Page 19 of Just One Look
With the Dog-Loser
The guy—Luka—said, “No.”
“Pardon?” she asked.
Howcould he be Luka Darkovic, one of the only people she’d metin New Zealand the first time around? Yes, it was a small country, but this was ridiculous. Statistics weren’t individuals, but the probabilities were …
This couldn’t be happening. But it wasn’t a name you saw every day, so ithadto be happening.
Please, let him not remember her.
Also, she’d kicked thebed.When she’d wanted a reboot, she hadn’t meant going back to being a nervous intern!
“You can’t be my surgeon,” he said.
“Except I am.” So far, this adventure was off to a sterling beginning, and he’d been there to observe all of it. Exactly what she did not need.
“Nils Larsen did my injections last time,” he said. “And Jack Porter’s doing them this time. Either one of those will do, but not you.”
She wasn’t eighteen anymore, and she was a professional. “Unfortunately,” she said, making it brisk, “Dr. Porter’s about to drill into somebody’s skull, so I’ll be doing them instead today. I understand that medical situations can be unfamiliar and frightening, but this is a very common procedure, and a very straightforward one. On that note, though, I have two concerns. First, I think you may have exacerbated this injury yesterday during the incident with the dog, which means I’d like to get another scan before we proceed. I also notice that you’ve declined intravenous sedation. Are you sure about that? The sedation is mild and wears off quickly, and this can be a—”
“This can be a what?” He was scowling, and he looked like he was seriously regretting being in a hospital gown. “Are you going to say the ‘frightening’ thing again? It’s not frightening. It’s a few minutes with a needle and some cortisone. I’ll be numb. It’ll be like going to the dentist, except that I won’t even have to open my mouth. What Idocare about is having a doctor who knows what they’re doing, if they’re going anywhere near my spine. I need my spine. And I may have exacerbated it while tackling the dog—yourdog—but it’s the same injury. I can tell. You could call me an expert. I don’t need another MRI.”
She could notbelievethis. Any of it. “I did my first epidural injection when I was about twenty-six,” she told him, holding onto her temper, but not holding it too hard, because this was one of those times when a little temper was necessary. “I’ve done hundreds of them since. It’s not a cutting-edge procedure. And I’m sorry if it interferes with your schedule, but I’m not going in blind after witnessing you injuring yourself further. And, finally, women can be neurosurgeons, too.”
“I didn’t say they couldn’t. I said that I want one who didn’t start doing this yesterday!” His voice had risen a little. It was a deep voice, which made sense, because it was coming from a whole lot of chest.
The curtain rattled again, and a voice from behind Elizabeth said, “Is there a problem?”
A Scandinavian voice. Which would make him Nils Larsen. Senior neurosurgeon, looking down at her from his superior height and his superior age and probably his superior gender, as far as he was concerned.
What waswrongwith this country?
* * *
It was another neurosurgeon.One ofhisneurosurgeons. When you played professional rugby as a forward, you ended up recognizing neurosurgeons, and he wanted this one. He took a breath, then let it out and said, keeping his tone measured, “The problem is that I need an experienced surgeon doing this procedure, as I earn my living with my body. Myfunctioningbody.”
The warrior queen opened her mouth. “And, no,” he told her, “not in the way you’re thinking.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and then she said, “I’m not thinking that. Because who’d—” And then shut her mouth again.
She’d meant to say, “Who’d pay you?” He could tell. He smiled at her and said, “You’d be surprised.” And saw her flush a little.
Temper. Heat. Also, he’d won this one.
“Ah,” Nils said, smiling as much as a thin, dry guy was ever going to smile. Now,thatwas a neurosurgeon. “Luka Darkovic, from the Blues. Here for his …”
“Cervical epidural steroidal injection,” the woman—whatever her name was—said. “I’m just explaining to him that it’s a straightforward procedure.”
“I know it’s a straightforward procedure,” Luka said. “I’ve had it done before, and more than once.”
“You have,” Nils said. “I did one of them myself.”
“Want to do this one?” Luka asked. “I’ll wait.”
“Because Dr. Wolcott is young?” Nils asked, with some more of that almost-smile. “Or because she’s a woman? Which is it, I wonder? Choose your answer carefully.”
“I don’t care that she’s a woman,” Luka said. “I care that I haven’t seen her being competent at much so far.”
