Page 15 of The Bitter Rival

Slowly, additional team members trickle in. I still find this whole experience exhilarating. To be involved in even a small way in something as profound as repairing an injured body part is incredible to me. I know I’m only here to obtain pictures for the surgeon. Shots that will guide them toward making the patient whole again. Snapshots that will enlighten them on how they’re doing and where they may need to adjust. I need to focus on my part of this elaborate jigsaw puzzle and not respond to the actions of those around me. Jeff is right. I have a job to do, and I plan to do it well.

Light chatter invades the room as the patient is prepared. This surgery will be different than those I’ve attended in the past. This patient is only receiving what Jeff called a Bier block. That means they’ll only numb the hand, but he’ll otherwise be wide awake. I’m not sure if this is why the room feels more tense than usual. Dr. Barnes performed a rotator cuff repair on an older man’s shoulder and had nineties music playing in the OR suite throughout the procedure. Dr. Morgan’s cases occur without music, but he interjects bad jokes throughout the procedure. From what Jeff tells me, he has like ten kids or something, so maybe ‘Dad jokes’ are all he knows.

A hush abruptly falls on the room, jolting me from my internal musings. I look up to see who I assume is the surgeon walking in. He appears formidable. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and there is a definite air of confidence about his stature. He’s wearing some type of headset with glasses attached, allowing visualization of the bone fragments and tendons more easily, I suppose. It’s eerie how silent the OR has become. Is it always this way when he operates? The utter quiet alone is unnerving. If he was condescending to Erin after standing in this intimidating environment for too long, it’s no wonder she didn’t want to come back.

Watching his every move, curiosity getting the best of me, I notice he bends down to speak with the patient and greets the nurse anesthetist briefly. He turns back toward the bedside and stands alongside the patient’s right hand. There is no additional conversation or introduction to the remaining surgical team members. But I’m probably the only one new here.

I hear his deep gravelly voice as he announces the time and begins the surgery. My heart is beating so fast. Is it just as Jeff had warned? Was I tooin my own headabout what Erin had said? Why was I so on edge with this case?

Sebastian

Thank fuck. Jeff is here.My stress level can’t handle another case like the ones lately. I need to be surrounded by capable team members. I cannot afford to be distracted by the lackluster performance I’ve seen in this hospital as of late.

Greeting the patient and nurse anesthetist as I approach the table, I confirm the patient is ready to go. This procedure will not be performed under general anesthesia, adding to the stress level a bit, given the patient is a local celebrity. Focus is the name of the game. Hopefully, we can keep chatter to a minimum today.

“I can’t believe I’m getting to meet you, sir.” Jason, the nurse anesthetist, whispers to the patient.Well, so much for that thought. “My wife gave me one of your paintings as a wedding gift.”

“Oh, that’s very nice to hear. Thank you, son,” the older patient replies.

I glare over my mask at Jason, trying to get my point across. Pausing for enough time to pass that he might realize something’s amiss, he eventually looks up. Instantly aware of my ire by the expression on his face, I’m hoping everyone at the table follows suit and keeps their comments to themselves from here on out.Jesus, I need this one to go well.

I test Mr. Hansen’s hand to ensure it’s numb before beginning the procedure. The room is now quiet, and I zone in on the task at hand. The index finger of his dominant hand is broken, and the tendon is lacerated from the use of that table saw. Why anyone would use a table saw when they knew their art was at stake is beyond me. I wouldn’t contemplate such a thing knowing it would destroy my career. I remove the stitches temporarily placed in his finger to hold the wound together and find the exposed bone. Only one end of the torn tendon is visible. After the wound is well irrigated, I look toward Jeff, giving him the signal that I’m going to need a visualization on the C arm soon. I need to verify no other bone shards are farther down and verify alignment before I secure the fractured pieces.

Sensing a presence beside me, my skin starts to heat. I’m unsure what this is all about, as I’ve never felt this in an OR before. Glancing to my left to investigate, I realize someone small is stepping onto a stool beside me.What the ever-loving hell?Every time I think I’m gaining control of the situation in here, someone tries to throw another wrench in the system. “Jeff, this isn’t preschool career day. I want you operating this C arm so I can proceed, not someone needing a booster seat.”

A voice clears beside me.

