by Barbara Ebel
The door to one of the units was open, and she saw two men inside. She passed the vehicles and zigzagged between the furniture which had been placed outside. A stringy looking man wearing blue jeans lit up a cigarette in the doorway and saw her coming.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Can you tell me where the nearest veterinarian’s office is located?”
The worker uncrossed his legs and stared like he saw a mirage. After tilting his head backwards, he said, “Can’t help you, lady.”
Beyond him, his coworker sat on the floor against the wall. He raised his head, but lowered it again. Maybe they were taking a deserved break, she thought, but the man inside could use the bed situated behind him.
She quit trying to extract any information out of them and went over to her unit #1. After putting the dog down, she opened the door. Inside, she grabbed her purse and keys. When she was ready, she gently put the dog on the back seat of her car.
Viktoria drove a bit too quickly back to the coffee shop, raced inside, and spotted the double-braided young woman by the pick-up counter. She spoke softly to not draw attention.
“Linda, please tell me where the vet’s office is where you work. I have a taped-up dog that was discarded by some vile person. He’s in my car, and he needs help.”
Linda nodded. “Go past the hospital on Hospital Road. At the first intersection, make a right, and Masonville Animal Clinic is not even a mile down the road. The last doc usually hangs around with the latest appointments and sees to those hospitalized overnight, but you better hurry just in case.”
“Thanks,” Viktoria said, already turning around.
Viktoria’s heart bled when she checked on the dog again before starting her car. Now she felt like a part of his ongoing abuse because she hadn’t untaped him, but sometimes, she knew, you have to allow a wrong thing to continue before you can turn it around into the correct thing.
She found Masonville Animal Clinic with no problem and first checked that the front door was open. There were no customers in the waiting room but a woman was at the front desk.
“I have an emergency with a dog I just found,” she said. “Any vets still available to help out?”
“Dr. Price is here. Our after hours are beginning so you’ll qualify for an emergency visit, if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely.” Viktoria turned and came back in with her bundle.
“Oh brother,” the woman said, shaking her head. She picked up the intercom and called into the back. “Go in that first exam room,” she pointed.
Viktoria slipped into the room and placed the dog on the table while the back door opened and a man with gray hair and a limp ambled in. He previewed the dog and Viktoria with his eyes and then said, “You’re not a regular. I’m not as old a vet as you think. I’m just in need of a new hip but I’m putting it off as long as I can. Taking care of situations like this is the reason why.”
“I found him in a ditch. Taped and thrown to die. I’m a medical doctor and sure want a vet to humanely remove his duct tape, and give him a thorough evaluation.”
Dr. Price signaled her to place the dog on the scale. The numbers settled on thirty-eight pounds. While he drew up sedation in a syringe, Viktoria stroked the dog on the table. With the vet’s one intramuscular shot, he became sleepy and his whole body relaxed. With two instruments, and going slowly and gently, the vet and Viktoria first undid the tape on his mouth. Whiskers were pulled out and the foremost part of his mouth lost some skin and bled.
The two adults kept quiet and went to his back legs. The tape went around twice before getting to his paws. Again, he did his best to prevent any injury to the dog, but blood was already on the tape. With the tape off, he scrutinized his legs. The inside right leg had a five-inch gash, a straight slice, and open to tissue below.
“This’ll need stitches,” he said. He cleaned the area and reached in the back cabinet and pulled down a sterile surgical set. After donning sterile gloves, he laced in five stitches.
“Maybe the dog sliced his leg open and the owner didn’t want to mess with getting him stitches for whatever reason and decided to dump him. Or the owner or caretaker cut the dog themselves as part of their sadistic behavior before taping him up. Who knows? I can never figure this stuff out.”
“Only madmen or madwomen who deserve the same treatment do stuff like this. It’s all about wielding power over living things that can’t fight back. I shudder to think of the things you must see.”
“It’s routine. Two weeks ago, some couple was out hiking and found a plastic grocery bag tied to a tree. Had six newborn puppies in it. All left to die. Brought them in here. Thank God they kept one, but they brought the rest of them to the shelter. I heard they were all euthanized. Nobody adopted any of the puppies the size of your hand.”
“Don’t tell me anymore or I’ll be sick.”
“You have any dogs?”
“No. I’m a doctor who moves around to where I’m needed. Be difficult to keep a pet. But they’re no stranger to me. I grew up with animals all around me. Learned responsibility and how to be a caretaker all because of them.”
“I don’t want to date myself, but kids don’t learn that stuff anymore. All they know how to do is wiggle their fingers on electronic screens.
“With the dog, you have two choices,” he added. “Either he wears a cone on his head, so he can’t mess with the stitches or I can bandage it. I can give you extra gauze in case he pulls it off.”
“Wrap it and how about doing everything else? Shots appropriate for his age, any blood work you think is necessary?”
Dr. Price leaned against the counter. “Why? Are you going to keep him?”
“I guess I must. No sense in saving his life only to send him to that shelter where he’ll lose it for good.”
“You just made my day. No, made my week. You are my reward for hanging on and not getting my hip done and be absent on medical leave.”
