AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I try to hold my head as high as I can as I march out of Harrison’s room and toward the side door where my shoes are.
It’s only once I have my shoes on and am walking through the cool night to my house that I realize I left my clothes in Harrison’s bathroom.
Oh well. I have to go back over tomorrow to take care of Jaxon anyway. I’ll clean up my things then.
The hurt from Harrison’s violent denial of needing me stings, but the alcohol helps me fall asleep easily.
Chapter fourteen
Harrison
My patient passed away on the operating table.
I stand there in shock for a moment, watching as everyone tries to revive him. But I know he’s gone.
It’s only happened two times in my career as a neurosurgeon. We always warn the family that has an at-risk patient that something could happen, but…
The weight of loss hangs heavily in the air as I leave the operating room, the sterile environment contrasting sharply with the heavy emotions that accompany an unexpected outcome. The news of my patient's passing on the operating table weighs on my shoulders, casting a somber shadow over the otherwise bustling hospital.
Taking a moment to collect myself, I instruct the nurse to reschedule my last appointment of the day, ensuring that my calendar remains clear until Monday. The emotional toll of the loss is too much to bear, and the prospect of diving into another surgery immediately is daunting.
Navigating the quiet hallways, I find solace in the brief respite from the operating room's harsh reality. The echoes of medical staff moving efficiently through their tasks surround me, but my thoughts are consumed by the profound impact of the recent events.
As I make my way to the office, the weight of the loss still lingers, settling in the pit of my stomach. I sit behind my desk, grappling with the mix of emotions that accompany the loss of a patient under my care. The responsibility and dedication that come with being a neurosurgeon demand not only clinical expertise but also an emotional resilience that allows me to navigate the complexities of life and death.
The phone on my desk buzzes, momentarily interrupting my thoughts. It's a nurse informing me that the family of the deceased patient would like to speak with me. Taking a deep breath, I acknowledge the request, knowing that this conversation is an inevitable part of the process.
As I prepare to meet with the grieving family, the weight of the white coat feels heavier than usual. The journey to offer solace and answers to those left behind begins, and I carry the responsibility with the gravity it deserves. In moments like these, the line between professional duty and the human connection forged in medicine becomes all the more poignant.
When I finally find the courage to rise from my desk, I think that I’m ready to face the family. But that thought disappears as soon as I see the new widow openly weeping.
I clasp my hands behind my back and maintain eye contact, even though all I want to do is escape.
I go through exactly what happened, explaining that his brain was just too overloaded. It couldn’t handle the stress of the surgery.
The man’s widow throws herself into my arms, and I extricate myself from her, offering her as much sympathy as I can.
I hand her a pamphlet that is on the waiting room walls, a pamphlet that I rarely have the need to offer someone as it discusses how to deal with death.
By the time I escape from the grieving family, I can’t think straight.
I don’t want to go home. I don’t know if I could handle Jaxon’s energy as he bounces off the walls and begs me to play things with him.
I need a couple of drinks first.
Going to a bar where I’m not as well-known, I take a back booth and order a whisky along with a shot of vodka.
The cocktail waitress who delivers them seems to sense something sad is happening in my life. She pats me on the shoulder, and I want to shake her off.
I’m so annoyed by this, by everything. But I have to get my frustration under control.
I pull up the cameras at home. The living room camera indicates that there is activity, so I pull up that feed.
Breanna and Jaxon are on the floor with his bin of plastic dinosaurs. Jaxon has lined them up, and he’s making them attack Breanna one by one.
I can’t help but smile as I see the light-hearted way that she reacts. She raises her hands and fake screams as each dinosaur bites into her leg.
In that moment, the weight on my shoulders lightens just a little, and the frustrations of the day momentarily recede. The genuine connection between Breanna and Jaxon, captured through the lens of the camera, serves as a reminder that life, despite its challenges, continues to unfold in moments of joy and simplicity.