“Bella has this, Dr. Lee. I’m right here. But she’s got this,” Jeff says calmly. I can tell he’s right behind us, but I’d prefer to have one fucking surgical case that doesn’t turn into a train wreck today. Why on earth does he think this girl should be assisting me with this instead of a fully trained professional? Couldn’t she learn on a hip replacement? Was he sleeping with this girl? What’s his need to involve her in a case of this magnitude versus taking over as I’d requested? The more I question his motives, the more agitated I become.

“Jeff, I want someone who doesn’t have training wheels on today,” I bark.

“Dr. Lee, she’s got this,” he repeats. Not an ounce of emotion in his voice.

My anger is beyond a simmer. The day… hell, the last ten days is catching up with me. I still have a ways to go to repair this finger. I need to get my temper under control before the whole town learns there are no more R. B. Garland seascapes because Dr. Lee couldn’t get the job done.

I glance toward the petite radiology tech, now standing on the stool beside me. I can see her narrowed eyes between the blue surgical cap and mask. There is a fire there. A dark, brown blaze beginning to rage.Who does this girl think she is?No one dares look at me that way, much less during surgery. And a student no less. I’m the maestro of this complicated concerto. She needs to learn some respect. Maybethat’swhat this case will teach her. “Bella, is it?” I hiss.

She responds with a curt nod, no words. Just a quick dip of the chin and that piercing glare.

“Can I have a shot of the finger so I can repair this patient’s wound?” I sneer.

Snapping her head back in the direction of the machine, she meticulously adjusts the unit in an attempt to gather the shots I need to proceed.

I’m so angry now, everything feels as if it’s moving in slow motion. My pulse is beating in my ears, my head starting to pound. There’s a familiar tingling sensation settling into my fingertips as I stand waiting as if I’ve been holding my surgical instruments for so long my hands have fallen asleep. Feeling out of control has become a definite trigger for the poor outcome of many surgeries of late. I need to wrap my head around how to quelch this feeling while I’m in Bali. Unfortunately, I don’t have a technique in place for that now.

“We don’t have all day.” Pause. “This is pain-” The shot appears on the screen, interrupting my rant. As my eyes flick back in the technician’s direction, I’m met with a smug glower. Her pupils are so dark I can barely find where they stop, and her deep brown irises begin. They’re practically smoldering.Hell, I’d be turned on right now if I weren’t so fucking mad.

“I think you’re done here, Bella,” I toss in her direction, emphasizing her name in annoyance. I dive into the completion of the delicate task in front of me. Feeling her retreat, I let out a quiet exhalation and refocus. As I reach for a surgical instrument, I shift my stance slightly and nearly trip over the stool which remains by my side. “Jeff!”

“Yes, sir. I apologize, Dr. Lee. That was completely my fault.”

Standing there, momentarily trying to calm my nerves, I take in my surroundings. The surgical team at the bedside all look like they want to dive under the table for cover. Jason is looking down at Mr. Hansen. I’ve completely forgotten he’s been awake through this entire procedure.Fuck!No one should ever hear their surgeon behave this way. Looking across the room, I notice Jeff whispering into the ear of the small-framed radiology tech I shamed moments ago. Yet, she doesn’t appear defeated. She doesn’t look the least bit intimidated. She looks pissed.

Get your head back in the game, Sebastian. Find the pieces of severed tendon, sew him up and get the hell out of here before you do anything else you’ll regret.I’m already going to have to come up with a suitable apology for Mr. Hansen when I see him in the recovery unit. I need to do some serious soul searching in Bali. This behavior cannot continue, even ifI amsurrounded by incompetence.

I manage to repair the tendon and close the wound without another incident occurring. My heartbeat thundering in my ears has been the soundtrack to the second half of this painful surgery. I don’t care what else is on the books after I get out of this OR suite, I’m getting Dr. Morgan’s PA to handle it. I have to get the hell out of this hospital before I lose it. As soon as I can make it out of here, I’m changing clothes, apologizing to Mr. Hansen, then going home for a swim and a bottle of Scotch.

Walking away from the tension-filled operating room, I pull off my gown, gloves, and mask and dispose of them in the appropriate bin. I need to get my fury under control before I make more of a scene than I already have. I’m fully aware of my reputation here. Apparently, I’m an overbearing, condescending asshole when I’m not trying to score my next lay. Since my stress level has climbed to monumental heights, my behavior at Mary Immaculate has begun to slip as well. I have to face it. I chose this profession. Stress or not, I need to get my act together or find a different line of work. Maybe I need to consider concierge medicine. There I’d only see high-paying clients who practically have me on retainer.Hell, that might be more stressful.

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