“Dr. Price, better yet, you are the dog’s guardian angel.”
“No, you are.”
“That’s the nicest compliment I’ve had in no telling how long.”
“Your job is that underappreciated?”
She frowned and he nodded.
“What do you think he is? A border collie?”
“Oh yeah. No doubt as far as I’m concerned. They are extremely active. That might be another factor in why someone got fed up with him. They bit off more than they could chew. Also, these dogs are bright as hell. Probably a lot smarter than the ass hole who did this to him. Excuse my language. Since you’re a doctor too, I’ll speak my mind.”
Viktoria finally sat on the one chair in the room. She took a deep breath and let her muscles relax while Dr. Price did what was needed. The dog began to respond to their voices and his touch.
“Another thing,” Viktoria thought of. “Can you microchip him?”
“Sure thing,” he said with the biggest smile yet.
Slipping the chip into the dog’s neck was the last needed poke to make him snap out of his slumber. His legs kicked into gear and he stood wobbly on his feet. With Dr. Price’s okay, she placed him on the floor.
“Even being a dirty puppy,” she said, “you’re still beautiful.”
Dr. Price patted his head.
“How old do you think he is?” she asked.
“All his baby teeth are gone and those are all adult, permanent teeth. My estimate is about eight months old. For his stature, he’s behind on his weight a bit, so he has some catching up to do and then some further growing in the next few months.”
“God help us both,” she said. “I’ll grab the dog food you sell out in the waiting room, so I don’t have to go on a shopping expedition tonight.”
“We’ve got slip leashes too. That’ll hold you until you get to a pet store.”
Dr. Price opened the door and the puppy addled around the waiting room like he was drunk. The vet finished up the paperwork with the girl at the front desk.
Viktori
a swiped her credit card.
“Bring him back in seven to ten days and I’ll remove the sutures,” Dr. Price said as the girl stapled all the papers together.
Viktoria slipped the leash over the dog’s head. “See you then.”
The woman handed her the papers. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No.”
“Are you from another country?”
“Pretty much, but everyone is from somewhere.”
Dr. Price stood behind the woman’s chair. “What are you going to name him?”
“Don’t have a clue. Thanks, doc.”
Outside, she lifted the big pup into her car where he curled up and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 5
More cars were parked at the hotel when Viktoria drove back. It was dark but well lit in front of her door. She first bused the dog supplies inside along with the chicken sandwich and drink she purchased at a fast food drive-thru. There had been no time to pick up the basic groceries she routinely stocked up on, so she scoffed at the otherwise empty counter.
Exiting her room, the door opened to the unit next to her and a man began unpacking his car trunk. They nodded at each other and Viktoria lifted the dog out from the back seat.
“Hope he’s not a barker and keeps me up tonight,” the man scowled.
“I wish the same thing for myself.” She slipped on the leash, and walked the dog beside the sidewalk.
The man glared as she left. “Some people,” he mumbled.
She walked to the corner. The doors to the last building were all closed and the workers and their vehicles had left. After turning around, the puppy did his business, and she didn’t want to stir him up anymore. After his traumatic and frightening day, she wanted nothing more for the dog to be hugged and petted and have a full, comfortable night’s sleep.
Inside, she offered him a small bowl of food, put down water, and opened her own dinner. He came straight to her feet and laid down. His eyes closed and when she was finished eating, she stepped over him and got ready for bed.
Making sure to add extra time before her early wake up time, she set her phone alarm. She slipped under the bed covers, and opened her phone again. One text had come in a few hours ago from her husband.
“New hospital first day over? How’d it go?”
“The usual, but got myself a dog.” Her eyes wandered over to the border collie—the picture of innocence and beauty. A smile grew on her lips as she realized that someday the dog may qualify as her best buddy.
She typed another line. “I’m naming him ‘Buddy.’”
She did not expect to hear back from him, so she placed the phone on the adjacent nightstand and faded off to sleep.
-----
An old rock song woke Viktoria up. She was on her side with an arm draped around a pillow, and opened her eyes. Two dark eyes surrounded by black fur stared in front of her. Above them, on either side, two silvery colored clumps of hair poked straight out from his head like antennae. And down the center of his face and wrapped around his muzzle, his hair was pure white like fresh snow. His jet-black nose inched forward as if testing the scent from the bed.
“Hello there, Buddy. That’s your new name. I’m popping up right now to walk you.” She kept the rest of her thoughts to herself, especially one that worried her. At eight months old, he should be physically capable of being housetrained, but what if he wasn’t? That would throw a wrench in her return every day. House training, if needed, would be difficult as well since she would not be at her Stay Long Hotel suite most of the day.
She dressed into wrinkle-free tan slacks, a cream-colored scooped neck top, and slip-on shoes. It was early enough that the air outside was cool and refreshing, reminding her that Fall weather was around the bend. She walked the collie for ten minutes and shuttled him back to the room. While he gobbled up dog food, she inspected his back-leg bandage, which seemed fine.
