Thursday, 14 March
Day has been good before your good friend bring bad news and a stupid request.
You start your day everyday by jog around your apartment block. Your high metabolism doesn't allow you to sit still the entire morning. You wake up at 6 on the dot then you take your shoes, iPod and a couple bucks for coffee. You'll be home at 7.15 a.m. enough for you to prepare yourself for work. You strict with your schedule, blame it on your uptight army daddy.
That is your morning routine.
Today is a little bit different. You run about two rounds then stop by the park. You sit at the lakeside lean at a shades tree. There aren't many people at time like this. Apparently it is not common for normal people to be awake this early, well you give up normal long time ago. You bring your coffee and muffin with you to savor it alone. Soft music play through your ear. Chilly winds gently fondle your face as you close your eyes to enjoy your loneliness. You're fine though, it doesn't bother you, your loneliness you mean. You used to that. Or you pretend it.
As the time pass by, you glance your watch when it showed 7.43 a.m., you sigh, you fall asleep. You never lost in time even in your sleep, never. You gather your trash to put it in the garbage then you make your way home.
The only thing that maintains your sanity is rush. Yes you like silence for once in a while but it kill you when it gets too much. That is why you loved where you work. It gives you the rush that you need. It provides adrenaline to keep you excited to be alive.
"Blunt or sharp trauma is more dangerous? Mr. Flanagan." You point the British young man among the other hand raised.
"Blunt, I guess Dr. Pierce." He answers unsurely. He make some funny face like he wants to throw up. He's a brand new intern, below average if you might add. But as a teacher, important to you to make sure your student don't screw with people lives.
"Why is that?" You deadpan.
"Sharp! I mean sharp trauma is more dangerous because it can penetrate through organ." He says with more confident.
"How many types of trauma that we know? Ms. Pillsbury." When you shout her name she was shock. Clearly she doesn't show any interest at you. She was busy cleaning up her nails the entire lecture you give. You knew she suffer from OCD, at one side it's good consider you have to be sterile to prevent disease on the other it vexatious to make sure you clean all the time. Besides sometimes bacteria is good for your immune system.
"Ughh, it's um…"
"You might want to leave now. Catch up with your friend later." You cut her off. You have no time to reiterate, you only got little time to teach tons of material.
"Mr. Lincoln," you appointed at awfully gel haired guy who sat at the back. He was pretty serious during your lecture. You may act like you careless when you actually paying attention.
"Four doctor. They are blunt, sharp, burn and blast trauma."
"Do you agree with Mr. Flanagan?" You asked.
"No doctor. Blunt trauma is way more dangerous because it can hit skin, muscle, even organ or viscera. It cause closed hemorrhage. Sharp trauma, the tools can be use as tampon."
"What is the most frightening of burn trauma?" You challenge him.
"Inhalation injury doctor."
You proudly clap your hand. When you teach, you don't give all your knowledge to them. You offer hint, you trigger them, you want them to find it on their own first then you will explain what they don't understand. Sometimes if they lucky enough, you will share your experience.
"Now that is what I'm talking about. We're done for now, be here at 3 p.m. sharp. I do not tolerate late. We'll learn some initial emergency assessment for blunt and sharp trauma." You dismiss the class and you make your way to attending lounge. You pour some water to your cup as you took a big gulp. You always thirsty after you talk too much.
You took some medical magazine from bookcase as you make yourself comfy on the couch. You like reading, not much of magazine except if it's med, you hate gossips crap. You don't care what the hell happen with celebrities' lives. They all want one same thing: fame, then hating on press who write about them. You can never understand them. Every once in a while you read novels too, you don't have much time for it but you take a moment cause it's relaxing. You loved action stories, you could visualize you as the hero character even be the bad guy. You'd let yourself get involve by storyline, occasionally you compare with your own life.
You are not into love story. They bore you. You easily can guess how they begin, how they end with all the bubbling of sappy romance making you want to vomit. The point is; they're sucks.
You open the magazine as you see the content that captured your interest. Human genome mapping project definitely caught your eyes. There is a lot to love about med, one of many is the developing technology. It aims by this genome sequence you can predict what kind of disease you'll suffer so you can prevent it. As its said 'project', it wasn't finish yet, they're still work on it. It'd be great if it success, imagine how much lives can be save.
"Ugh, I swear that guy is here every week to get high!"
