Page 59 of Endurance
“Would everyone just give me some space?” I mumble and stand to head upstairs to the room I lived in when things were simple…when Booker, Camden, and I all played on the same team and football was all that mattered.
As I walk in, everything suddenly feels different. The bed looks smaller. The area seems tighter. Even my furniture seems to have aged tremendously. I glance down inside my trousers to ensure that my fucking cock hasn’t shrunk back into the prepubescent stage. I exhale a sigh of relief to see it’s still at its adult glory.
However, that realisation doesn’t bring me peace. It just makes the fact that I’ve changed all the more obvious. I’m no longer the person I used to be. I can see that now. And the guilt that Vi and Indie were projecting on me hits me like a ton of bricks.
I didn’t invite Belle here because I thought nothing had changed between us. But, looking around right now, I realise that everything has changed. Even my bloody bedroom.
It wasn’t long ago that I still lived here. Camden was in his room across from me. Booker was down the hall. We all stayed here for longer than normal as grown men because football and family was all we allowed into our lives. It consumed us so much that we became codependent on it and each other, not allowing anything else to penetrate that force field.
Well, Belle’s penetrated it. Hard. And no matter how much I enjoy penetration, this is a different kind of balls deep than I’m used to.
As much as that thought scares me…as much as I want to fight it, the idea of losing her scares me, too.
STANDING IN A DARK SURGERYtheatre with Dr. Miller, two other fellows, and several surgical support staff, my eyes are razor focused on a bright screen and the control panel beside it.
Today we are working to correct a fatal abnormalitycalled congenital diaphragmatic hernia with a procedure that is currently undergoing randomised trials. CDH happens to about one in four thousand unborn babies. It is when a hole develops in their diaphragm. If left untreated, it can leave their lungs underdeveloped, making a healthy delivery impossible.
Dr. Miller’s voice is loud and clear as she speaks to the viewers in the gallery window above us. “Today we are attempting to perform foetoscopic tracheal occlusion. This is the surgery that your donor funds will go toward this year as we continue to expand on this highly treatable condition.” She pauses to touch the mother’s shoulder who’s lying on her back wide awake as we wait for the epidural anaesthesia to take effect.
The mother looks at me with wide, glossy eyes, so I give her a nod of encouragement that she seems to appreciate.
Dr. Miller continues, “I will insert a miniature latex balloon through the uterine wall and down through the mouth of our tiny patient. Positioned in the windpipe, I will then inflate. The balloon will operate as a little cork until it needs to come out when our mother reaches full term pregnancy. This will help the baby’s lungs to develop and increase the survival rate by thirty-five percent. Any questions?”
I have a million but I’m biting my tongue, doing my best to take it all in.
“Then let’s begin.”
I can feel Dr. Miller’s eyes on me as I look back at the screen. “Dr. Ryan, I was very impressed with you last week when we worked on those TTTS twins.”
My mask covers my jaw dropping. “Thank you, Dr. Miller,” I stammer.
“I’d like you to feed in the foetoscope.” Her eyes narrow and look down at the side of the mother’s belly where the camera will be inserted into the uterus.
“Yes, Dr. Miller,” I reply, wishing I could thank her for the opportunity, but knowing confidence is all that I need to project when we have a conscious mother on the table.
My hands are rock steady as I move to take Dr. Miller’s place and begin a once-in-a-lifetime experience. This is what I appreciate about this specialty. I get to touch something that is untouchable. I have the chance to save something that someone deemed unsavable. It makes everything outside of this room disappear. These moments of clarity I receive when I’m operating fill my veins with meaning and purpose. This is where I belong.
Thisis what real life is about. Nothing else will ever feel so big when I’m able to save something so small.
As I drive home after a long day in surgery, I feel desperate for a drink and to lie down. My mind is whirling with all that happened today, not only for the family that got a second chance with their baby, but with my career. It was an incredible day.
It’s not until I park in front of my flat that I finally pull out my mobile and see I have several texts. I slide out of my car and begin to open the first one when I hear someone clear their throat.
I practically jump out of my trainers when I see Tanner seated on the concrete steps leading up to my building.
“Tanner, you scared me half to death! What are you doing, perving in the dark like a creeper?”
“I’m not perving, I’m just…waiting,” he stammers, a sheepish look on his face as he stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been texting you.”
I sigh, taking in his tall, large frame, his stupid, messy man bun, and his nappy beard. It all makes me sad.
“I literally just looked at my mobile for the first time all day.”
“What about yesterday?” His brow is furrowed as he awaits my reply. He looks so much younger than twenty-six right now.
“I was busy prepping for the surgery I had today,” I lie.
“How’d it go?” He looks genuinely interested.
