Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it. It's a lot of fun to write with these great characters.
Chapter three: Can you Say Choledochojejunostomy?
Romano found time between afternoon surgeries to check in on young Rob in Recovery. The operation on his leg had really knocked the poor kid out. It was the first time he'd seen him awake since last night. Shirley was hovering around, changing the IV drip, but he glanced up at the monitors automatically. Nothing bad there. This was going to be a lucky kid.
'Hello, Dr Romano. He's been asking for Rob. We worked it out in the end.' Shirley gave him a mischievous smile. 'I don't suppose we get the privilege?'
'You suppose correctly.' He looked down at the patient as Shirley moved away. 'So. How's the leg? Going to stay on?'
'I broke it. The other doctor said I'm going to have this on,' he gestured at the cast, 'for ages. Like, weeks. It sucks. I can't play football. Did you ever break your leg?'
Romano considered sharing stories of various broken bones over the years. His natural reserve forbade it. He said instead, not unkindly: 'Nope. Try not to break the other one.'
A man hurried up to the bedside, a baby asleep in his arms. Harassed look; almost certainly the kid's dad.
'Is everything alright, doctor? I just went up to check on Sally – my wife – that, is…,' he trailed off as he read Romano's name tag. 'Dr Romano? You were the man who saved my family?' He juggled the baby and held out his hand. 'I can't tell you how grateful I am.'
Romano shook it with a smile. It was a pleasure to get some appreciation after the last twenty-four hours. 'It's what I like to do.'
'I can't thank you enough. Hey, I wish there was something I could do.'
'Well, I'd say you could name your firstborn son after me, but I see you did that already,' Romano quipped.
Luckily, the man shared his sense of humour. He threw back his head and laughed. There was a ragged edge to the laugh which suggested sleeplessness and stress were catching up with him. He shook his head. 'Hey, yeah. Did that in advance. But Rob can name his son after you, right Rob?' He looked down at the boy, fondly. His phone went off and he yanked it out of his pocket and hung up before it disturbed the patients; glanced down at the number. 'It's my dad,' he explained. 'He's pretty sick at home. I should get this…' He looked at the sleeping baby. 'Um. Dr Romano? Could you possibly take my daughter for two minutes while I call him? I'll be just outside.'
Always a crisis around here, Romano thought cynically. But he did have half an hour between surgeries, and he kind of liked little kids. He assented.
The dad hurried out of the door and Romano looked down at the kid who was just beginning to stir. Having a baby asleep in his arms reminded him of his nieces and nephew when they were little. He thought, with a stab of guilt, that he should probably give them a call. How long had it been since they'd last spoken? Work was always in the way.
Anspaugh made the rounds and did a double take at the sight of the baby in Romano's arms. 'And who's this?'
'Y'know, I have no idea,' Romano deadpanned. He let that hang in the air for a few seconds to see if he could get a rise. Nothing doing. 'Rob, what's your sister's name?'
'Evie,' the boy told them.
'Evie? Short for Evette by any chance? That's my little girl's name.' Anspaugh leaned over Romano's shoulder to smile down at the little girl who was just waking up. 'Not nearly as little as this one, though.'
Romano pulled a face at the baby who smiled back up at him. He could see Shirley smirking at the sight of the two surgeons making friends with the baby. He threw her a sarcastic look, daring her to comment.
'Oh, I saw you shifted your choledochojejunostomy up to tomorrow morning, Robert. Why did you move that one?'
It lets me make journalists try and say choledochojejunostomy, he almost answered. Instead, he said: 'I wanted Peter to assist on it. Gives him time before the Swanson M&M.'
'Oh, the M&M.' Anspaugh sighed. 'I'd forgotten about that. A sad case. Yes, by all means, do that first.'
The next day, Romano timed his choledochojejunostomy with care. At eleven when he was due to meet the journalist, they were nearing the end of the operation. By quarter past eleven, they were wheeling the patient out right where the journalist should be waiting…. good timing.There she was with an expectant look and a notebook. He ran a quick eye over her. Not bad looking; couldn't be more than twenty-five, nice curves. He broke away to greet her, signalling Benton to come with him and indicating to the nurses to keep going.
'You must be from the Trib.' He held out his hand with a charming smile. 'Robert Romano.'
'Emily Miller.' She shook his hand. 'Thanks for meeting me Dr Romano.'
'My pleasure. I'm sorry the operation overran. A choledochojejunostomy. Always an enjoyable procedure.' He reached for his lab coat and watched, bright eyed, as she stumbled over the word.
'A cho…choleo….'
'Choledochojejunostomy,' he repeated with apparent helpfulness. 'Would you like me to write it down for you?'
She passed him her notebook with gratitude. He flipped through for a clean page, taking the chance to scan her pre-interview notes and wrote it out with a flourish. Peter was still waiting patiently behind him.