You lift your eyes towards voice source finding Quinn half naked only on her bra and pants grumbling. She throws her top vomited scrub to dirty laundry. You chuckle knowing exactly whom she was talking about. A certain homeless guy complains nausea and dizziness for these past months but by any chance couldn't find any abnormality on him, he just vomiting alcohol.
"You know what, maybe I should go to the chief to get him forbid come near hospital." The blonde groans in frustration. She take the clean scrubs put it on her quickly she almost falls down.
"What's with the rush Quinn?" You ask.
"It smells awfully bad, Britt. Want to smell it?"
"No thanks. Maybe he did have something in his body. You should run some test." You offer an advice.
"And waste hundreds of dollars for nothing? He's lucky enough I still give him physical examination. He just wanted to get high and sleep on comfortable bed. I want to kick his ass so bad right now!" the girl with hazel eyes nag whilst she make some black coffee. Typical stressed Quinn. She can't have alcohol at hospital so she has caffeine instead. "Want some?" she proffers it to you. You shake your head, you've had enough caffeine for one day.
"Whattcha reading, blondie?" She take a sip as she sit beside you.
"Genome mapping project. You think they're going to get it done?" You ask. As general surgeon plus nerdy at DNA thing, Quinn must has some opinion on it.
"Maybe" She shrugs nonchalantly. "In theory, it is possible. You just have to slice the chain, make sequence, identify what cell can possibly mutate. Problem is it'll cost at least I don't know millions billions bucks?"
"It sounds a lot complicated than you said."
"If I was end up being a pure scientist instead of doctor, I would never get out of my lab. DNA is amazing, they small you think you can beat them but wait until they angry, they coding the bad code and the mutation gene hiding behind the good one nothing could stop them then bam! Congratulation you got yourself a cancer. Why am I describing this to you? You know it yourself." She slaps your arm, Quinn was biochemists superb since high school. You chuckled slightly, she always excited talk about it and you have no heart to stop her.
"Don't you have surgery this afternoon? Why are you chilling out here?" Quinn ask you confused as she get up to get some food. Normally, you'd be with your patient and their family by now, mentally prepare them. Surgery is a scary thing, anything could happen in OR, half survived half give up by shock.
"I cancelled it. He's unstable, again." You answer. "Give me that apple." You point a bucket of fruit in open fridge. Quinn tosses it to you, which you catch skillfully.
"Mr. West?" You nod as you take a bite on your apple. "He wanted to die, let him." Quinn shrugs nonchalantly.
"You're sassy today."
"I stated fact. He had lung cancer, yet constantly smoke in hospital for god's sake!" She throws her hand in the air.
"He's just bored and old and lonely. Smoke is his friend." You state. Not that you agree with him. You just tried to understand his feeling. He's angry all the time, he only calm when he was smoking.
"Whatever. I gotta go, some of us have real work." Quinn teases you. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?" She stop by the door hand in its knob.
"Nothing. Why?"
"Dinner?"
"Sure. Thai?"
"Good for me. Your place." Then she's gone.
XXX
You glance the clock on the wall. Three minutes until 3.p.m., some of intern hadn't come yet. You walk towards door and lock it when the clock clangs. First rule being a surgeon is: on time. Even one second is worthy.
You start by asking question, as usual. In your mind, you picked your potential resident. You don't do favorite you simply evaluate them. Who's downright and who's dallied.
Skills lab is one of the program on internship and residency. As attending it is your job to train them. They fail, you fail. Someone's life is not something you can play with. They could be someone's father, mother, kid, sister, brother, best friend, lover, family. When your patient didn't make it, a lot of people hurt. Well, except if they're live alone.
You divide them into groups. A team is consisting of three people. They got different cases. Some blunt some sharp same steps: inspection, evaluate then treatment. First you give them example, then they do it on their own then you use clock to efficiency time.
Trauma surgeons deal with victims of accident and violence as they arrive at a hospital or clinic. They must act quickly to minimize the risk of death or permanent disability for their patients, always working under pressure. Therefor you wanted your intern to be ready in any moment.
"Flanagan, your patient is dying. Fix it!" You shout at the shaking boy. They aren't used to see blood scatter surrounding them. It was from mannequin still it scares them.
"She's pale, increased respiration rate, left movement on left chest. Where is the problem?" You ask Weston. "Breathing, Dr. Pierce." He answers. "What will you do? Time is ticking. You got four minute before you lose him. Think!"
