My Shadowing Shift
Frowning, I carefully leaned forward and settled my elbows onto the tabletop in front of me as I rested my cheek comfortably in my hand, my eyes blinking slowly as I let out a small breath of air that soon turns into a yawn. I'd been dragged back to the cafeteria by Dr. Cox–despite my honest assurances that I'd already had a sandwich for breakfast–and he threw me into a seat claiming instant doom if I moved even an inch before he got back. I'm partially sure he did believe me about my breakfast crusades, but apparently having just a sandwich after my chili bowl lunch yesterday isn't enough to get me ready for today's work.
You see, though, I'm still not sure if I'm happy with the idea of shadowing Dr. Cox today. I mean, I know it's a transition back into the usual routine and it's incredibly important to prove to everybody that I'm capable to be around patients, but, the fact is, I'm an attending. I'm an attending! I have to shadow another attending? We're in the same league in this hospital–despite what Dr. Cox may say–and it doesn't seem fair. Is it? Is it fair?
"Listen up Rosie! I don't care what the hell state-of-mind you've been put through to suddenly make you grow a pair, but, believe it or not, this here right now is not about you. This is about the goddamn patients you'll be treating."
Hell yes, it is fair!
Thinking about it, looking at it from all sides, I am happy Dr. Cox is making me shadow him. I honestly don't think I could've handled this day if Dr. Cox just gave me a chart and shoved me into a room. Maybe this is for the best. I can't handle a dead patient of my conscience (I don't know how Doug does it).
A sharp whistle, sounding above me, causes me to jump in my seat and my body snaps back and straightens. My heart pounds erratically in my chest and it takes me a moment to understand what's going on. A slamming sound resounds through the air and pushes me out of my shocked daze. Looking up, embarrassed, I briefly catch the eyes of Dr. Cox, who's looking at me like I'm the world's biggest ass.
Heh. That's an odd image.
He growls, sending me into a better form of consciousness. Suddenly I'm very aware that I've been staring at Dr. Cox. He glares at me, cutting through my very soul, and I shiver involuntarily underneath the intensity.
"Here," he says, sliding a lidless coffee cup across the table, the brown liquid swirling unsteadily. "Drink up."
I look down. "I'm not really–"
"You look like hell," Dr. Cox snapped, interrupting me. "Drink up."
Immediately, without really thinking, I snatched up the cup and sipped it quickly, the hot liquid washing slowly and easily down my parched throat. Stifling back a groan, I lowered the cup away from my lips and wiped my face with my sleeve. Looking over to Dr. Cox, I saw that he had taken it upon himself to grab his own lunch: a tray of three pancakes, two strips of bacon, and his own coffee. Thankfully, he got me nothing. I don't think I could keep down anything, even after my one sandwich.
"Now," Dr. Cox said, stabbing at his food, "this is how this will go. You will shadow me the whole day. The whole day. Lunch is at whatever time I let you off my leash. Yes, I did say leash. My so-called promise is that we will not be working with hypochondriacs, hangnails, the flu, or any other common disease that can be diagnosed from a mile away. We will go through a normal day, interacting with patients. You do not do anything unless I okay it first. No excuses. Is that clear?"
My frown, if possible, deepened, but I nodded nonetheless–
SLAM.
My head snapped up and I caught Dr. Cox's clenched fist digging hard into the table.
"Sorry," I said. "What…?"
"Lookit here, Newbie, there is no this," he bobbed his head up and down in example. "If you screw this up it'll be the last, the very last, think you will ever do in this here hospital." He slams his hands again when I start to look down. "Not let me ask you again: Is that clear?"
"P-perfectly"
My voice is cracked and wavering, making me feel like more of an asshole than I already am.
Bathing in the thin line of tension floating between us, I looked away from Dr. Cox and searched my eyes around the cafeteria for something else to watch, trying to get my attention on something other than my mentor.
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock
7:45 a.m.
