Beautifully Awake(6)
I needed out of my own head, and I didn’t want my inner debate sending Guy any wrong signals. “Hey, thanks a lot. I really appreciate your help. You rock.” I genuinely meant it.
“Anytime. Gotta run, supposedly Super-Chief doesn’t need sleep and changed the damn OR schedule to start even earlier. I’ve got a laminectomy in five.” He radiated annoyance. “So as much as I enjoy your awesome company, I’d rather skip the Chief’s how-long’s-my-dick show if I can. I’ll see ya later, but make sure you page me if you need help changing Petit’s diaper. Show him who’s boss.”
He squeezed my arm again and sauntered toward the stairs. Surgeons and stairs. I didn’t get it.
“Go, run, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll dazzle him with your lami-whatever skills, and hopefully there will be no need for any showing of man parts.” I winked and smiled. “And thanks again for covering for me this morning. I’m just glad he didn’t notice.”
With one hand opening the steel door, he glanced back looking incredibly handsome and dead serious.
“I never said that, doll. He totally noticed.”
After Guy left to lami-something someone, I tracked down Sam Petit. I was pleasantly surprised there were no signs of an impending meltdown. He appeared to have his shit together in matching scrubs. Not bad for a first day intern. It also psyched me out to learn we were getting a physician assistant on our service. Supposedly Colton was a control freak in the operating room and insisted on having his own PA to scrub with. I guessed residents didn’t cut it. He must have had some clout, because the surgery department assigned Jackson, who aside from being a great guy, was one of the more senior PAs and known to be kickass in the operating room. So far the team looked promising. Three down, one to go.
The morning was so busy, I barely had time to stress about missing rounds. Even the rumble subsided. And since Colton’s OR schedule was jam packed with the most treacherous sounding procedures, he wasn’t going to care that his case manager slept through a page. Craniotomies, ventriculostomies, transsphenoidal resections, chiari decompressions—total effing Sanskrit. NASA sounded remedial in comparison.
The hospital grapevine, aka Leanne, buzzed that Dr. Colton was one of the go-to-guys in his field. Patients were already scheduled months in advance for consults. And not just local patients, people were flying in from all over. The hospital powers-that-be must have been thrilled; after all, it was always about the bottom line for them. There was a good chance I wouldn’t deal with Dr. Pompous at all this rotation.
And just as Sierra predicted, I quickly fell right into my routine. I met with all my patients trying to tease out any social issues, because old habits died hard, and then spent hours on the phone arguing with soul-sucking insurance companies. This part of the job completely and utterly sucked, but someone needed to fight for these people, even if it was always a losing battle. It always boiled down to the same thing. Money. Saving the hospital money. Saving the insurance company money. Who cared if these patients were sick and vulnerable? Figure it out, that was my job and it was mind-blowingly frustrating most days. But I had enough experience with “the system” to realize getting all bent out of shape wasn’t the answer. One battle at a time. Take a small victory when you can.
Chime. Sierra texted all day, every day without fail. About everything and nothing.
Babe’s hungry today
Might gross myself out and
order the enchilada XL!
She was text obsessed even before she quit her high-powered job as an ad exec last spring to live the life of a main-line brat. Funny that she called herself that because, for one, she lived in the heart of Center City, not the main line, and two, she clocked close to forty-five hours a week fundraising for various children’s charities. Sierra was no stranger to working hard, she just failed to understand that not everyone could pause what they were doing to text streams of consciousness. She had to wait.
I ignored my non-stop chiming cell and finished my torturous phone calls before grabbing a quick lunch with my friend Kate from the recovery room. I even squeezed in an afternoon pit stop to drop off the scones with my security buddies, a weekly tradition we shared. It was five o’clock before I knew it, and I was back at the fifth floor nurses’ station—this time waiting for evening rounds. It was a little like Groundhog’s Day.
Whatever, in less than an hour there’d be a well-deserved kickass margarita in my hand. Mmm. First day down, and the rumble was quiescent. Until next month at least.
So far, only the new intern Sam waited, and Leanne mercilessly teased the poor guy. Jackson already left for the day, because PAs rarely stayed to round. Not sure why that was kosher, but it was pretty well established and no one questioned it.