Bad Boys Rule

by Naughty Aphrodite

  “A resident doctor? Are you joking?”

  He shook his head. “We need more doctors,” he said.

  “But I’m not a doctor.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he said, and she stared at him.

  “Do you accept?”

  “Of course I do not! Are you setting me up to kill someone?”

  “Okay then,” he said.

  “What do you mean by okay?”

  “You have to figure out some other way to pay for your bill as that is the only job available to you.”

  She was astounded. “What kind of hospital do you run? How can someone be put in such a position without proof of capability?”

  He had the audacity to smile, as though he had just recalled a private joke in his head. “That’s one of the perks of working in such a small hospital,” he said, the bureaucracy rampant in bigger ones are non-existent here. Did you take any medicine today?”

  “Yes, I did,” she answered absentmindedly. “Are you serious about this or are you just toying with me?”

  He ignored her question, but she was too distracted to notice. “Which ones did you take?” he asked.

  She informed him, but then lifted her gaze to his when she saw that he had suddenly gone quiet. “How did you know to take those drugs?” he asked. She opened her mouth to respond but no words came to her.

  “I guess I just know,” she eventually responded. “My mother used to be a nurse.”

  “That’s a lie,” he said.

  “Why would I lie to you?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Yet.”

  “I do not accept your offer,” she said.

  “Then be prepared to pay every dime you owe.”

  Joan felt tears fill her eyes, but she lowered her head to hide them from view. “You’ll be given a supervisor for a few weeks,” he said. “And if by then your expertise is proven, you can stay on for as long as you like. And if not, I’ll let you go.

  She perked up at the clause. “You’ll let me go?”

  “Was that all you heard?” he sounded amused.

  “Will you let me go if I’m not up to standard?”

  “I will,” he said and she brought out her hand for a handshake agreement. “I’ll do as you say.”

  Chapter 10

  From his peripheral vision, Caleb watched as Joan adjusted and readjusted the collars of her white coat.

  It had been three full weeks since her surgery, and he was quite confident of her physical state, however, she seemed so nervous and it worried him that perhaps he was making a mistake. Regardless, he refused to change his mind.

  When they arrived at the ER, he called together all the present nurses and residents. She stood behind him just as he was about to begin speaking, but when he noticed it, he stepped to the side and gave her a stern look. She raised her head then and plastered a smile on her face for the world.

  “This is Doctor Joan Kim,” he said, and looks of astonishment reverberated throughout the room.

  He stated Aisha’s medical qualifications, right from the schools she attended to the experience she had gained over the years. When he was done, the whole room had their eyes on her but Joan didn’t even notice. She had widened her gaze on him. He turned around to leave and she went after him.

  “Dr. Pace, Dr. Pace!”

  He didn’t stop, so she grabbed his arm and jerked him around. Caleb gazed calmly down at his wrinkled coat and reached out to straighten it before turning his gaze to her.

  “What is the matter?”

  “How could you introduce me that way?” she asked. “Are you trying to turn me into a fraud?”

  He stared into her eyes, his heart aching so much for both himself and her, but none of this he could show. What was the truth? Was she truly pretending or had she really forgotten it all? Was he even doing the right thing by forcing all of this on her? What was he to do?

  Without a thought, he lifted his hands to her face but at his touch, she flinched and took a step back.

  “Where is the supervisor you promised me?”

  “He’ll be watching you,” was all he said.

  Her voice went up a notch. “When do I meet him?”

  Caleb opened his mouth to respond, but then sirens and screech of an ambulance drew their attention towards the entrance doors. Three nurses came running out of the ER to meet the ambulance, and soon a gurney was rolling in a patient.

  “Dr. Caleb,” the Head Nurse hurried up to him. “The patient has a hemorrhage from a ruptured spleen.”

  “His vitals?” he asked.

  “Blood pressure is 70/40, and heart rate is 140.”

  He turned his gaze to Joan. “Congratulations Dr. Graves, you’ve just received your first patient.”

  “What?”

  Caleb turned around and began to walk away. “Dr. Pace!”

  He could hear the despair in her voice, but he refused to turn back. It was only after he heard her footsteps run into the ER that he turned around and saw the Head Nurse watching him.

  He spoke to her with his eyes and she nodded, before hurrying into the ER.

  Call me the instant she is unable to handle it.

  Chapter 11

  Joan headed over to the man with an ultrasound machine at hand, and almost collapsed upon his examination. He truly had a fatal hemorrhage from a ruptured spleen. Cursing Dr. Pace and everything he was in her mind, she tried her best to remain calm and called over one of the residents.

  “You need to drain out the blood in his abdomen,” she said to him. “Can you handle that?”

