Mentions of loss of limbs, and generally bloody stuff associated with traffic accidents
Angela sighed and tiredly rubbed her eyes after finishing her cup of coffee, the seventh so far. She had been on shift for 14 hours, and was looking forward to finally sign off in just another hour. One of the few things she truly disliked about working in a hospital, those long shifts. Especially since most of that time was spent with paperwork while being on call, since her promotion to head of Neurosurgery. But it was worth it, she thought with a small smile. She was doing her part to make the world a slightly better place.
She was just about ready to get back to sloughing through the mountains of papers to read and sign off on when she got a page.
'Emergency surgery, Theater 3, Spinal Damage'
'Well, there goes this evening.' she thought with a sigh before she got up, taking a deep breath before she opened the door and started her jog towards the elevators.
"What do we have?" she asked no one in particular as she entered the prep room, going through the routine of disinfecting everything after dressing in her scrubs.
"Female, 32, car accident." came the reply from Dr. Montoya, the on-call trauma surgeon who was just getting finished. "Severe abdominal and cranial bleeding, ruptured spleen and liver, extensive damage to vertebrae T6 through L1, and she'll likely lose a leg. Apparently she pushed a child out of the way of a bus who hit her dead on, and flung her into oncoming traffic. It's not looking good."
Angela winced. It had been a while since they'd gotten such a bad case.
"Is it just the two of us?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, yes. I'll try to stop the abdominal bleeding, patch her liver and spleen back up, while you get the cranium back under control. If she makes past you work on the spine and I'll see if I can save her leg. Maybe need your help with that, too." Montoya answered, all business.
She liked that about him. His laser-focus when a patient was on a table, dispensing of any emotion that could hamper his decision-making. Something she had to constantly force herself to do.
"Oh, and we're low on 0 negative, so we'll have to stop that bleeding fast."
Angela gave a curt nod while a nurse pulled on her overcoat. They had their work cut out for them.
Nine hours later, and they had managed to perform a small miracle. She watched as the patient was wheeled out of the operating theater, stable for the time being, to be put into intensive care. There was no permanent damage to her brain, and Angela was confident she had managed to fix up her spine as well. They hadn't been able to save her leg, though. It had been hanging on by just a few tendons and strands of muscle, and the nerve damage had been to severe to be patched up. But she would live.
"Doctor Ziegler, are you alright?" a nurse asked, concern in his voice.
She looked at him surprised, and only now noticed how she was swaying on her feet, how badly her hands were shaking now that she didn't need them to hold still anymore. She shook her head and managed a tired smile.
"Yes, Robert, thank you. I just need to sit down for a while." she replied.
He didn't buy it.
"Let's get you cleaned up and to the ready room so you can lie down. You're not getting into your car like this."
Angela didn't even bother to pretend putting up a fight. She would be glad if she'd manage to get to a bed in the ready room on her own two feet, let alone home and into her own bed. So she went along with it, and was out cold the moment her head hit the pillow.
For some strange reason, Angela found herself in Fareeha's room again. She had taken to spending her breaks in the woman's room in the ICU, wondering what might have driven her to her sacrifice. Was it a split-second decision, no thought wasted on the potential consequences? Or did those consequences flash through her mind before being dismissed anyway? And when the hell had 'the patient' become 'Fareeha'?!
She was quietly pondering those questions, sitting in her chair by the bed, taking in that dark-skinned face with the peculiar tattoo. The bruises had faded to a faint yellow, barely discernible against her tan hue, and she had been waned off the drugs inducing an artificial coma. Her CT scans had showed nothing out of the ordinary in her brain, so she should be waking up any day now. And for some reason, Angela was almost afraid of that.
'Because you're getting attached to her.' she thought with a hint of bitterness. 'Ethics 101, remember? The professor droned on and on...'
Her train of thought was interrupted when she noticed a minute stirring in Fareeha's hand. She first chalked it up to being dog-tired, again, but then it happened again. Her fingers twitched. She hadn't imagined it!
She got out of her chair and walked to the door, intending to flag down a passing nurse to tell her that the patient seemed to be waking up, but then decided against it. She was a neurosurgeon after all, and more than qualified to assess Fareeha's mental state. The most qualified in the entire hospital, for that matter.
'And it's Miss Amari now, don't forget.' a tiny voice reminded her.
Soon enough chocolate eyes fluttered open with a groan, and she found herself transfixed by the warmth behind those irises.
"Did I die?" Fareeha croaked out through her parched throat, "Because you look like an angel."
Angela couldn't help but chuckle. She had expected a lot of things, but certainly not this.
"Not an angel, no. I'm your doctor." she replied with a warm smile.
And through that brief exchange, one thought drowned out everything else: 'Screw Ethics 101.'
hey guys. Wrote this for the 'Hospital Encounter' prompt on the weekly fanfiction thread over at r/Pharmercy. Many thanks to all the wonderful redditors bringing life to this small slice of our community, especially JungleJayps for maintaining said thread, and thejtguy for being an all around top mate.
I'm also shit with coming up with titles ._.
And hey, I only went over the 1000 word limit by a litte :D
cheers