It was about the time when the nightshift staff would leave and the morning staff started. Looking around, I could clearly see the modification from when I had been in here a few moments earlier: Not only had the cafeteria been cleaned–for the moment–but the workers had put out all the chairs and tables and brought out the hotplates filled with various foods and drinks. Now, littering the tables near Dr. Cox and mine's, a variety of scrubbed and white coat doctors sat with their own respective trays. Near the corner of the room I could even see what seemed to be the family of patients admitted in the hospital.
One hand, belonging to a pink-scrubbed nurse, waved to me and I immediately ducked my head. Her eyes shot me the sympathetic look I did not want to see and, now, I could see the look everywhere I turned.
I hated that look.
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock
I feel like timing my day. Maybe I can't wait for it to end. That stupid tick-tock'ing is already getting in my hand.
"Newbie!"
What…? My cheek had somehow traveled back down to the palm of my hand and I was staring once again at Dr. Cox.
"Sorry…erm…" I gulped. "Did you say something?"
"My God, Patricia, you must stop tapping."
Tapping? Oh…
Tip-Tap, Tip-Tap, Tip-Tap
Whoops.
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock
Just like that damned clock.
Drawing back slowly, my fingers curling into my palm as if I was making a fist, I slowly stuffed my hands down under the table and rested them comfortably in my lap. Looking up, flinching under Dr. Cox's gaze, I frowned and looked back down at the tabletop, unable to look into his eyes, which were seethed with unleashed worriment and shame.
Of course, maybe the latter was released.
"Sor–"
"Stop saying you're sorry,"
"Sor…" I trailed off and shook my head, gulping. "Right."
Vvzzz
My phone. Shit. I put it on vibrate.
I took it out of my pocket and looked at the caller id: Elliot Reid. Dang it, I knew she'd do this.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Dr. Cox questioned, sipping his coffee. "Answer the damn thing."
"Right, well," I stood, tossing my coffee cup into the nearest bin, "I'll just…"
"You sure as hell better answer your page."
Taking this as an okay to leave, I nodded once and took off through the double doors of the cafeteria. The phone stopped vibrating, but, knowing Elliot, I knew it would start up again.
Vvzzz
See? I knew it.
Realizing that I probably looked like a lunatic running through the halls, dodging and ignoring sympathetic looks, I skidded to a stop in the stairwell and leaned against the wall. One hand cradled my forehead and the other held my flip phone to my ear.
"Hello?"
"JD?" Elliot's voice broke through, screeching. "JD? Oh, God, JD?!"
I knew she'd be worried, but I didn't really expect her to be this hysterical–and that's saying a whole lot for Elliot.
"JD? Are you there? Answer! Come on, JD!"
Oh. Is that me?
What the hell type of question is that…? Of course it's me!
"Frick! JD?"
Shoot. Too long.
"Sorry," I gulped, praying my voice to stop stammering, "I'm um…right here. What's wrong?"
Elliot heaves a sigh. "JD? Thank God you answered. I've been calling you for a while now. I thought you took off or something, I even phoned Turk. Carla wouldn't answer her phone. I was even about to call Dr. Cox. Good thing I didn't, huh? He would've been so mad…"
My God, she rants like the wind!
"JD? Did you hear me?"
Why do I have to zone out the moment she's actually talking about something I'm supposed to be paying attention to?
"N-no. Sorry Elliot, I've got things on my mind."
"Oh…well, I woke up a few minutes ago and I noticed you were gone."
"It's my shift."
"When did you leave? I was hoping we could have breakfast together first."
I sighed, rubbing my temple. "A few hours ago. My shift starts before yours, Elliot. I'm on Dr. Cox's clock and–"
"What do you mean Dr. Cox?"
"He's making me shadow him today instead of me having to do paperwork."
Elliot paused.
"Hello…?" I frowned.
"Dr. Cox isn't on today. He's not on all week!"
"What're you talking about?" I questioned. "I just saw him a few minutes ago; he made me have coffee with him."
