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That’s why Rainier is being very careful. I watch his fingers closely as he removes the piece of metal embedded in the patient’s skull and brain. I hold my breath as he counts to three, and when he pulls the metal out, I let out a sigh of relief, relief which is heightened when we don’t see any bleeding.
“Look at that,” he says. “This girl is very lucky. If that piece of metal was any deeper, entered somewhere else, or was at a different angle, she could have died or she could have ended up being paralyzed for the rest of her life or she could have lost all her memories or her speech, her vision. But look at that.”
“It’s a miracle,” I say. “After all, it is the season of miracles.”
Yes, what happened is a tragedy. I feel bad for all those Christmas shoppers, and I understand if some of them now hate Christmas like I heard some of them say. But I still believe Christmas is the most magical time of the year.
Rainier smiles beneath his mask. “Well, whatever it is, this girl is going to live. That’s a great present, right?”
“The best,” I answer. “By the way, we still don’t know who she is, right?”
“Nope. No ID.”
Poor girl. She must have been shopping alone, maybe for a boyfriend or a best friend or even her parents.
Her parents. They must be so worried about her.
Suddenly, a phone beeps. Rainier’s phone. A nurse picks it up.
“Dr. Knight, they need you downstairs,” she says. “There’s a man who’s just suffered a stroke.”
“And Dr. Royce is conveniently on leave,” Rainier says with a sigh.
He looks at me.
“Dr. Smithson, do you think you can close for me?”
My eyebrows arch. “What?”
This must be some sort of trick. Yes, I know the patient is out of danger and this is supposed to be the easy part. Still, he’s practically leaving a patient in my hands even though he and I have barely done any surgeries together. Is he expecting me to fail? Is this his way of punishing me for ending things with him?
Rainier hands me his tools. “Finish the surgery for me. I know you can do it. I have to go back downstairs.”
I stare at the hole in the patient’s skull. “But…”
Rainier steps away from the table and takes off his gloves. I draw a deep breath and occupy the spot where he stood.
Okay. I guess I’ll just have to not fail.
“Dr. Smithson?”
I look at Rainier.
He gives me a smile. “I have faith in you.”
I nod.
“Oh, and try to find the girl’s parents when you’re done. They might be in the lobby.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
~
As soon as I’ve finished the surgery, I head to the lobby. Like the ER, it’s packed with people. Unlike the ER, though, the people here aren’t bleeding or unconscious. They’re the families, the friends of those in the ER. They may not be injured, but I can still feel their pain as they anxiously wait for news about their loved ones. They’re victims, too.
I borrow the microphone from the receptionist, who has her hands full trying to answer a hundred questions all at once. I hold it to my lips and clear my throat.
“Excuse me. Is anyone here looking for a daughter, about fifteen or sixteen years old?”
A few heads turn.
I hold up my phone, which has the picture I took of the patient after surgery.
“She was wearing a pink turtleneck, denim shorts, and stockings with rhinestones when she was brought in,” I go on. “She has red hair and braces.”
Heads shake. No one comes forward.
“Anyone?” I ask.
Finally, a woman who looks like she’s been crying comes forward.
“Is she dead?” she asks.
“No,” I answer. “Dr. Knight – ”
“Is anyone dead?” someone else asks.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have – ”
“What about my daughter? Have you seen her?”
“What about my son?”
I slip my phone back in my pocket. “I’m sorry I don’t have any more information I can give you, but I’m sure someone will give you an update shortly.”
“Shortly?” a man complains. “We’ve been waiting for hours.”
“I just want to know if my husband’s alive,” a woman says. “I sent him to the store to buy a scarf for my sister.”
“And my mother,” a younger woman speaks. “She went to buy another string of Christmas lights.”
I let out a sigh. “I wish I knew, but I – ”
The older woman wails. “He’s dead isn’t he? Rob’s dead. And it’s all my fault.”
Some of the other people in the room start sobbing as well. I purse my lips to suppress a frown.
“Shut up!” a man near the front door shouts. “No one’s dead!”
“You shut up!” another man replies. “You don’t know anything.”
“Neither do you.”
“Everyone, please calm down!” a member of security shouts as he stands on top of a chair. “Everyone in this hospital is doing everything they can to save the ones you love, so why don’t you just sit tight and let them do their jobs.”
