesn’t expect anything, but she’s eleven, you know?
I want my baby to have the Christmas of her dreams.”
Fucking tear ducts.
I swipe at my eyes and clear my throat before my unjustified fatigue makes me break down in this room and wake this sweet sleeping girl.
Before thinking it through, knowing my call schedule, or checking in with my family, I open my mouth.
“Leave it to me. If you don’t mind sharing Marcy’s Christmas Eve with me, I’ll make sure it’s special.”
“Dr. Matthews, you really don’t—”
“Call me Chase, Helen. And I know I don’t, but nothing would make me happier.”
Helen nods as a nurse knocks, making Helen’s attention swing to the door, her brow furrowed in pain for her daughter.
“Please don’t wake her. She’s only been asleep for thirty minutes, and she was so tired,” Helen pleads.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Evans, doctor’s orders,” the nurse says in a cold tone that makes me bristle as she moves toward Marcy.
I block her path.
“Marcy’s next dose has a window in which it can be given. As long as it’s taken within four hours of her last chemo treatment, it’s effective. It doesn’t have to be given right this second,” I tell the nurse, who’s looking at me like, who the hell do you think you are?
Keeping her narrowed eyes on me, she uses an unnecessarily condescending tone when she says, “With all due respect, you’re a general surgery intern, and this is pediatric oncology,” implying I don’t belong here.
“And with that same respect,” I calmly reply, “the letters on my badge still outrank yours. You’re welcome to call the peds oncology attending and tell him the decision was mine, but my guess is he’ll be more pissed that you’re wasting his time than he will be that a gen surg resident made the call since the medicine will be administered in the appropriate window. ”
Her jaw clenches in frustration because she knows I’m right.
I hate being an asshole, but what I hate even more is when kids, especially this kid, become a to-do item. This nurse is trying to make medication rounds at the same time for everyone so she can put her feet up for a while, not because it’s what’s best for the patient.
Turning to Helen, she says, “Gloria is on night shift. I’ll make sure she knows to swing back by.”
“Thank you,” Helen whispers. Once the nurse is gone, Helen looks at me. “How did you know that about her medication?”
I grimace because technically Marcy isn’t my patient, which technically means I’m committing a felony every time I read her medical chart. I don’t snoop. I just look at her lab values to see how she’s doing.
I rub my hand across the back of my neck.
“I, um, I check in from time to time…on her chart…just to…”
“It’s okay, Chase,” Helen says. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”
Checking my watch, I realize the ordeal with the nurse took time I didn’t have, and now I won’t have time to run home and change before I need to be at the steakhouse for journal club.
“I’ve gotta run, but if they give you any trouble or try to wake her in the next three hours, call me, okay?”
Helen nods, and then I’m racing down the hall.