Page 66 of Fourteen of a Kind
“The candy?”
“Yep. His wife had been giving them to him while we weren’t looking. He had three of them in his mouth when we went to give him a relaxer before taking him to the O.R.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I shook my head. “Is he still in pre-op?”
“He sure is.”
“I’ll be there in a second.”
Drying my hands, I stormed out of the scrub room and to the pre-op area. Pulling back the curtain, I stared at Mr. Riley.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been eating hot tamales right before surgery? What part of nothing to eat or drink after midnight did you not understand?” I looked at his wife, who was sitting in the chair. “What is wrong with you?”
“Don’t blame her, Dr. Kind. I was hungry,” Mr. Riley said.
“Hungry? You were hungry? Are you serious? You’re overweight, unhealthy, had a heart attack, and you’re eating hot tamales right before surgery?” I shouted.
“Hey, Dr. Kind. What’s going on in here?” My Uncle Conner walked over.
“Did you ever stop to think that those damn hot tamales have something to do with your arteries being blocked? You’re on borrowed time, Mr. Riley. Think about that!” I pointed at him. “We’ll have to reschedule your surgery, and next time, you’re staying in this hospital the night before with a sitter so they can keep an eye on you like a child!” I walked away.
“Hey, hey, hey.” My Uncle Conner grabbed my arm and stopped me. “I always knew you were a fierce doctor, but damn, Ella.”
I placed the back of my hand on my forehead and sighed. “He was eating hot tamales before surgery.”
“Yes, I know. In fact, the entire pre-op knows that now.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night, Uncle Conner.”
“Why?”
“Too much on the brain. I have to go. I’ll see you later.” I walked away.
I was sitting in my office when Uncle Christian walked in.
“I heard you yelled at a patient in pre-op.” A smirk crossed his lips. “You’re the talk of the hospital.”
“What else is new?” I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. “My overweight artery-clogged patient was eating hot tamales in the pre-op room.”
“Did you have to yell at him?” His brow arched.
“Yes, because he’s not taking his health seriously. Ugh.” I brought my hands up to my face.
“What’s really going on? This isn’t like you.”
“Graham and Grandma,” I blurted out.
“Barb? What about her?” He frowned. “Was she here yesterday for something other than lunch?”
I stared at him and didn’t say a word.
“I can access any patient’s medical records I want. You know that.”
“She has late-onset Alzheimer’s.”
“Shit.” He shook his head. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I made her come in for an MRI, and there’s significant atrophy of the brain.”