'Let me introduce you to Dr Benton.' He waved Peter over. 'Dr Benton is one of our residents and operated with me this morning.' Romano knew her type. The fresh out of college journalist who thought they were so sharp-eyed and loved to ask questions about diversity. Having Peter there made the hospital look good. He liked to think that media attention would be good for Peter, too. 'Dr Benton, would you get our patient set up in Recovery?' He handed the notebook back. 'Miss Miller, would you care for a coffee in the canteen? It should be quiet enough at the moment.'
'That sounds lovely,' she said. She clutched at her notebook, looking a little overwhelmed by the busy OR.
'Come this way.'
In the meantime, Elizabeth was realizing the penalties of being kicked off Romano's team. Anspaugh had kept her under his eye since yesterday morning. This morning's surgeries with him were an ex-lap followed by a kidney biopsy. The theater was so much quieter than it would have been with Romano leading the show. Anspaugh barely spoke expect to direct her where to clamp and suction. An intern could have done that. She kept her head down and concentrated on her work, but there was no challenge in it. She knew that Romano had a choledochojejunostomy scheduled and had brought in Peter instead. Lucky Peter, getting to do that.
She was one of the last ones into Peter's M&M that afternoon as she hastily completed her notes. Romano was obviously running late, too. As she stood in the doorway, scanning the room for an empty seat, he materialised next to her. She tried not to look over at him. Dr Kayson waved him over to a seat held for him in the front row. Typical. The front row was such a status symbol. She spotted a space in the middle, next to Dale Edson. Oh, great. An hour spent sitting next to Edson who wore too much axe body spray and was bound to smirk at her. She knew that rumours were circulating about her already. She slunk into the seat and wished she were anywhere else.
It looked as if Peter wished himself anywhere else as well. She could see him struggling against the weight of the system as he presented the case. So many of the attendings remembered Dr Swanson before his retirement. Dr Morganstern had failed to control Dr Swanson's hemorrhage by midline incision and Peter had been forced to take over and crack the chest in an attempt to cross-clamp the aorta in time. The way it was presented was damming.
'In the heat of the moment,' Dr Morganstern explained, 'Dr Benton became agitated.'
'I pushed him aside,' Peter admitted.
Elizabeth heard a quiet intake of breath from the residents around her.
Anspaugh apparently had difficulty believing it. 'You pushed Dr Morgenstern out of the way and took over the surgery yourself, Dr Benton?'
Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. She could hardly bear to look at Peter, standing there under attack. And here was the insufferable Dr Kayson, describing Peter's decision as battery on a superior. The patient had been bleeding to death. It was a bloody stupid hierarchy, she thought, that made the attending's decisions sacrosanct. Peter had years of experience and excellent instincts. Why shouldn't he move the older man out of the way when a life was at stake? Peter might have been able to save that life. She silently condemned any system which put hierarchy over results.
The M&M broke down into disagreement between Peter and Morganstern. The midline incision was adequate. It could have been controlled with more suction. No, cross-clamping was the only alternative. Dr Kayson and Dr Weaver pushed for a resident review and Dr Anspaugh granted it. That meant Peter's fate was going to be in the hands of the senior doctors. Bloody hell. She glanced out of the window. It was raining. A miserable end to a miserable day.
That evening, Elizabeth stepped out of the ER into the pouring rain and hurried for the El. She was going to be soaked to the skin by the time she got there. She spotted Peter ahead, just parting from another doctor, head down against the rain.
'Peter!' she caught up with him, dodging the puddles, pulling her beret tight over her head. 'Was that Dr Morganstern? I'm so sorry about the M&M. Would you like to do something together, tonight? Perhaps come over to mine? I think we both need to forget the last couple of days for a bit.'
Peter turned to face her. The rain washed down over them. 'You know what, Elizabeth? Morganstern just told me it wasn't my fault. There was a tape of the operation. He wanted to reinstate me straight away. And thanks to you and your habit of ignoring attendings, apparently Dr Anspaugh kept my month suspension. So that's a month without pay, thanks very much. I don't feel like doing anything tonight.' He turned and stalked off, leaving her standing alone in the rain.
When Elizabeth reached home, she was a sorry sight. Her hair dripped down in rat's tails and her clothes were unrecognizable. When the phone rang, the last thing she wanted to do was answer it. It wouldn't go away. She only picked it up to make the wretched noise stop.
'Hello.' Her least friendly tone.
'Elizabeth, darling. Is everything alright?' It was her father. She could have clung to him through the phone. 'Darling, I wanted to call to say I'm planning a trip to see you.'
