20. Cameron
Cameron
I’ve got exactly three minutes to inhale this cup of coffee before my next consult, but with the way today has been going, I’ll be lucky if I get two sips in.
The oncology wing is already buzzing—nurses moving in and out of patient rooms, a couple of residents hunched over their charts near the nurses’ station, and somewhere down the hall, the sound of the coffee machine struggling to produce the life-saving substance we all depend on.
I lean against the counter, scrolling through my patient notes, when Wes strolls up beside me, looking way too awake for someone who was on call last night.
“You look like crap, Hayes,” he says, stealing my coffee right out of my hand before I can take my first sip.
I don’t even look up. “And yet, I still look better than you.”
Wes hums, pretending to consider that. “Debatable. Though I did sleep with a weighted blanket last night, so I’m feeling pretty rejuvenated.”
I glance at him. “You were on call last night.”
“Exactly. Which is why I needed the comfort. Medicine is stressful, Cam. Sometimes, a man just needs to be cuddled, and if it can’t be with a woman, the next best thing is a heavy blanket to be wrapped in.”
I shake my head, grabbing my coffee back from him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously well-rested.” He nods toward the hall. “So what’s on your plate today, Dr. Dreamboat?”
I roll my eyes, flipping through my notes. “Follow-ups, a consult for a new patient, and rounding on a couple of post-chemo cases. The usual.”
Wes lets out a low whistle. “Busy day. Have you eaten?”
“Have I—?” I scrunch my brows. “No, Mom, I have not eaten.”
“Figures.” He sighs, shaking his head. “You get too caught up playing superhero that you forget basic human needs.”
“I eat.”
“Coffee is not a food group,” he argues.
I wave him off. “Details.”
Wes just looks at me, unimpressed, before clapping me on the shoulder. “Who’s first up today?”
I glance at my schedule. “I promised Maya I’d play a round of Uno with her if she was feeling up to it.”
Wes grins. “How many times has that girl smoked you so far?”
“Too many to count. Kid’s a card shark.”
“Tragic. You should probably just retire now.”
“Yeah, well, my pride’s already taken too many hits. No coming back from it. Might as well make her happy.”
Wes smirks, but before he can fire back, my pager buzzes.
New admit.
By the time I reach my favorite patient’s room, I switch back into doctor mode.
“Morning, Maya,” I say, stepping inside. “How’s my favorite seven-year-old doing today?”
Maya, who’s perched in her hospital bed with a tablet in her lap, pushes up her glasses up on her nose. “Dr. Hayes, you’re late.”
I glance at my watch. “By like two minutes.”
She gives me a look. “That’s still late.”
Her mom chuckles from the chair beside the bed. “She’s been waiting for you all morning.”
I smirk, pulling up her chart. “What can I say? I’m a very popular guy.”
Maya grins. “Well, duh. I mean, I have good taste in who my favorite doctors are.”
“Having my ego boosted by little humans is one of my favorite parts of this job.” I scan over her latest labs, nodding in approval.
“Alright, superstar, looks like your counts are holding steady, and your ANC is trending up. That means if everything keeps going well, we might be able to start talking about going home soon.”
Maya gasps. “Really?”
Her mom lets out a relieved breath and squeezes her daughter’s hand. “That’s amazing.”
I nod. “We’ll keep monitoring, but I’d say we’re on the right track.” I close her chart and set it aside. “I believe I owe you a game of Uno.”
Maya’s face lights up. “You’re so going to lose.”
“Hey, have a little faith in me.”
She grins. “Sorry, but you really suck. It’s too easy.”
After rounds, I met with the family of my new patient, a four-year-old boy named Daniel, who was just diagnosed with Wilms tumor.
His parents are scared. I can see it in the way his mother clutches his tiny hand, in the way his father’s jaw is clenched so tightly I swear it might crack.
I sit down across from them, keeping my voice steady, my presence calm.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” I tell them. “But I want you to know—we have a plan. And we’re going to take this one step at a time.”
Daniel’s mom wipes at her eyes. “But he’s so young.”
“I know,” I say softly. “And it’s not fair. But kids are incredibly resilient, and Wilms tumor has very good odds of being treatable. We caught this early, and that gives us a really good shot at beating it.”
Daniel’s dad clears his throat, his voice rough. “So what happens next?”
“Next,” I say, flipping open my notes, “we talk about treatment.”
By the time I make it back to the lounge, I barely get a second to sit down before Wes strolls in, smirking.
I drop into a chair, rubbing a hand down my face.
Wes flops into the seat across from me. “How’s your day been, Dr. McMiracle?”
I let out a long exhale. “Just…a day.”
He nods like he gets it—because he does.
“This job, man,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “The highs are high, but the lows? They gut you.”
I nod.
I pull my phone out of my pocket for what feels like the first time today. It’s been busier than normal today, and I haven’t had a moment to check in with Gabrielle.
When I unlock my phone, there’s already a text waiting for me.
My Future Wife: Just saw a guy trip over absolutely nothing and take down an entire display of canned soup with him in the grocery store. Immediately thought of you. Hope your day is less tragic.
I can’t help but laugh out loud.
Cam: Did it remind you of how hard I fell for you?
My Future Wife: Smooth.
My Future Wife: Fell? Past tense or present?
Cam: Definitely present, ongoing, possibly terminal.
My Future Wife: Damn. Should I start planning the funeral? Or just let you suffer for a while?
Cam: Depends. Will there be a eulogy where you confess your love?
My Future Wife: I’d rather let you haunt me.
Cam: Careful what you wish for, trouble. I might just show up tonight to prove to you that I’m still very much alive.
My Future Wife: Oh? And what exactly would this “very much alive” version of you be doing if he shows up?
Cam: Seeing you. Maybe letting you nurse me back to health after this devastating fall I took for you.
My Future Wife: So cheesy and dramatic.
Cam: You never struck me as being into boring men, so you’re welcome. Are you free later?