"I'm serious! I asked Jordan last week and she said Dr. Cox was going to take the week off to spend time with her and Jack…"
Oh…my… Why'd she have to tell me this? Now I know I'm not as paranoid as I think I am! He's looking after me and he's following me and he's making sure I don't screw up. Am I really that inept?
Jeezus
"JD, you there?" Elliot's voice screeched again. "Oh… Frick! I shouldn't have said that, huh? I'm so sorry!"
"No…" I gulped down whatever was clogged in my throat. "It's fine. Seriously. Was there something else you wanted?"
Without even seeing it, I could feel Elliot's frown on me. "No. I was just worried I guess. Are we gunna get to talk? You were sleeping last night when I get home."
"I-I'm not sure…" I said, whispering. "Listen, Elliot, I really have to go. I'll see you for your shift."
"But–"
"Bye."
Without waiting for a response, I quickly shut my phone and stuffed it into my pocket, Elliot's lingering worry still looming in the air as I stood as still as stone in the stairwell. I'm thinking I should probably look for Dr. Cox, but he didn't really say anything about that. All he wanted was for me to answer his page. He hasn't paged me, so what do I do? I could go find one of my interns and check on them, but I'm pretty sure the only person on call is Gloria, and I know she's usually with Leonard the security guard this early in the morning and I do not want to see what they're up to. No, maybe I'll just walk around, hopefully avoiding people. Maybe that'll work. Dr. Cox should page me soon anyway.
Nodding my head in silent confirmation with myself, I push myself off the wall and, after massaging the cricks from my back, slowly make my way down the stairs towards my unknown destination. I poke my head through the door exiting the stairwell, my eyes checking left and right for people, and quietly slip through when a crack in traffic shifts.
If I keep my head down people shouldn't notice me like usual. Besides, I'm the one who's usually singing and skipping down the hallways.
Of course, who doesn't notice me even then?
JD: the lanky, tall, daydreaming, handsome doctor
Yup. I'm sure hard to miss…
"Ahhh! Damn it!"
Not again…
A spray of silver charts flash before my eyes and a clattering sound hitting the floor immediately makes me wince involuntarily. Dropping to me knees, I shoot my hands out and attempt to help out whoever I had just bumped into. You know what? I think this is a bad sign. This happened the first day I was back, didn't it? How did that turn out? Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. See, what I need to do is fix my klutziness and then I'll have a good day!
Oh, geez… Am I even listening to myself anymore? Me, John "JD" Dorian, fix my own klutziness?
My klutziness?
I swear I'm getting more like Elliot everyday.
Shoot! What am I doing? I just zoned out on the floor. Abort the mind!
Abort! Abort! Abort!
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I chanted over and over again, not really sure if I was apologizing for zoning out or for bumping into that person.
Shakily, I scrambled along the ground and picked up the majority of the charts.
"Bambi?"
Shoot…what the hell are the odds?
I looked up and gulped.
"Carla?"
She arched a brow quizzically. "What are you doing here so early? You look exhausted."
Shaking my head, moving to gather the charts on the floor, I changed subjects quickly, bluntly, and not-so-tactfully.
"I'm really sorry about this. I wasn't thinking… Or, maybe I was. I-I mean–oh, I've got a lot on my mind. I'm sorry. I should've been looking where I was going. Are you all right? You fell didn't you? I heard you yell out too. Did I hurt you? Geezus, I'm such a klutz."
My voice is high and pitchy, moving at warped speed.
See? Just like Elliot everyday.
"Heh… Now look at me. I'm rambling aren't I? Damn it. I'm sorry–"
"JD, stop."
I kept my head down, but adjusted my view. Her hands were on mine; she could feel my shaking.
Nervousness? Fear? Embarrassment?
Probably all three.
"This was my fault." She chuckled lightly to hide the tension I had created. "I wasn't looking, I wasn't paying attention, and I ran into you."
"Oh…" Talk about more embarrassment. "Are you sure…?"
Carla squeezed my hands reassuringly. "Bambi, relax."
