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Chapter 2
Finn O’Connor
Eight hours in surgery with an open-heart patient was exhausting enough, but back-to-back surgeries was insane. It wasn’t as though I was the only heart surgeon at the hospital, but my counterpart seemed to be MIA. What the fuck is wrong with him? Lives were at stake. Thankfully both patients survived, but if I wasn’t there or if my hands were unsteady after pulling such long hours, that might not have been the case.
Something had to change. I didn’t care what time it was, Chief of Staff Mike Murray was going to hear from me. He wasn’t going to like what I had to say, either. If it meant he fired me, then I hoped my dismissal would be a wake-up call for the other surgeons. We’re not God, but when someone is in crisis, we’re the next best thing. It wasn’t like this was the only hospital in Ireland. I could take my credentials and work anywhere.
With each step toward Murray’s office, I felt the tension within me building. This meeting could become explosive if I didn’t maintain control of myself. Focusing on the facts and keeping an even keel was important, especially because Murray never displayed any form of emotion. If someone told me he was, in fact, an artificial intelligence wearing a human costume, for a moment I might believe them. No one would ever accuse me of that - I wear my feelings on my sleeve for the world to see. Right now, I was doing everything I could do to keep them in check.
When I arrived at his office, the door was open and the lights on. I knocked on the doorjamb and popped my head in. Murray was seated at his desk typing on his laptop.
“Come in, O’Connor, and have a seat,” he said without even looking up.
I did as he instructed. “How did you know it was me?”
He continued typing but replied, “I received a call from the operating room. It appears someone on your surgical team noticed you were a bit…displeased.” Murray closed the laptop and looked directly at me.
Fucking pissed is more accurate.
“Are you aware of what my day has been like?” I asked, knowing damn well no open-heart surgery would have taken place otherwise.
“If you mean that you had two successful surgeries, then yes. If it has to do with your personal life, then no, and I don’t care to hear about it, either,” he stated flatly.
“Two surgeries, back-to-back. If I was the only cardiac surgeon at the hospital, I would understand this. If Dr. Snyder was ill or away on vacation, I’d understand. He is neither,” I snapped.
“You were not alone. There was an entire team there to support you, as well as two of our best interns.”
My blood boiled and I couldn’t control my temper any longer. “None of them were responsible for the life of the patient. I was. If something went wrong, it was on me. And if the patient died, I was the one who would need to go out to the waiting room and deliver the tragic news to the family, not my team.” And sure as fuck, not you!
“But nothing went wrong. Both patients are doing well.” He opened his laptop again and added, “I will make note of your displeasure of working such long hours, but they do come with the job.”
I knew my job. I’d been working at this hospital for six years. Murray’s answer didn’t sit well with me. “Where the hell was Dr. Snyder? Why wasn’t he assigned to this patient?”
Murray turned his attention to me and said, “The patient was in better hands with you.”
“Dr. Snyder is just as good a surgeon as I am,” I reminded him.
“For personal reasons I do not agree with, Dr. Snyder could not operate on your patient,” Murray said.
Fuck.
“We take an oath. There is no room for political or religious opinions in the OR,” I snarled. “The man is a human being, and it is our job to do all we can to save him.”
“Which you did. Now I suggest you go home and get some rest. Your patients will need you to be fresh for their follow-up in the morning.” Murray looked back at his laptop and said, “Goodnight, Dr. O’Connor.”
I got up and left his office. Murray knew what happened today was wrong, and from what I saw, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. It sickened me to think that as doctors we could pick and choose based on personal beliefs. I knew Dr. Snyder had strong opinions, but until now, I never thought he would let them jeopardize a person’s life. The respect I had for him as a doctor was dwindling fast.
Murray was right about one thing, though, and that was I needed out of this place tonight. Going straight home wouldn’t deliver the much-needed sleep, however. I needed a cold beer or two.
My pub of choice was a few blocks from the hospital. I liked it because it was mostly locals who hung there and not hospital staff. Right now, I wanted to be alone and not talk about work.
Quickly, I changed out of my scrubs and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The night was cold, but I found the air refreshing. Just being out of there helped me breathe a little easier. A few beers would do the rest. It wasn’t a solution, but nothing I said or did would be.
As I sat at the bar working on my second beer, I couldn’t get past the feeling of helplessness. I didn’t want to sit back and accept the problems the hospital was having, but I had no power to change them. If I voiced my opinion too strongly, it might cause the entire hospital to go into chaos and take sides. Things were bad enough; I wasn’t about to add fuel to the fire.
Snyder and I are going to have a private conversation about this.
“Is this seat taken?” a woman to my right asked softly. I’d been so lost in thought that I didn’t notice her approach.
