Doctors
There he was. I had been called by this boy not even 2 days ago, and I would most likely be performing surgery within 2 hours. A surgery that had a high mortality rate. He seemed like a good kid, from what I had heard. My daughter absolutely adored him, and some Hannah montanna girl. I had even taked her to one of the concerts the other week. He was quite artistic… and now I held his life in my hands. The next few hours were going to be very long…
I walked him to his room and he listened with full attention as I explained how everything was going to happed, signing the forms, and I left him to get changed, leaving him to the tender mercies of my interns…
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It was almost 2 hours on the dot later and I was staring at his scans. I didn't know if it was possible. The mortality rate had definitely just increased. He had cancer cells throughout his chest and lungs, probably caused by smoke inhilation. I checked his file and noticed he had been a volunteer fireman back in England, and I frowned at the stupidity of having such a young fireman. Quit after pulling his family out of a fire. Only living relatives and aunt and cousin in LA. I looked at the scans again, feeling sorry for the young boy. He also had cancerous cells in his brain. Now that I had experience with… I called another doctor up and showed him the scans, and he frowned, asking me when surgery was. He was surprised when I said as soon as possible. He told me he would do his best, but it was very likely the boy wouldn't pull through. Finally ready I had the interns prep him for surgery, getting a sense of urgency when they said he seemed very distant. I read over his file again, but didn't see anything of note medical wise. General anasthesia should work… and god help us.
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He was wheeled into the OR on a gurney just staring blankly at the ceiling. "David? We have found and located the cells, and will be doing our best to remove them. There is a possibility we wont get them all, and the mortality rate is increased, but I am very confident in our abilities." he nodded. I looked to our anasthesiologist and nodded, and he injected the anasthesia. "Count back from 10 for me."
"10..9...8..." he was asleep.
"Alright everybody. Good luck, and lets have a good surgery." I said to everyone in the room, nodding to a nurse who put on some jazz music. It always helped me relax. First incision…
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I cant believe it! Not only did he survive the surgery, but all of the cancerous cells were removed! All he needed was time and he would be fully recovered and have a long life. I had a nurse watching over him with instructions to inform me as soon as he was awake. I wanted to tell him the good news in person.
I was waiting for hours. It had been 5 already. He should be awake by now. There was brain function, as the nurse said he was having nightmares, but he couldn't seem to wake up. After another 3 hours the nurse said he had calmed down, but seemed unresponsive to external stimuli. I immediately called for a MRI and waited anxiously. I didn't want to even think about what it could be…
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Another hour and I had the results. They weren't good. I was sitting by his bedside, brushing my hair back and staring at him and his scan. I was correct in that the cancer was all gone, he was healing nicely, but his mind… He wasn't brain dead. There was activity. However, the activity indicated that the poor boy had fallen into a coma, and there was no way to tell when he would come out of it. The usual indicators just weren't there… I fought the urge to contact his family. Physically he was fine, and he told me not to contact his family for 7 days no matter what. A promise I had foolishly agreed to. And I always kept my promises.