  “I can,”

  “Alright, I’m going to focus on doing a ligation to stop the hemorrhaging. I need to find the tear or else he’ll bleed to death in five minutes.”

  “Shouldn’t we move him to the OR first? It’s a very bad call to open his abdomen here, it’s not a sterile environment.”

  “Let’s move him to the Hybrid Room then, he won’t make it if we have to go all the way to the OR.”

  “His vitals are dropping!” the nurse by her side said, and Joan stopped in her tracks. She fisted her hands in despair and said with a shaky voice. “Somebody please get me Doctor Pace, I can’t do this alone.”

  A nurse ran off to do as she’d asked while she stared at the neck brace around the patient’s neck confused as to what to do.

  “Dr. Graves!” the Head Nurse called and she snapped back into action.

  “Um... uh,” she took the stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his breathing. “His lung sound is weakening. Give him uh… 10 liters of oxygen and uh… get- get an IV and hydrate him.”

  “Got it!”

  “BP is at 60/40, heart rate is 128,” the announcement came.

  “Hook him up to a ventilator, I need to perform an intubation. Get me a bowl of water to wash my hands,” she called out as she worked. “And some gloves, and a surgical robe.”

  “Are you really going to cut open his abdomen here?” the resident asked, horrified, and she snapped at him. “What else do you want me to do? Let him die by moving him around? Stop talking to me! Have you gotten the blood out?”

  Confused at the order not to talk to her, he answered either way. “I just inserted the trocar,” he said.

  After she was done, she hurried away to wash her hands and began to put on her gloves. “Put the ventilator on CMV mode, and get a propofol continuous infusion in him,” she said as she struggled with her gloves. “Also some rocuronium.”

  When she was done, she came back over and asked. “How much blood have you extracted?”

  “About 400 cc’s, and more is still coming out.”

  “Scalpel,” she said, and the moment she received the blade, she held it over his lower abdomen. Her hands were shaking. Someone came over then to wipe the sweat from her brow, just as the tears gathered in her eyes. It had been four years since she had even come close to such a situation, how could he thrust
something so complicated upon her? She was going to kill this man!

  “Where the hell is Caleb?” she yelled, and the nurse came running back. “Dr. Pace is on an important phone call,” she said. “He said to tell you that he will be here when he is done.

  Joan could not believe her ears.

  “Bastard!” she cursed and tried her best to focus. She took deep breaths and then made the slit down his lower abdomen.

  “Suction,” she called and was handed over the gauze. She cut a wider opening and then praying to God, slipped her hands inside and began to search for the torn blood vessel.”

  “His vitals are dropping,” announced the nurse in panic and Joan wanted to slap her silly.

  Eventually, she found the vessel, and let out a cry of relief.

  “Hemostat,” she called, barely able to speak, and it was handed over to her. She clamped it and then tilted the handle to a nurse. “Hold onto this,” she said.

  “Um… s-string. Number 2- no! 3.”

  It was handed over to her and with it, she was able to slowly repair the tear. When she was done, she stumbled backward in exhaustion but one of the male nurses lent her support and uprighted her.

  “Cover it with film, and send him to one of the attendants in the OR for a splenorrhagia surgery.”

  “Yes, doctor,” came the reply, and she walked away in a daze. Tearing off her gloves, she headed out of the ER, full of disbelief at what she had just been through. What if she hadn’t recalled anything and had completely lost her skills?

  If she had been told to imagine the worst case that could possibly have been thrust upon her after a four-year hiatus, this would not have even crossed her mind. Nobody could be cruel enough to do that to her, not even the heavens. But Caleb had. He was a bloody bastard. That man could have died right in front of her very eyes!

  He had tossed her into an ocean of sharks and then left to sit in his office. She couldn’t believe it. The tears rolled down her face as she trembled from the stressful experience. She arrived in front of Caleb’s office and without even bothering to knock, pushed it open and went in to see that he was still on the call. At her expression, he ended it and rose to his feet.

  “Aisha?” he called.

  “How could you?” she cried.

  “You did well,” he said. “That was an extremely difficult call, and you made the right choice.”

  “Caleb!” she yelled, her eyes strained and reddened from the ordeal, and he couldn’t say a word. She pulled off her robe as though it was burning her and flung it at him. Then she picked up the books by the coffee table and aimed them at his head in fury but he was able to avoid them. They hit the wall and fell to the ground, and so did she. She collapsed onto her knees, and when he came around to help her up, she violently pushed his hands away.

  He sat down quietly on the floor by her and watched her as she gazed into thin air. The rage in her had been spent, and minutes later, all she could feel was a bitter cold that coursed through her veins. She held up her hand in a fist and began to hit his chest with slow, agonized blows. “Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered. “Why?”