You pretty much yelling, shouting and snapping at them. You're creating chaos atmosphere. You plan it. When trauma comes, there is never calm or silence. They need to get used to it.
At the end of the day, your interns are drain. They are dead tired. You satisfied enough from their teamwork. The more they practice, the better their performance. If you consider cruel by your colleague, you're okay with that if it's mean you have great soldiers.
XXX
On your way home, you stop by Thai restaurant to buy some take away food. You order Quinn's and your favorite. Quinn's place is one block closer to hospital, but you and her usually hang out at yours. You are off first before her. She has post op to do, might need an hour before she could end her shift.
You take out your keys from your pocket as you open up your apartment door. It was dark, you walk towards the light switch to turn it on. You sigh. This place is so empty. Little furniture furnished it. At time like this you wish you have someone to share. You have everything you could ask for; being certificate trauma surgeon, have place by your own, you don't have to worry about bills. Materially, you're well off. You weren't homeless or jobless you just lonely. Most of the time you okay with that, but being human you are, you need someone to lean on. Yes you have friends, but it is not enough, you need more.
At some point you believe someone has made for you. God wouldn't be so cruel to let you live your life alone, right? Maybe that someone thinks exactly like you are right now. Maybe if you lucky enough you'll find them tomorrow or next week or month or year.
Or never.
Deep down you know it's too good to be true.
You put the food on kitchen counter as you took some guava juice from fridge. There is no wine, beer or whatever alcohol brands in your house. You don't drink alcohol, you hate them. You like to be on control, you need to be in control. You had drunk a couple times when you were younger, the last one was the worse. You had hangover over three days with super angry bowel, it wont let you stop vomiting until you dehydration and was admitted to hospital. You were embarrassed. You never drink again ever since.
Thank God you already shower at hospital earlier. You throw your body getting comfy on the couch. You take TV remote control as you switch one program to another. You hate soap opera, you only watch for news. Lately the information merely about politics heats up in line with the presidential elections to be held a month away. You hate politics. All of that little brat behalf of citizen for their own interests.
On second thought, you hate a lot of things.
Whatever.
Your front door snap open produced Quinn. She storm in yelling about need to pee. You watch the scene dumbfound then you shrugged it off. It's Quinn, nothing to surprise about.
"Where is my food? I'm starving!" She shouts at you from toilet. You wonder how could you be friend with her. She was always noisy as horn whilst you quiet as night.
You get off from couch preparing the food. Quinn joins you not long after she disinfectant herself. She rambles about her surgery. How exited she was when her patient bleeding badly almost shock, she's weird like that. But you knew the feeling. It's the rush, the adrenalin playing through your body. You feel alive when that moment comes. It feels like your breath was worth it.
Half way finishing your food, there is knock on your door. You wonder who it could be. Quinn make no attempt to get it so you go open it yourself. You're surprise when Puck's figure standing on your doorway. It's been along time since he visit, not that he's out of town, he was just busy.
Busy banging any women he meets.
You invite him inside. You miss him so much. You and Quinn used to hanging out with him a lot. He's Quinn's former lover in high school, well they're more like cat and dog than a lover that's why they didn't work out. Third person wasn't the reason they broke up, it simply because they happy being friends, no hard feeling.
You three move to couch chatted animatedly on random things occasionally laugh out loud. You catch up the lost time. He tells you about his new business. It's not entirely new, he opens new club, the third one. Unlike you and Quinn, Puck isn't school material, being a badass cause him missed a lot of time to study. He isn't stupid not that smart either. He's okay.
When you moved out from Lima, Ohio, Quinn and you continued your study in pre med when Puck worked at a bar as waitress. He was screwed by drug for years, you lost contact when he was in jail. Then you and the certain blonde picked him, you support his life until he got back on his feet.
"What's the news, Britt? Anyone special?" He asks casually as he turns down the TV volume.
"Nope." Quinn answers for you. "She's a nun. No dating." She wave her hand nonchalantly. You chuckled. Not that you don't want to date. You just… well you.
"No sex partner?" He goes on.
"Oh, she has sex partner! His name is Mr. West, she had orgasm by the smoke he produce. I've seen her high twice in his room." Quinn sarcastically eye side you. You shake your hand pressing your laughter.
"Come on B! You're too good to be single!"
"Hey! I'm single too!"
