Page 59 of Love Sick

Without my senior for guidance, the game I play balancing it all has become treacherous. I’m walking a tightrope, and it’s only a matter of time before I fall. The ASCOM internal hospital phone snapped onto the waist of my pants barely stops ringing—nurses requesting med orders, informing me of triage patients, signing out on ED consults. I call Asher often since his schedule on GYN surgery is a little more free, and he’s always willing to help me untangle the knots.

I stand at the nursing station where the screens display the fetal tracings from all twenty-five labor rooms on this floor. I’m most concerned about my patient in twelve, who has a raging case of meth-eclampsia. She’s kind and thankful despite withdrawing from her drug of choice, but loopy from all the meds.

Judging by the heart tracing, the baby isn’t too happy.

“Gosh, Dr. Rose,” one of the nurses says in a falsely sweet voice. “You’ve lost weight.”

That’s because I’m so anxious, I can’t eat, and I’ve gotten most of my calories lately from Starbucks and Mountain Dew, but thanks.

“Yeah.” I glance at my scrubs, hanging loose from my body. Even my bras are a little too big.

“What’s your secret?” she asks.

Um. Not having time to eat? Running around this hospital for thirteen hours each day? Generalized anxiety disorder? Take your pick.

I glance at her. She’s about my age, and the badge clipped at her chest declares her name to be Ariel. She’s thin as a thirty-gauge needle, so I can’t imagine she’s trying to lose weight. Some game is at play here, one I don’t understand.

I paste on a smile. “No secret. Just…working a lot.”

“Oh. Well, maybe not enough since you forgot to put in the induction orders on twenty-two.”

“Oh shoot. Sorry.”

Her sweet smile does nothing to hide the iciness in her eyes. “Maybe you could do it now instead of saying something snotty like you usually do.”

My teeth grind. These women hate me. I’ve done nothing but work and try to be friendly, but I’m quiet and socially awkward, and I wear anxiety like an itchy body suit, so I think I come across as snobbish. Their cattiness is at a maximum. The night resident told me they complain about me behind my back. Maybe they believe the rumors, too.

I sit at the computer without saying anything and put in the standard induction orders—the ones she could have done herself in the same amount of time it took to berate me. When I glance at the tracings, twelve’s heart rate has decided to take a nosedive into the eighties—not reassuring.

I meet the nurse in the room. What’s this one’s name? Krystal.

The patient is screaming, “Get it out of me! Get it out!”

Nine months into training, and I’m pretty immune to all this. The screaming. The heart rate decelerations. The bleeding that sometimes looks like someone turned on a faucet. I used to have a spike in my own heart rate, a flush of sweat under my arms. Now, I’m only hoping she’s a good pusher so I’ll have time to eat some peanut butter before the next disaster.

“Will you call Dr. K and Dr. Narayan?” I ask the nurse.

She nods.

The patient is nearly crowning, and the father of the baby shouts, “Oh shit! What’s that?”

“That’s your baby’s head.” I gown up, pulling a stool between the patient’s legs.

Backup nurses flood the room, but Dr. Narayan is down in the attending lounge eating lunch, so I doubt she’ll make it.

Two involuntary pushes, and the baby screams out her first breath. Distracted by the newborn on her chest, the patient doesn’t react as I deliver the placenta and evaluate the laceration. This is my least favorite part of delivering babies—putting together the mashed hamburger meat left behind.

After numbing her, I go to work.

“Hey, Doc. Make sure to put in an extra stitch for me.” The dad winks and laughs.

I look at him, blink twice and turn back to the laceration.

“No, but really,” he says.

The sleep and food deprivation finally hits me when I meet his gaze and give a tight smile. “How small do you need it?”

The nurse assessing the baby snickers, and I return to my work while the dad flushes red.

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