I nod.
Together we gathered up the charts, me talking some of the load, and walked down the halls together.
"So," she began, "what're you doing here so early?"
"What are you?" I questioned, avoiding eye contact. "Don't you start with Elliot?"
"Usually." Carla shrugged, taking the change with stride. "I'm picking up extra shifts for some money. Turk and I are still trying so, just in case, I want to make sure we're going to be set financially." She looked to me. "Didn't Elliot tell you last night? I asked her to."
I shook my head. "I wasn't awake when she got home."
Lies!
"She didn't get home that late, did she?"
"I just went to sleep earlier."
More lies!
Of course Carla would be able to see through it.
She stopped near the door to the lounge and clicked her tongue at me. "Bambi, are you lying to me?"
"What…? No!" I frowned, still avoiding eye contact. "Why?"
Before I could move away, Carla's hand flew out and landed on my forehead.
"Bambi!" she scolded. "You're warm. Have you been eating?"
"Carla…" I ducked underneath the hand and moved away. "I'm fine. Really."
I'm such a liar.
"You do look like you need to sleep."
I shook my head. "I'm fine. Just ready to work."
"Great! Just so happy to hear you ready to get down to the dirty business. And I, honest to God, don't mean that dirty business, Kimberly." A hand comes out of the doctor's lounge and wraps around my scrubs top. Dr. Cox stalks out–I wonder how long he'd been there–with a gigantic smile plastering his face. "Now I'm going to pretend I haven't paged you fifteen times in the last two minutes…"
Paged me? Oh, God… Did I really ignore him like that?
Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!
"Perry," Carla admonishes, "don't scare him like that. I've been here and you haven't been paging him."
Dr. Cox rolled his eyes. "Had to suck away the fun, didn't you?"
"Be nice to Bambi," Carla says.
My heart, calming down from my mini attack, flattens in my chest. At least Carla is sticking up for me. Glad to know that hasn't changed.
"Can you imagine me not scaring Kimberly?"
Carla pauses, thoughtful.
"You have a point…"
Great! Never mind! Thanks a lot Carla!
Dr. Cox pumps his hands in the air in an exaggerated victory dance.
This time Carla rolls her eyes, gathering her charts from my hands, patting me on the shoulder. "Take it easy you two." Before I can even say anything, not that I probably would, she disappears into the lounge and leaves me alone with Dr. Cox, who has abruptly stopped dancing not that Carla is not here.
"Right." He nods. "Where were we?"
Did I know? Was I supposed to answer?
Smack!
Retaliating, I flinched back as Dr. Cox clapped his hands in front of my face.
"No daydreaming here, Newbie."
I bite my lip from saying sorry, but I'm pretty sure if I did apologize he wouldn't necessarily answer because he was already halfway down the hallway, dragging me with him, telling me to use my legs and move my ass. Ducking out from underneath his death grip, I readjusted my scrubs top and obediently fell in step behind him. He immediately slammed a chart into my chest, forcing my hands around it.
"First patient," he said, shortly.
No hypochondriac. No hypochondriac. No hypochondriac.
"Head trauma…"
"Now, Newbie," Dr. Cox said, cutting through my trail of thoughts, "I know you did not just smile at the idea of a hurt patient–"
Did I? Oh, God. I smiled?
Quickly, I frowned.
Dr. Cox growls and shakes his head, snatching the chart back in one swift reflex. "His name is Eric Donahue and he's in need of staples, three to be exact, and you're doing them."
I stop short from the door, Dr. Cox continuing on.
Stepping up to the window, looking through the half-open blinds, I checked out the patient. Inside a young male, probably in his late-twenties or early-thirties, I'm not sure, was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with a half uninterested look on his face. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans and a white shirt underneath a plain button up, which was dotted with crimson. One hand rested in his lap while the other held a piece of gauze to the back of his head. Looking off to the side I found a brown-haired, dark-skinned lady, around the same age as him, standing with her arms folded. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, most likely arguing by the look on her face.