Something's never change, Quinn and Puck barking each other.
"Shut up, Barbie!" Puck slaps Quinn's arm playfully after she bringing up Puck's dirty little secret; He slept with his crinkle old lady who own his first work place. "Britt, I have tidings for you. Listen to me until I finish, no cutting me off. Okay?" He says seriously. "No, Quinn you're not allowing to comment." He warns her just when Quinn's about to rise her hand.
"Do I need to worry?" You ask.
"No, now…" He clears his throat. "You know I love you, right? This is none of my business, I'm aware of that but your loneliness kind of making me sad and I had to do something about it, you know since you have no charm as I am and you too… how did I put this um… stiff? That is why, being a good friend I am, well… I kind of set you out on a date- blind date. Don't cut me! I know her, okay, it's not blind blind. She worked for me then she's off and we met again, I just thought she'd be good for you. Plus I never sleep with her. What do you think?"
"No." You reply shortly.
"No? As in no no?" He dumbfounds.
You shake your head trying to calm your nerve. You are tired you don't want any reason to build up your anger. How dare is he cross the line like that? You don't understand yourself for being so defensive about your love life. It's kind of taboo subject for you.
"I'm just trying to help."
"I don't need your help."
"Brit…" He pleads. You shake your head again, furiously.
"Come on…gi-"
"Noah, no." Your voice is stern. They know you well enough to push it more. Even Quinn only sit there and not move a centimeter sensing how tense the situation right now.
"What is it has to be so hard on you?! You act all strong when deep down you know you're hurting yourself. You want to grow old and die alone in this stinking place? Fine, go ahead. You know what, stop being so uptight all the time!" He yells at you. There is frustration in his voice, maybe he really does care about you. But your ego wont let your heart wins. Your pride is too big to give in.
"I think you should leave." You say, no emotion.
"Are you really kicking me out?" He asks unbelievably.
"You heard me, Noah. Now go." You point the door indicate him to bring his ass out. His face shows shock. You don't know what get into you act like this. Usually you're the one who storm out when you fight.
He get off from the couch slowly make his way out.
"Be at Breadstix on 7.p.m. this Saturday. Her name is Sant-"
"I don't care what's her name is. Just go!" You yell.
He looks at you, hurt. Then the door slams shut.
Wednesday, 20 March
"I got paged." You show your pager to the Mercedes Jones, black curly ER nurse. She holds her at you hand as she speaks to whomever on phone. She mumbling fast you couldn't quite catch what she was talking about. Something about car on fire.
"Burn trauma, 1 victims, eight minutes away." She says quickly. You nod your head as you put your scrubs and gloves on.
"Page plastic!" You order as you make your way outside to wait the ambulance.
"Morning, Dr. Pierce." Chang, your resident of the week professionally greets you. She's on her forth year and doesn't indicate even a little interest in trauma, you know she sneaks out to checked on neuro patient occasionally. If it wasn't hospital command to make sure all resident had rotation on each department, you sure as hell Dr. Lore would love some Tina Cohen Chang on his service.
You nod your head once acknowledged her existence. A few moments later the ambulance pulls over.
"Bryan Smith, 34, burns injury on chest abdomen and back, half of left hand and left femoral. Unconscious, HR 128x/ minutes, BP: 120/ 70. RR: 33x/minutes. " Paramedic giving you information as you led them to Trauma Room number 4, you begin inspect him and assess the degree and widespread injuries at the same time.
You order Tina to do bulectomy to examine the grade whilst the nurse to give put IV line on him fast. She informs you that it present red and wet hand, white and wet on femoral and blackish on chest. You notice him gasping and eschar circumferential his chest as his breathing quickly. You do the escharotomy carefully to prevent hinder ventilation.
"I need ETT, right now!" Tina shouts at whomever. You still concentrate on your work. This guy had it bad. You waste time he'll be gone by respiratory failure.
"What do you got?" A tall black haired old man busts in. He's from plastic, Dr. Meyer. You ask for plastic because you need them. This case is their major part. You only do the first aid.
"Grade IIA on hand, IIB femoral, III chest and back, about 54% TBSA. We're intubating now." You answer.
"Book an ER now!" He yells. "I'll handle it from now on." You nod as you step aside to make room. You finish your work here. The case is Meyer's now.
