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That had gone fast. “Already?”
“Yes, first thing on Monday.”
Well, then Davis and I would have to work together. “When did you say Mr. Hardcastle will be back?”
The secretary glanced at his door again. “I don’t know; Dr. Okafor said he wouldn’t be back this week.”
I nodded slowly. We’d lived lifetimes this week. It was hard to fathom that the project that had forced us together was still in progress.
While the task force would look good on my résumé like everyone said, I didn’t have to include it if we didn’t finish. I didn’t bear the ultimate responsibility. If the task force failed, it would reflect poorly on Davis, not me.
I still had the guidelines Davis had worked on in isolation. I checked the time: I had a conference, a bunch of test results and cultures due back, and a hundred other things to do that weren’t patient care but were urgent to me or someone.
Maybe this wasn’t urgent, and maybe this wasn’t my job, but it was important, and I owed Davis one. More than one. “Does Dr. Okafor have any time in her schedule today that I could meet with her to approve the revised guidelines?”
“Let me check.” He turned to his computer and clicked around for a minute. “I can get you in with her at 3:30. Does that work for you?”
“I’ll clear my schedule.” I hurried back to my desk in Infectious Disease, where I’d stashed Davis’s edited guidelines.
I’d made it through the first page when Dr. Donaldson approached my desk. He couldn’t quite seem to focus on me. “I had something to ask you,” he murmured.
“Okay?” When he didn’t actually ask anything, I started to get worried. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah—no.” His gaze wandered around the room in search of a better answer.
I sucked in a breath. I’d never seen Dr. Donaldson this off before. He didn’t seem unwell. Had something gone terribly wrong in an experiment? “Do you want to talk about it?”
Dr. Donaldson studied my words for a long time, his stare intense. He was handsome, I had to remind myself. Wouldn’t he be a better person to fixate on than Davis?
There was no hope of changing that attachment now.
“Um, it’s my grandma,” he said at last. “She’s in a-fib.”
This time I gasped (and not because Dr. Donaldson spoke like a walking encyclopedia in the middle of a traumatic event). His grandma had developed an irregular heart rhythm that could be nothing—or could be fatal. “Oh no, is she okay?”
“She’s still stable, but...”
But what? Did she have a family history of this? Any underlying conditions? Comorbidities? Medications?
Finally I remembered I was not taking his grandma’s patient history: I was Dr. Donaldson’s friend, or at least his work... warm acquaintance. I didn’t need her medical history; I needed to support Dr. Donaldson. “Oh.” I patted his arm. “Can you see her?”
“She’s in Virginia.”
“Ah. I’m so sorry, Adam.” Saying his first name felt awkward, though I’d called dozens of other doctors by their first names. Still, he was a colleague and... a friend.
And he was a real person somewhere under all the mantles of doctor and scientist, one with a grandma he loved.
“Thank you,” he said on a shuddering breath. “I... She’s lucid enough that she was able to authorize sharing her medical records with me.”
That ought to make him feel better. Even if it was bad news, at least he’d know for himself. “If you need a consult on that,” I offered, as if I had any medical insight that Dr. Donaldson didn’t.
He sighed. “We’re supposed to go on a cruise for her birthday next month. Her ninetieth.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. I’m sure she’ll pull through all right—and you all should definitely go. You could use the break, the time with her. Man.” I shook my head. “I would love a cruise.”
Dr. Donaldson’s gaze finally focused on me. “Yeah, you’re right. We should go.”
“Yes.” I made my voice and my nod equally firm. “I’ll write a prescription if it’ll make it stick.”