"Newbie!"
I yelped as Dr. Cox once again grabbed me by the neck and I protested as he dragged me into the room.
Eric and the woman snapped their heads in my direction.
"Hiya!" Eric said, grinning toothily.
The woman frowned. "Who's this?"
"This," Dr. Cox said, "is Dr. Dorian and he will be doing Mr. Donahue's staples right now."
"What's Eric need another doctor for?"
"Awww," Eric groaned, "Sharon be nice to the poor guy. He looks rough enough as it is."
I do? I touch my cheek but immediately freeze as Eric laughs.
"Hey, man, I'm just kidding you."
Sharon rolled her eyes.
I flash a grim smile and she replied with a warm grin, her lips curving perfectly and cheeks puffing slightly.
Dr. Cox whistles, nearly causing me to jump–it was my cue. Pulling on my gloves, I stepped up to Eric, asked him to lower his head, and tilted the overhead light slightly so I could take a better look at the laceration. Eric winced as I prodded the area and Sharon's grin turned quickly into a frown.
"Is he going to be all right?" Sharon questioned, showing but an inch of worry.
Eric laughed and knocked on the part of his head I wasn't checking on. "Of course; I've got a hard head. You said so yourself."
Sharon laughed.
It's hard to see the relationship between two people until they're together and sharing a joke, an argument, or anything conversational or emotional. I think that's what's so difficult about letting visitors into the hospital; you're not sure whether they're actually related or even if they're actually friendly to the patient. See, sometimes the patient isn't even awake, so when somebody comes in that can mean anything, and it's not always good.
"…and we're going soon."
Shit. I zoned out again.
Taking the proper instrument in my hand, making sure to keep it out of Eric and Sharon's eye line, I carefully aimed and shot: 3 times.
Eric winced each time and, shortly after the first shot, Sharon immediately took his hand.
After checking the staples, making sure they were in right, I straightened up from my hunched form and tore off my gloves. I nodded to Dr. Cox and stepped away–
"Hey, man..."
I freeze. I look down.
His hand is wrapped firmly around my wrist.
"Did you see anything?"
My voice is shaky. My voice is stammering. I can't get words out. I blink wearily, breathing silently and slowly. His hand doesn't even falter and I don't have the guts to try and wretch myself free from his iron grip. His large brown eyes center on me and, looking up, I can see Sharon staring into me with the same awkward look.
"Is something wrong?" Sharon frowns and arches a brow. "He's not too hurt, is he?"
"N-no…um…you see…um…"
Oh, God… Why is he still touching me?
Eric: "You say "um" a lot, don't you?"
Sharon: "He only said it twice."
Eric: "Twice is a lot."
Suddenly a seemingly powerfully force, which turns out to be Dr. Cox, breaks Eric's hold on my wrist. He moves me back discreetly and slowly, mumbling, "Use your damned words" after getting me moved to a more comfortable distance.
I nod, mostly to myself, and turn back, more confident.
"I've inserted the three staples and they should be able to come out in exactly one week. It may hurt for a while, but you can take the same pharmaceutical pain pills. Don't wash your head for two days and try not to overexert yourself."
Sharon sighs and puts a hand to her chest. "That's it?"
I nod.
"God, man, you looked like you were about to tell me I was going to die or something." Eric laughed nervously. "Good thing. I'd hate to have that kind of news."
"Right," Dr. Cox cut in their small talk. "We'll send somebody in with your discharge papers."
I nodded again, saying nothing, and followed my mentor out the door.
Subconsciously, after leaving the room and stopping near the nurse's station as Dr. Cox scribbled a few things on Eric's chart, I rubbed my wrist, scratching my sensitive skin. I looked down, expecting to see a hand mark, but found my wrist fairly clean, except for the reddish color I was beginning to develop. Dr. Cox handed off the chart to nearest nurse before turning to me.
"Right," he said, nodding.
Dropping my hands against my sides, I nodded too.