XXX
You wait patiently for elevator goes up. Ding. You walk through nurse station, throwing small smile at them who appreciate it by smile back. You were reading your brand new trauma journal in your office when the chief of surgery calls you to join the meeting with the board. You have no idea what's the important of your presence, you rarely deal with the board unless you ask endorsement for your department programs.
You knock the door slowly come in. Mr. Storkholmes, the chief of surgery gave you cue to sit beside him, you obey. He don't give you any relevant information, he just offers you small talk like how's your day going so far or how's the progress of new intern, which you proudly report they do really well. Even Flanagan actually tried to save his patient.
When you were kid, you dreamt to be a pilot, later that day you decide you're too afraid of height because you stumbled your ass down from roof. You're too active for your own good. Then you considered being a sailor, you back out followed by drown incident you experienced. Then you wanted to join military, which your mother completely opposed, you guess your father traumatized her. At the end of your senior high school you have a few acceptance letter. You haven't decided until your graduation day. You almost choose M.I.T., so close then you heard your father was injured in Afghanistan. His barrack was bombed, from fifteen; thirteen died on the spot, two seriously injured one of them lost his leg. It was your father, he loses his ability, pretty much turn out burden his family, according to him.
That's when you decide you wanted to be trauma surgeon.
Not much doctor want to specialize in trauma, after finished your surgical residency you must take one-two years of training, most of them took place in war to apply.
You were in Iraq for almost two years.
You want to be great, you aware the sacrifice must be done so you take the challenge.
Meeting isn't last more than thirty minutes. There is no significant incriminating that's what makes it fast. Everyone agree instantly, who wouldn't? You feel like you're on ninth clouds. You wondering what dream you dreamt of last night. It's like all your wish com true without you really asking.
"She doesn't have much experience. Besides, I don't think she's stable enough to have big job like this. We could use someone else." Tom Ruthford, one of the board who is also the only one that doesn't agree, trying to speak as hard as he can to intimidate you, half part of being on board, you got to make people bow at you, half from his hate towards you.
"Can we count on you, Dr. Pierce?" The headboard asks easily.
"Without a doubt sir." You answer confidentially. Tom's face turns red. You could tell he's beyond pissed. He glare dangerously at you, most of people would frighten by him. You aren't most people. You triumph smirk spread across your lips.
You're too high to get down.
Monday, 25 March
How's the way to describe that you are happy and bum at the same time? Happy simply cause you start your train program today and participant seemed so freaking extract you had to lengthen the time to satisfied their desire to learn. Bum because you're now freezing walk on roadside in rain when you just done your seven hours of complicated surgery. Bad idea the decision left your car this morning only because you don't feel to drive.
Not much public places are open late night like now except club or bar or some creepy diner. You won't risk your ear for some boisterous music moreover your life to get near drunken people. You keep walking then a coffee shop with the sign "open" comes through your eyesight. Happily, you trot in. In an instant you doubt it was really open. You're hugging yourself awkwardly by the door. The light was still on only chair was already arranged neatly on the table. No one is there. For a second you consider to leave but Mother Nature doesn't let you. The rain gets heavier it's not possible to get home without getting soak. Not that you aren't already did. So you wait. Who knows someone will come and kind enough to let you stay for a while.
God answers your prayer.
"Um, we're closing" A girl appears. Without a second thought you would say she's pretty.
"I'm sorry, may I maybe wait here for a while? It's like storm out there." Your voice a little pleads.
She's contemplates. "Yeah, it's getting bad. You could sit, just pull down one of those." She points at the chair. You nod gratefully as you lower the brown rattan chair. You rub your hands to get some heat. You glance at the counter find the girl earlier isn't there anymore.
Then you heard footsteps approaching.
She presents a cup of tea and genuinely smiles in front of you. She doesn't make one for her. Then she lowers a chair for her too. She tilted her head as she smile softly and nod at you, permit you to take a sip of the hot liquid. So you do. The taste is great. It isn't scalding; it's warm and sweet the vapor warms your nose. It's perfect.
You haven't say anything to her you only offer small smile here and there. You don't mean to be rude, you just didn't know what to say. She doesn't seem bother by it. She looks tired but at the same time you could tell she doesn't mind accompany you.
Honestly, you'll be grateful if you could sleep right now. You have work tomorrow, well technically today and you haven't sleep for the past twenty-six hours.
You rub your neck tiredly.
"Long day?" She asks.
"The longest, maybe." You answer her, unconsciously smiling. Her voice makes you to smile. You don't even feel weird. You should feel weird.