The following morning, Elizabeth didn't want to go into work. Quite aside from the misery of feeling Anspaugh's disapproval, the rift with Peter left her leaden with guilt. If she hadn't stirred things up by admitting the hemo-aid study to Anspaugh, both she and Peter would be at work in their usual routine. They could look forward to lunches together, snatched moments between patients, evenings out on the town and a romance which was developing in exciting ways. Now, Peter wouldn't be around for a whole month of the precious time remaining together. She heard the ER staff spreading the news as she trudged through and up into the fourth-floor women's locker room.
Opening the door, she heard a wave of giggles. She stuck her head around the corner. The OR nurses were huddled together on the bench with a newspaper.
'Good morning, Dr Corday,' Kit called cheerfully. 'Have you seen this?' She waved the newspaper and they all laughed again.
Despite herself, Elizabeth was intrigued.
'What is it?' She sat down with them and looked over Jacy's shoulder as Kit spread open the paper again.
'It's Dr Romano's interview from yesterday,' Kit told her gleefully. 'We're going to put it up in the break room after this.'
Elizabeth debated whether she wanted to hear more. Anything to do with Romano was acutely painful at the moment. On the other hand, laughing together over an interview would be a welcome break from the last few unhappy days. Besides, she couldn't help feeling curious. She stayed put on the bench.
'Listen to this.' Kit read out from the article. '"A short, muscular man with a ready smile and air of unstoppable energy." What? Ready smile? Who's she kidding?' She read on. '"In scrubs, sneakers and a colorful bandana, he looks about twenty."'
The nurses shrieked with laughter. 'He's going to love that,' Jacy said between gasps. 'He is one of those guys who have to grow a beard to look old, though,' she added thoughtfully. 'He did that once before…was it before he went to Rome?' She thought about it for a moment. 'So ginger,' she added. 'Wish someone would pay me to go and work in Italy for a year.' She leaned back over Kit. 'Did she get him to say what he was doing last night?' They scanned the article together.
'Emergency services did their best…excellent response from hospital staff, especially the OR…couldn't give details on patients for confidentiality…yadda, yadda, yadda,' Kit summed up. 'The usual stuff.'
'Boring,' the others chorused.
'She asks here if she went into medicine to help people,' Kit said. She covered the paper with a hand. 'Guess what he said.'
'Not a chance,' Jacy answered promptly.
'You win. Helping people. What was she thinking?' She shook her head and read it out for them. '"I interview more medical students than I can remember every year and they all say they want to help people. I've been in this job for twenty years and I can tell you that the people who go in to help drop out again. They can't handle all the –" he pauses, searching for the right word "– the pressures of the job. Sure, I do this to save lives. But I chose the job because I enjoy it." He gestures with animation. "Surgery is always developing. New treatments, new inventions. And it still comes down to perfect knowledge and precise control. I can't think of a more satisfying career."'
There was a moment of silence while they contemplated that. Elizabeth understood what he meant. For a moment, she felt as if were listening to the Romano she knew back in London.
'Oh, she did get him on the name Rocket,' Kit said brightly. 'She read aloud: "I ask him about his mysterious nickname, Rocket, and he explains that a long-standing interest in new technology turned to pioneering cutting-edge robotics in surgery."'
'Oh, that's not true,' Elizabeth corrected. They all turned to look at her and she blushed slightly. 'Dr Anspaugh told me that there's a more interesting story behind it.'
Shirley raised an eyebrow. 'Well. I think someone's going to have to find out that story.' She smiled. What else is there?'
Kit dived back in. 'Ooh, he was born in Chicago. I didn't know that.'
'Here?'
'No, across the city. Not giving a lot away, is he? Born here, lived here a few years, family moved to Philadelphia. Still a Cubs fan, blah, blah, blah….'
They considered it. 'Yeah, Philadelphia. I can kind of hear the accent.'
'Did she pin him down on family?' Shirley asked.
Kit scanned down the article. 'Family…family…oh my god, is he crazy?'
'What? Where?' They all looked down at the page.
Kit pointed to the paragraph. 'She asked about his hobbies, and he does open water swimming and the polar bear club.' She whistled. 'That is crazy.'
'What is it? Elizabeth asked blankly. In their year working together in London, Romano had never mentioned anything like that.
'It's a big thing here,' Shirley explained. 'It's people who jump into Lake Michigan in winter for charity. They have to go in through the ice.'
'Yeah, I have a couple of friends who do it,' Jacy added. 'It's insane. They love it. Most of them don't even wear wetsuits or anything. Just, like speedos.'
There was a moment's silence as they all contemplated the picture, avoiding each other's eyes. Kit and Jacy looked positively wicked with delight.
'Wow,' Jacy said in the end.
Dr Hicks rounded the corner with a damp towel in her hand. She looked faintly surprised to see the nurses and Elizabeth reading the paper together.
'I thought I heard voices.' She tossed the towel into the laundry basket. 'Don't forget the time, ladies. It's nearly eight.'