First patient: Not that bad, thank goodness.
"Now," Dr. Cox said to me, "I'm sure as hell going to pretend you didn't just freeze up in there, Newbie. Got it?"
Against my better judgment, I started, "Sor–"
"Don't even," he interrupted.
Dr. Cox walked off down the hall and I followed him again.
XXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXX
Over the next three hours Dr. Cox led me from patient room to patient room. There were, obviously, no major cases, just many little ones of kids, teenagers, adults, and the elderly. Never had I seen so many cases of the common cold, lacerations, bumps, bruises, broken ligaments, hangovers, and viruses. It was like being back in medical school all over again. I think it's even more amazing that Dr. Cox never showed how tired he got of the kiddie cases he always, somehow, managed to blindly grab out from the chart holder. Of course, I'm pretty sure Dr. Cox was in cahoots with Laverne and Carla.
I swear they're plotting against me.
Well, at least I was doing better with patients. I still got pretty jumpy whenever somebody brushed up against me or touched me, but I was working on hiding it. A few of the older, wiser patients noticed my discomfort right away and asked me what was wrong, but I just said I was an overexcited kind of person. They didn't believe me and every single time I walked by their rooms I got shot with the sympathetic looks.
I guess there's no way to escape it.
Dr. Cox finally gave me a case to do on my own, though, so I'm thankful to see that he thinks I'm making some progress. I mean, my patient only has the flu but…well, it's better than nothing!
"Here we go." I carefully placed my hand against the side of the man's (Ronald Donnelley) head and stuck the thermometer into his ear. Quickly, a beeping sound started from the white instrument and I extracted it and read the number to myself. "Well, you've got a temperature, but it's nothing serious."
Mr. Donnelley frowned and blew into his handkerchief.
Sitting down in the rolling chair across from him, writing in my chart, I looked up and frowned. "The only thing I can give you for the stomachache and headache are the regular pharmaceutical painkillers." He nodded. "Is there any other symptoms you haven't told me? Possibly another reason for your chest pain?"
"No."
I put my stethoscope up against his back and chest, respectively, and listened.
Nothing.
Sitting back, writing down some more notes, I frowned. "I'd like to monitor your stats for a few hours, see if anything happens."
Mr. Donnelley nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I'll check on you later. Just get some rest for now and I'll have a nurse get you some lunch."
"Thank you, Dr. Dorian. I really appreciate it."
I smiled slightly. I helped somebody and, walking out the door, my head held high, I turned to Dr. Cox, who had been standing there conveniently outside the door, and told him what I had just done.
"Well, Chandra," he said in the same condescending tone he always used, "it seems as if the skills have returned and you are in fact a real doctor who has enough experience to diagnose the common flu and keep a patient here for a longer time than he initially requires."
"I was just trying to help–"
Dr. Cox pointed his finger at me. "Do not get involved."
"I understand that now–"
"Do you?"
I say nothing. Maybe I don't understand.
Maybe he doesn't either.
"Check the clock, Newbie."
I turned.
12:24 p.m.
"Lunchtime, Newbie." He said, not even looking at me. "You've got 10 minutes. Eat something."
I nodded, turned and climbed the stairwell towards the cafeteria's floor.
"JD! Hey, JD!"
Turk. I turned and watched him wave enthusiastically in my direction, running towards me.
"Hey…" I said, shortly.
"Man, I've been looking everywhere for you. Carla told me you were shadowing Dr. Cox but you two have really been patient-hopping today, it's hard to keep up with where you are." Turk wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me into the lunch line behind him. "I'm starving. Aren't you? Thankfully it's Chicken Fried Steak Day."
Taking a tray, I moved through the line with him and, silently, we made it to a table, sitting across from each other.
"Elliot called me," Turk said suddenly, my ears perking up at this. Surely they were talking about me. "She said she couldn't get a hold of you?"
I stabbed at my chicken. "She did… I talked to her this morning, when my shift first started."
