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I sat down on a seat outside the theatre and watched the nurses rush, and the orderlies push beds, and the doctors stare down at their pagers in weary frustration.
“Feeling better?” the scrub nurse said, appearing out of thin air and leaning against the doorway beside me.
“Just needed a bit of air.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he offered. “It was the crack of the ribs that did me in when I was training.”
I huffed out a strangled laugh.
He smiled.
“They’re putting your heart valve in now. Want to watch?”
I nodded my head, stiffened my back, and followed the man back inside.
The perfusionist offered me a slow shake of his head. The anaesthetist chuckled. The surgeon asked if I had kept my breakfast down.
The heart valve went in without issue. The cardiopulmonary bypass machine functioned perfectly. The theatre staff danced under the rain and somehow managed not to get wet.
I changed into my business suit in the ladies toilet. Running my hand over my jacket to smooth out any wrinkles, a deformity in the pocket caught my attention.
I reached inside and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Opening it up, I found a picture of a frowny face and a Quick-Eze tablet. Upside down words were written along the bottom.
I turned the paper over, making the frown become a smile, and read the words.
For after. In case you need it. M.
I stared down at the antacid tablet, remembering when I’d left the office.
A pat on the back, a knowing smile, a brush of his hand on my hip as he’d walked past.
And then his footfalls disappearing behind me in the warehouse.
I slipped the tablet into my mouth and stared at the smiley face.
My breaths came too quickly. My heartbeat thundered.
The antacid got to work on my stomach.