Then silence again. You had trouble talking to stranger unless it's professional. And you pretty sure she isn't physically suffering right now. You're an introvert. You don't have random stuff to discuss with her. You're not Quinn who can come up with anything she saw immediately turn into some interesting conversation.
Maybe she's like you. Maybe she doesn't have anything to say too.
"Where were you? It's late." She asks.
Maybe not.
She doesn't give any hint for you to leave. But you being you, you felt like you bother her for staying.
"I was from work. I'm sorry I'm keeping you here. I just leave now." You stand abruptly, she stopping you right away. She grasps your wrist briefly leaving tingling behind. You wonder what it could be, the tingling. You never felt that before.
"Wait a little longer. It's not safe. I don't mind." She gives you the smile again. The sincere genuinely smile making your heart beat beats a little bit faster. You find your head nod at her.
"Thanks." You mumble.
For some odd reason you don't feel that cold anymore. You feel warmer. It's not possible temperature get any higher even for half degree. Maybe it's because of the tea, yeah it must be.
"Um, don't you want to go home?" You ask. She did say she doesn't mind but you know she's being polite, you want to make sure.
"This is home." She shrugs her shoulder easily.
"You own this place?" You sound a little surprise. You mean she looks young, maybe at her 25 or 26 to have a pretty good shop like this. You pass this coffee shop everyday but you never come here before. No special reason, the one you always buy your coffee is more near to your apartment.
"Oh I wish. I work here. The owner's nice enough to let me bunk in." You could catch the sadness in her voice even she clearly tries to hide them in her light tone.
It breaks your heart actually. It makes you want to comfort her. By hug her, maybe? No, you cannot do that.
You don't push the issue ahead. You don't want to pry on her. You'd love to know more but you don't know each other. You don't want her to freak out by being too forward. She's kind enough by letting you stay the least you could do is respect her privacy.
The rain didn't indicate to stop anytime soon. You're getting uncomfortable by your soaked cloth. You remove your leather jacket leaving a white t-shirt cover up your body.
You see her chair shove as she gets up. You follow her movement then she stop. You lock your eyes at her. She asks your name which you answer bashfully. You feel like a teenager. Why on earth you shy when some random stranger asking your name? People ask your name everyday, you answer them confidently. You tilt your head when you saw her expression change to gloomy at the mention of your name. It was brief you don't even have a chance to asks hers before she excused herself.
It make your stomach drop when somber expression across her face. You feel like crap. What is wrong with your name?
Your message ringtone rings through your jeans. You open your phone as you sigh heavily.
"Here, wear this." You look up to your shoulder to see a hoodie attach to it. She smiles warmly at you. You have to admit you forget how to breathe properly. She doesn't say much but what she did to you was totally leaving you speechless even though you don't talk much either, but still.
She sits again across you. You want to say thanks but it didn't seem sufficient. You find it hard to formulate words. How dare your brain stop working at urgent situation like this? You open your mouth only to close it again. She chuckles at your action, you feel stupid. She must thinks you're foolish ignorant person. You lower your head shamefully, you pretty sure your face is red by now.
Your phone ring again. This time someone is calling. You throw apologize look to her as you answer your phone. Actually you're not really listening, you only catch the last part where the caller say you need to be at hospital quick due some stupid accident road racing. Teenager and their big stupid ego.
You sigh subtly. "I have to go." You don't want to go. You want to stay here in warm and safe place with her. She nods her head understandingly. You get up from your chair as she does what you did. You're about to take her hoodie off when she stops you.
"This one is wet," she points your jacket "Use mine." You hardly obey to anybody. But the way she said it, it difficult to not sense the care from it. It is hard for you not to do as she says.
You find you nod your head surrender to her wish. You take your jacket from the table again she stops you. "Let me dry it." She offers.
You shake your head swiftly. "You don't have to." You say.
"I insist."
Like you can decline her before.
You put your hand on the doorknob as you turn at her for one more last look.
"Thank you." You say softly but loud enough for her to hear. She pulls up her lips into toothily smile at you. It could do more than thousand words to you. Your heart flatter, you beat the urge to stay, to call hospital back making any excuse to abandon your patient.
"What is your name?" You ask. You need to know, you already waste much time to find out the most essential part of a person.
"Santana. My name is Santana Lopez."
Well, it suits her.