"How come you weren't answering your phone before? I called maybe ten times."
"When did you call?"
"I dunno… Maybe two hours ago?"
I took out my phone, confused.
"I accidentally turned it off." Pressing a few buttons, I searched through the call history. "You called me ten times?"
Turk shrugged, chugging his strawberry milk. "Just about."
I shook my head, still poking through my phone. Pressing a few more buttons, I looked through my answering machine and put it to my ear. "Dan left me a message…" I said, mostly to myself, not really thinking of the words coming out of my mouth.
"Really…?" Turk frowned. "Did he say why?"
"Actually," I shut my phone and shoved it back into my pocket, "I called Dan this morning."
Turk's eyes widened and he repeated, "Really?"
"Yeah, I told him everything."
"Damn… Man, how'd he take it?"
"Surprised, by the sound of his voice. I'll bet the only reason he's coming down here is to make sure I'm not lying."
"Probably."
"What…? Probably?" I nearly choked on my chilidog as I coughed out Turk's offhanded answer. "What'd you mean probably? Isn't that a bad thing that he's coming down here for that particular reason?"
"Well…if he's coming down here because he's hoping that you're lying than he's obviously coming down here because he's scared for you. If he's coming down here because of what you said, than that means he's being supportive." Turk shrugged and licked his fingers clean of chili. "You said you called him this morning? There aren't many reasons for him to come down here, out-of-the-blue, because he doesn't care."
I frowned. Once again doubting my brother has brought me nothing but shame and embarrassment.
"Forget that." Turk shook his head and sipped his soda. "Cox got you on patients again? Spill, man."
"Didn't Carla tell you about this?"
"She went home. Her shift ended before lunch, maybe an hour ago right now."
"There isn't much to talk about. I haven't gotten any interesting cases."
"Come on, it's Cox. No interesting cases at all?"
"Zilch. None. Zero." I shrugged. "It's been pretty boring, but it's better than being stuck with paperwork all day."
We ate together the rest of the time engaging in some friendly conversations, with me nodding along to some of what Turk was saying when I zoned out. He was telling me about new techniques he was trying with Carla to help them get pregnant; I honestly didn't want to hear that. That's the stuff you got to the Todd with. But I guess that's–
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"Man… Come on!" Turk complained, startling me more than my pager. "It's barely been ten minutes!"
"Right on the dot," I muttered, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. "Guess I better go."
Turk frowned and made a whipping noise, jerking his hand back and forth.
Instinctively I smiled and Turk, noticing this, stopped and smiled too.
Trust Turk to get me smiling with him.
XXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXX
"Uh-oh, Bambi. What'd you do this time?"
"What?"
Looking up, I followed Carla's outstretched finger down the hall just in time to catch the odd sight of a billowing white coat clad Dr. Cox stomping down the halls, shaking his head and staring at me, hard. Behind me I tried to ignore the chuckles of Carla and Laverne as they whispered back and forth to each other, no doubt gossiping about me and what I must have done to cause Dr. Cox's obvious piss-y mood. I flinched nervously as I waited for Dr. Cox to make it to the nurse's station; it felt like he was taking hours between each step just to annoy me.
"NEWBIE!" he yelled, once he made it. He slammed his hand on the nurse's station, getting a glare from Laverne. "Just where the hell have you been?"
I turned, straightening in front of my mentor. "I just got back from the cafeteria. Lunch, remember?"
Dr. Cox growled. Maybe I was being sarcastic.
"If you'll check your clock it clearly states that exactly 12 minutes has past and I clearly remember giving you 10 minutes," Dr. Cox said. "Now I don't care if you and Gandhi just had to go out to the nearest shoe stop and by those darling black lace panties but I've been able to–"
Carla let out a loud laugh, cutting off Dr. Cox.
"E-excuse me?" he questioned, eyes wide as he turned away from me and stared at Carla.
"…clearly states that 12 minutes has past…" she mocked in her dynamite Dr. Cox voice, rolling her eyes. "Please, Perry! Drop the bad façade."