  He let her hit him until she grew weary and soon she found herself in his arms. Her head was against his chest, and he had his arms tightly around her.

  The door suddenly opened but she did not know who came in. It was thereafter shut and soon they were left alone once more. She would never know how much time passed. When she finally began to rise, he helped her up, and when she turned around to leave, she told him not to follow her.

  She knew that he would respect her wishes, so she left and headed over to her office.

  Chapter 11

  Joan headed over to the man with an ultrasound machine at hand, and almost collapsed upon his examination. He truly had a fatal hemorrhage from a ruptured spleen. Cursing Dr. Pace and everything he was in her mind, she tried her best to remain calm and called over one of the residents.

  “You need to drain out the blood in his abdomen,” she said to him. “Can you handle that?”

  “I can,”

  “Alright, I’m going to focus on doing a ligation to stop the hemorrhaging. I need to find the tear or else he’ll bleed to death in five minutes.”

  “Shouldn’t we move him to the OR first? It’s a very bad call to open his abdomen here, it’s not a sterile environment.”

  “Let’s move him to the Hybrid Room then, he won’t make it if we have to go all the way to the OR.”

  “His vitals are dropping!” the nurse by her side said, and Joan stopped in her tracks. She fisted her hands in despair and said with a shaky voice. “Somebody please get me Doctor Pace, I can’t do this alone.”

  A nurse ran off to do as she’d asked while she stared at the neck brace around the patient’s neck confused as to what to do.

  “Dr. Graves!” the Head Nurse called and she snapped back into action.

  “Um... uh,” she took the stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his breathing. “His lung sound is weakening. Give him uh… 10 liters of oxygen and uh… get- get an IV and hydrate him.”

  “Got it!”

  “BP is at 60/40, heart rate is 128,” the announcement came.

  “Hook him up to a ventilator, I need to perform an intubation. Get me a bowl of water to wash my hands,” she called out as she worked. “And some gloves, and a surgical robe.”

  “Are you really going to cut open his abdomen here?” the resident asked, horrified, and she snapped at him. “What else do you want me to do? Let him die by moving him around? Stop talking to me! Have you gotten the blood out?”

  Confused at the order not to talk to her, he answered either way. “I just inserted the trocar,” he said.

  After she was done, she hurried away to wash her hands and began to put on her gloves. “Put the ventilator on CMV mode, and get a propofol continuous infusion in him,” she said as she struggled with her gloves. “Also some rocuronium.”

  When she was done, she came back over and asked. “How much blood have you extracted?”

  “About 400 cc’s, and more is still coming out.”

  “Scalpel,” she said, and the moment she received the blade, she held it over his lower abdomen. Her hands were shaking. Someone came over then to wipe the sweat from her brow, just as the tears gathered in her eyes. It had been four years since she had even come close to such a situation, how could he thrust something so complicated upon her? She was going to kill this man!

  “Where the hell is Caleb?” she yelled, and the nurse came running back. “Dr. Pace is on an important phone call,” she said. “He said to tell you that he will be here when he is done.

  Joan could not believe her ears.

  “Bastard!” she cursed and tried her best to focus. She took deep breaths and then made the slit down his lower abdomen.

  “Suction,” she called and was handed over the gauze. She cut a wider opening and then praying to God, slipped her hands inside and began to search for the torn blood vessel.”

  “His vitals are dropping,” announced the nurse in panic and Joan wanted to slap her silly.

  Eventually, she found the vessel, and let out a cry of relief.

  “Hemostat,” she called, barely able to speak, and it was handed over to her. She clamped it and then tilted the handle to a nurse. “Hold onto this,” she said.

  “Um… s-string. Number 2- no! 3.”

  It was handed over to her and with it, she was able to slowly repair the tear. When she was done, she stumbled backward in exhaustion but one of the male nurses lent her support and uprighted her.

  “Cover it with film, and send him to one of the attendants in the OR for a splenorrhagia surgery.”

  “Yes, doctor,” came the reply, and she walked away in a daze. Tearing off her gloves, she headed out of the ER, full of disbelief at what she had just been through. What if she hadn’t recalled anything and had completely lost her skills?

&nbs
p; If she had been told to imagine the worst case that could possibly have been thrust upon her after a four-year hiatus, this would not have even crossed her mind. Nobody could be cruel enough to do that to her, not even the heavens. But Caleb had. He was a bloody bastard. That man could have died right in front of her very eyes!

  He had tossed her into an ocean of sharks and then left to sit in his office. She couldn’t believe it. The tears rolled down her face as she trembled from the stressful experience. She arrived in front of Caleb’s office and without even bothering to knock, pushed it open and went in to see that he was still on the call. At her expression, he ended it and rose to his feet.