Lincoln: You running late? We’re at the bar, waiting for you.
Roman: Everything all right? I can’t stay long. Eva is home with the baby. Wanted to catch up.
Dean: Another late night at the office? Please text us to let us know you’re okay. We’re worried about you.
Sawyer: If you don’t text us soon with proof of life, I’m afraid Walker might storm the hospital to confirm it with his own eyes. You’ve been warned.
Lincoln: He’s right. Walker is starting to get worried.
I close out of the group chat and see a string of separate messages from Walker.
Walker: Just got to the bar. No one’s here yet. What am I ordering you?
Walker: Please come soon. Sawyer won’t stop talking about himself. We need a distraction. You walking in might cause his brain to shift subjects for at least two seconds.
Walker: Nvm. Dean told him to shut the fuck up. Are you almost here?
Walker: Okay, I’m concerned now. Text me or give me a call when you’re on your way.
Walker: If you don’t answer by the time we are done, I’m coming to find you.
I click on his name and text him back before I end up having to bail him out of jail for breaking through security. He’s become such a softy since he became a father.
Me: Sorry, man. I got caught up at work, looking over a patient’s charts. I completely lost track of time and forgot all about our meetup.
I see the dots appear right away.
Walker: You work too hard. You’re supposed to ease up as you get older.
I push my phone into my pants pocket. I’m too tired to deal with his concern. He doesn’t get it. No one does.
I massage the headache forming like it might help ease the pain, then look back at my screen. The data doesn’t change. It never does.
At some point, medicine stops being about answers and becomes about timing. When to stop pushing. When to stop pretending there’s more to offer.
Tomorrow, I’ll sit across from them and choose my words carefully. Tonight, I’ll keep reading. As long as I’m reading, there’s still something I can pretend to fix.
I wake up as my body registers the stiffness in my neck. I turn my head to the left, then to the right, and each movement sends a brutally sharp pain through my body.
Where the hell am I?
Lifting my head, I scan my surroundings in a blur. I shake my head in an effort to focus.
Myoffice.
I rub my eyes, then proceed to open Peter’s chart again to see how his numbers were throughout the night.
No changes.
Dammit. I’m not surprised, but it’s not what I want to see.
There’s a sudden knock on my office door.
“Come in,” I shout.
Our nursing manager opens the door and peeks her head inside. “Hi, Chief.” She smiles brightly. “Wanted to remind you that we’ve got a new nurse starting today—Melissa Rivers.”
“Got it. Thanks, Stephanie.”