Another growl elicited from Dr. Cox and, instead of moving back into his usually long rant, he grabbed a chart from Carla's outstretched hand, whistled to me, and stomped back down the hall towards the next patient.
"Careful, Bambi!"
I turned and flashed a grim smile to Carla before taking off after my mentor.
The first patient after lunch was a young 35 year old man who had just gotten into a fight with one of his coworkers on their construction sight. He had the trademark yellow hardhat on and was wearing a sleeveless plaid shirt–no undershirt–and a pair of dark blue jeans that was covered in dirt. At first glance he looked like a normally healthy man.
What was wrong with him? Well, that first glance would cause somebody to do a double take once they saw that the man was unconscious and bleeding all hell of his arm, which was bent in a way in which no ligament should be bent.
"He knows I didn't mean to…" Ryan, one of the man's (Steve) friends said. "It was an accident, was all. Is he going to be all right?"
Dr. Cox bent over, dodging a nurse who was carefully cleaning the wound, and muttered to himself, "Out of the socket…"
"What does that mean?"
I shimmied around Ryan's form and stood near Dr. Cox's hunched form.
"Well?" Ryan questioned, his eyes widening by the second. "What's wrong?"
Clearing his throat, Dr. Cox gestured to me with his eyes.
Oh! That's my patient!
I turned. "He'll be fine. It looks like a simple fracture. Would you care to step outside, sir…?"
"No… No, he's my–" He stepped toward me and I involuntarily took a step back. "What…? What's wrong? Come on, doc, I just want to stay here for a while and apologize to the guy…" He took another step toward me and I took another step back. "Come on, man…"
"CLAM UP!" Dr. Cox said, standing suddenly, causing both of us to jump. "You are not a family member. You are not a doctor. You are not a trained professional. You do not have the certification to be in this room. Please leave or we can have you removed."
Ryan stepped back this time. "There's no need to do that, man. I just wanted to know what was wrong."
He fled from the room and Dr. Cox instantly ordered an intern to go out after him.
"All right," Dr. Cox said, snapping on his gloves, "Newbie we're going to pop this damned thing into place…"
I nodded, pulling on my own gloves and carefully laid across the man's legs, holding him down.
"No, no, no…" he told me. "You're going to be pulling–"
I shook my head. "You know I'm not strong enough to do that. Look how big this guy is."
Dr. Cox frowned, but nodded nonetheless. He gestured for one of the interns to lie across the man's chest near me and carefully got into place near Steve's arm, carefully counting down to himself–
"1…2…3…"
–and pulled.
"Ahhhh!"
It's always scary when a patient–especially a big, muscular guy–wakes up in the middle of getting his joint popped back into place. For this guy, however, it's even worse. I mean, he was unconscious when he was brought in and the last thing he probably remembers is having his arm being pulled out of its socket. Plus, what Dr. Cox is doing, it makes it seem like it's happening all over again.
So Steve wakes up to four people around him (me, Dr. Cox, the intern and the nurse) and starts freaking out. He's screaming his lungs out, fighting back with all his might, and just making all sorts noises that patients really shouldn't be making.
"Shit!"
Dr. Cox stammers back from a punch to the cheek and the nurse squeals as he barks for a sedative. The intern is carelessly thrown from the man's body now that Steve's got his arms free and suddenly I find myself grinding my feet to the ground as I struggle to hold his flailing limbs.
For a second I think I have him down. For a second I think I'm under control. For a second I think I'm the strongest man in the world for staying on my own two feet.
Of course, a second can only last so long…
Immediately I'm lifted up into the air by the man's legs and swished around in the air like some broken rag doll. As I hit my limit and my arms weaken and break their grip, a point in gravity is cut and I'm thrown backwards. My back connects with the hard, white plaster wall behind me and the back of my head bounces uncharacteristically against the hard surface. I gasp in pain as I flop to the floor.
My eyes close to the impending darkness…
I'm done.