Viktoria checked her phone. No messages. She scoured the entire room for anything important that may grab a puppy’s attention. Maybe it was all up for grabs, and she made a mental note to buy the dog toys and things to chew on. The room could be a disaster upon her return later in the day. She crouched down and gave the dog a solid hug and a kiss.
“Buddy, please be a good dog and keep us both from getting into trouble with the hotel manager.”
She clicked the door shut. The coffee shop stop was as important as the dog’s prior walk and, without time to spare, she pulled through the drive-thru line and placed her order. With a dark roast in hand, she kept time and entered Masonville General Hospital for her second day.
-----
Viktoria changed into blue scrubs and stashed her clothes and purse in a locker. The benches in the two aisles were cluttered with clothing and other women who had nothing to say to her.
The tempo of the OR was in full swing when Viktoria emerged. She grabbed a paper schedule, and stopped at the board. Jay Huff was not standing guard over it, but another anesthesiologist with glasses as thick as pancakes.
The stocky, round MD turned toward her. “I saw you yesterday. You must be Dr. Thorsdottir. I’m Phillip Nettle.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“If you need help with anything, just holler. You’re in Room 7 by yourself again; first case is a vascular procedure, a fem pop bypass graft. Who knows? One of these days, we may let you supervise CRNAs.”
Viktoria shrugged. She didn’t care one way or the other and either way carried its own set of benefits. If they thought they were giving her the short end of the stick by stashing her away in a room for most of the time, they were mistaken. She went into anesthesia because she picked it out from every other specialty and sub-specialty available. Sometimes she wondered if some anesthesiologists had forgotten that it’s called the “practice of anesthesia,” which included doing your own cases or supervising and medically directing nurse anesthetists.
Doing anesthesia ranged from sitting through an uncomplicated case while managing a patient’s medical problems and delivering a safe and effective anesthetic, all the way through to the hair-raising, acute life-threatening emergencies when every medical, surgical, and resuscitation skill came into play … all the while using the tremendous knowledge of anesthetic drugs and pharmacology that a doctor had been taught.
Viktoria first set up her room, checked out the narcotics and anxiolytics from the drug dispenser machine, and then went to see her patient, Mr. Quinn, a sixty-five-year-old man nervously jerking his legs around under the sheet.
His wife poked at his arm. “Can you quit acting like the stretcher has bed bugs?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Viktoria said. “I’m the anesthesiologist and I’ll be taking care of Mr. Quinn today.”
Mr. Quinn forced a smile and, after answering all her questions, mentioned the most important thing on his mind. “I’m waiting for you to stick something into my IV, so I don’t change my mind about surgery and get up and leave.”
She reached into her pocket and whipped out a labeled syringe. “No real second thoughts?”
“No, please. Let’s get this over with.”
After drawing it up, Viktoria slowly injected two ccs of midazolam and stopped with that. As she walked away, she considered the case. Besides his significant peripheral vascular disease, Mr. Quinn was a smoker and a drinker and on pain medication at home. She had checked out a two-cc vial of fentanyl, but now went back to the machine and ordered another two ccs.
Viktoria stood ready when the door opened and Mr. Quinn was wheeled into the OR. His wiggling had stopped, and he vaguely paid attention to being hoisted over to the table. The vascular surgeon followed and nodded at her while she prepared the patient for his anesthesia.
“Good night, Mr. Quinn,” she said after the induction dose of propofol raced into his vein.
“Hi, I’m Tom Parker,” the surgeon said. He spoke with a northern accent and retied the back of his OR mask.
“Viktoria Thorsdottir.” She f
ocused on the patient and smoothly intubated him and secured his tube. With a polite gesture, Dr. Parker handed her the used endotracheal tube wrapper for the garbage.
In the room was the same OR nurse and tech as yesterday and Viktoria hoped she’d learn more about Masonville by listening to their conversations. After all, the franchise coffee shop had already proved useful.
She logged all the details into her iPad since the patient rolled into the room, and she lingered over the cart to tidy up her syringes. The assortment of drugs was either needed for the case or ready in case a hemodynamic need arose.
In addition, she had used only one cc of narcotic on the patient during induction and, so far, had not needed the other cc. Instead of leaving the other fentanyl vial in plain sight like yesterday, she stuck it in the second drawer with other drugs. If the need arose, she wanted to be the one to crack it open and not someone giving her a break.
Viktoria swung around and peered over the drapes. Dr. Parker streamed his own music choice from a personal device he left on the shelf but seemed oblivious to the beat, whereas Alice Coleman and the tech occasionally took a stab at bobbing their heads.
“You buy them anything yet?” the tech asked Alice.
“She put up a wish list on some online wedding registry, but I’m skipping that. The two of them have damn near everything a person or a couple could want. I’m giving them a card and a check. What about you?”
“Had a formal China dinner plate shipped to them from the set she listed online.”
“Maybe you got off cheaper than me.”
“Doesn’t matter. You know the reception will be the best damn party in Masonville.”
“What are you two talking about?” Tom asked.
The tech plucked a pair of scissors from the instrument set and handed it to him. “Are you living under a mattress in a call room?”
“Like Dr. Winter?!” Alice asked and laughed.
“People are starting to notice him, huh?” the surgeon said.