They looked up at the clock. 'Oh, my god!' With a sudden flurry, the nurses were up and pulling scrubs out of their lockers. Elizabeth hastily followed suit.
'There you are, Dr Corday.' Anspaugh cornered her as she burst out of the locker room. 'I've been looking for you. He ran his hand over this thinning hair and blew out a breath in frustration. 'I need you to cover the OR this morning. I suppose you've heard about Dr Morgenstern? I'm an attending and a resident down.' He turned his back on her and plunged back over to the nurses' station. Nearly all the attendings were leaning over the desk, arguing over the board and trading their surgeries. The residents and interns fanned out around the edges, waiting for their fate to be decided. Elizabeth followed him to the desk before she realized that she wouldn't be assisting in any surgeries that morning.
She saw Romano turn to the surgeon next to him. 'Hey Martyn. I'm not having Edson for my pyloroplasty. Let me have Rawlinson this morning.'
'Get your own team, Rocket. I'm keeping Sam Rawlinson.'
Romano looked over this shoulder and saw Elizabeth. His jaw tightened and he turned away.
'Aww, c'mon. You can shift your parathyroidectomy to the afternoon. Gives you the morning to catch up on that mile-high stack of notes waiting for you.'
'I don't want to leave it that long. Hey, you can have Rawlinson if you scrub in with me for the parathyroidectomy when you're done. I'll move up a lung biopsy and take Edson first thing. How about it?' He held out his hand.
Romano shook it. 'Done.'
Elizabeth faded back against the wall feeling superfluous. County OR wasn't going to miss her when she was gone. They weren't even missing her when she was standing there. Her pager went off for a consult and she escaped to the ER with something like relief. Even better, it was with Mark Greene.
'Right, what have we got here?'
Mark looked up from their patient with gave her a quick, friendly glance. 'This is Mr Baumgartner, 64 years, came in with worsening pain in legs.' He straightened up and moved his stethoscope from the patient's back. 'Mr Baumgartner, this is Dr Corday. She's going to tell us whether you need an operation.' He handed her the chart and added, 'Mr Baumgartner is a regular heavy smoker. Breath sounds good but suffers from hypertension and peripheral vascular disease.' He waited for Elizabeth to review the chart and films.
'And how far can you walk, Mr Baumgartner?' Elizabeth asked.
'Can't even get up from the couch to walk the toilet without stopping to sit down.' He grimaced. 'The pains shoot down my legs. Two years ago, I could walk a couple of blocks, no problem.'
'Well, we're going to get you sorted out and up on your feet again soon,' she told him. She looked up Mark. 'I'll book in a fem-pop bypass.'
'Thank you, Elizabeth.'
Together they settled their patient. Mark stopped her as they stepped out the door 'Elizabeth,' he hesitated. 'I've heard rumours you're leaving. And about Peter's suspension.'
'I'm afraid they're both true.'
He looked down at her, gently. 'I'm sorry. You're a great doctor.'
'Yes, well, I wish other people thought that, too.' She sighed. 'No, that's unfair. I did violate the hemo-aid study terms. Bloody Romano was probably going to let me write up a paper then spring it on me that I couldn't publish with the data.' She stepped to one side to allow Chuny to slide past with an empty gurney and looked back at Mark. 'I suppose I deserved some of this,' she admitted. She realized something else. 'I'm so sorry. I really hope I didn't get you into any trouble.'
Mark shook his head. 'Don't worry about me. Anspaugh didn't give me any trouble over it. Look, don't let hospital politics get you down. You've just got to keep going one day at a time; doing the best you can for patients. That's what makes the difference in the end.'
He was soothing to her bruised spirit. She thought about Romano's interview. 'Do you like your job, Mark? Not just helping people, I mean, but actually enjoying what you do every day?'
He thought about it, looking around the ER. 'Yeah. Yeah, I do. I know it's tough at times: mentally tough, physically tough, but it gets in your blood after a while. Everyone's here, doing their best. You know what I like most?' He gave her a moment to see if she could guess. 'It's the way that you start fresh with each patient. You get a bad case; you lose a patient and then there's a new patient and you're in there, focused on them.'
'I feel the same about the work,' she agreed. 'I really do - did - enjoy the work here. I liked the variety and the challenge of the work. In London, I wasn't involved with nearly as much trauma work.' I'm going to miss it here despite the madness. 'I wish it wasn't going to end this way,' she admitted.
'It doesn't have to,' he suggested.
'What do you mean?'
'You could apply for other residencies. It's a bit late in the season but there should be jobs still open. You could stay in the state, maybe even in Chicago.'
'I didn't think about that.' The idea was actually quite inspiring. Perhaps she could get more of a focus on trauma work. 'Do you think I might be able to?'
'Yeah, sure. Here, I'll show you the kind of thing to look out for in journals if you like.'
'That's very kind of you.' She followed him into the doctor's lounge.
