Page 45 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

"Morning."

Keisha grins as she walks past. "I passed." I stop. "The certification exam?"

She nods proudly. "Ninety-one percent." I smile. "I never doubted you."

"You should tell Captain Walker that."

"Why?"

"He quizzed me on medication calculations yesterday."

I blink. "He what?"

"He said worrying wasn't helping me remember formulas."

She laughs. "Turns out he was right."

I finish entering Jamie's therapy notes before opening the latest imaging report.

Exactly what we'd hoped to see. The clavicle repair is stable. The lung continues expanding normally.

His oxygen levels have remained excellent all day. Even the swelling has begun to decrease.

I smile to myself. Medicine likes measurable victories.

Numbers.

Images.

Progress notes.

Healing that can be proven.

Marie wheels her cart past me, breaking my thoughts. Unexpectedly she looks at me and says: “I’m going to file a complaint…”

Confused, all I can respond with is: "Oh?"

"When your hockey captain goes home..."

She points toward Room 312 and continues. "...morale on this floor is going to drop."

Laughter ripples through the nurses' station. Even Dr. Whitaker looks up from his coffee.

"You know it's bad," he says, "when the housekeeping staff starts adopting patients."

I shake my head.

"I'll make a note in the chart." "'Patient causes emotional dependence among hospital employees.'"

Keisha laughs. "I'd sign that."

I can't help smiling. Only four days. Four days. That's all Jamie Walker has been here.

Yet somehow...everyone speaks about him the same way they speak about coworkers they've known for years.

It’s not because he's famous. Nobody here cares about the television interviews. Nobody asks for photographs. Nobody mentions statistics.

Instead...