“Okay, Mom, I have to go now. I still have some studying to do and try catching up on my sleep.”
“What do you mean ‘studying’, aren’t you done with all that already?”
“No, Mom, I’m not done with all that, as you said. I’ve got my formal qualifications, yes, but now I’ve got to acquire experience before I’ll be “done with all that”.”
“Alright then. I better leave you to it. Take care, will you?”
“Always will, Mom, you know it.”
After only six hours of sleep that night, I got up at five to get ready for another day of neuro-surgery. We were going to attend a brain operating procedure that morning. Although still tired, I was looking forward to it. Even though my career path would probably never take me as far as neuro-surgery, I needed to see Dr. Slosberg in action.
The young lady suffered from intracranial aneurysm, which, in simple terms, is a ballooning of a blood vessel inside the cerebral cavity. This is one dangerous balloon. It will kill the patient instantly if the “bubble bursts” unexpectedly. Once located, the ballooning vessel has to be drained and cauterized. It’s a simple operation if the blood vessel is readily accessible. If not, the opening of the skull itself could burst the vessel. Therefore, the surgeon has to be as “sober as a judge” and have the steadiest hands when he is ready to perform the procedure. Any mistake on his part will spell the death of his patient.
We all knew what was at stake in this case and we were as quiet as could be when we filed into the theater. We had to stand at the back of the operating table in this case. Because of the location of the blood vessel, the patient had to be awake while Dr. Slosberg repaired the damage.
I will not go into details. Suffice to say, however, the patient being awake during the entire procedure was difficult for me to reconcile with the “normal” circumstances surrounding an operation. Nevertheless, in the end, the whole thing added up to a memorable experience.
Chapter 12
That night, Tiffany decided to have dinner with her parents and I was pleased to be walking home alone. The night air was just what I needed to wake me up. As I came out of the hospital, there he was, arms crossed over his chest. Great, I thought, that’s all I need. After a twelve-hour shift, I don’t need another battle with him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
“Just waiting for you.”
“What for?” I flared, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of me. “I told you the other day that if I changed my mind you’ll be the first to know. Unfortunately, I have not changed my mind–not yet anyway.”
“So, what’s stopping you?” Thank goodness it was dark outside for he wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’ve never hurt you, have I?”
“No, you haven’t, you’re right,” I said, pushing away from his embrace and starting to walk toward the corner of the street.
“So, I ask again, what’s stopping you?” He was now walking beside me, his hands in his jeans pockets.
“It’s just that I don’t want to have a relationship with you, not now, and maybe never. That’s all.”
“Okay, what about being friends? Are you against that too?”
I turned my head to look into his face. “Of course not. But friendship doesn’t seem to be enough for you. You want more and I don’t.”
“How about we go for a drive together, just as friends? What do you say?”
“Right now?”
“There’s no time like the present, is there?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Since I know that you don’t like surprises, I’ll tell you: I’m going to take you to the best ice cream parlor in the whole of D.C., and then I’ll take you to watch the White House illuminations.” He had me and he knew it.
“Okay, I’m game, as long as you promise me that we’re going as friends.”
“Alright, as friends it is.”
When we got to his car, which was parked nearby, I couldn’t help but inhale a sigh. Of course, it had to be a red sports’ car, didn’t it? This one was a gorgeous Lexus convertible. It looked brand new. I knew surgeons made good money, but this car was worth more than a year’s salary in my opinion. He saw my eyes being riveted on the vehicle.
“A beauty, isn’t she?” he asked, opening the passenger door for me.
“That she is. Truly a wonderful car,” I said, sliding into the leather seat. No doubt about it I was impressed. However, flaunting one’s possessions at the face of someone who wouldn’t dare spare a cent for a new pair of shoes–someone like me–didn’t sit right with me. Never has. “But why spending so much money on a car; that’s what I often don’t understand,” I remarked as he slid behind the wheel and turned on the ignition.
“What else would you spend it on?” he asked, pulling the car away from the curb.
“A house would be my first choice,” I replied. “And maybe travel abroad as often as I could, I suppose. But a car is truly at the bottom of my list since I would only use it on the weekend and perhaps traveling to a nearby holiday resort once a year.”
He chuckled. “Yes. That’s usually a woman’s reaction to a guy spending ‘that much money’, as you said, on a car. It’s a guy thing. But it’s also a question of being able to afford such an expensive item. You see, we work hard; our days are filled with the most horrid pictures of human suffering we could ever imagine; so, in the evening, when we’re spent, we’re exhausted from it all, it’s a treat to be sitting at the wheel of this car.”
“I have to agree with you–partly.” He turned his head to me briefly. I knew he liked people to agree with him all the time. “But, for me, the treat at the end of a hard day is not sitting at the wheel of an expensive car, it’s walking home quietly and maybe stopping at my favorite restaurant or bar; have a nice meal prepared by someone other than myself and relax while reading the paper.”
He smiled as we stopped at a red light. He slipped his left arm across the back of my seat.
“You know opposites attract, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But what does it have to do with you having a car and me having a meal at my favorite restaurant?”
“It has everything to do with it. We are opposites. I love this car; you love good dining. We could have both. If you would only agree to…”
“…to be more than a friend, you mean?” I knew the nagging was coming. I also knew that I was the one who accepted to take a ride with him.
He turned to me again and withdrew his arm from around my shoulders.
“Sorry. I promised to take you out this evening ‘as friends’, so I’ll respect the boundaries you’ve put between us, and take you for that ice cream “as friends”.”
“Thank you. Yet, I don’t want you to do this just because I put ‘being friends only’ as a condition. I would very much like you to understand where I’m coming from. I cannot risk my career, Jeff. I am attracted to you–of course I am–but you and I having more than a friendship is out of the question. I’ve got to keep my mind on the job. For me, making a mistake in the operating theater would be disastrous. It’s different for you. You’ve got years of experience and you can split yourself and your mind in two, it seems. One of you is all business in the theater, and the other you is all free and happy.”
“You cannot divorce yourself from your work, is that what you’re telling me?”
“I know I express myself badly sometimes, but yes, that’s what I mean. For the moment, every night, I have to go over my notes. I am still in studying mode. I am still learning. I’m still deadly afraid of making a mistake. Call it insecure if you like, but that’s the way it is–for the time being anyway.”
“Been there, done that, Heather. I know exactly how you feel. And believe it or not, I’m still afraid of making mistakes. That’s why we’re insured. Even you, as an intern, you are covered by third-party insurance, much like this car. Because we make mistakes. But you shouldn’t let fear gear your li
fe.”
“I know, but I can’t ignore what’s expected of me either, now can I?”
“No one is asking you to do that. You need to relax, though, otherwise, I can assure you, the mistake you fear the most will occur – no matter how much studying you do.”
We reached the ice cream parlor just then. The establishment was designed to draw you back to the 1950s I was sure. It reminded me of the coffee shop where The Fonz and his buddies used to meet. I never really watched the show–I wasn’t even born when it was first aired–but I watched re-runs with my mom when I was a kid. The colorful tables, chairs, the counter, the neon lights over the blackboard menu and the ice-cream machines seemed all to have come out of the past.
I was all smiles. I was a kid again.
“Which flavor would you like?” Jeff asked me.
I turned to him after looking at all the buckets lined up under the glass display. “I think chocolate and strawberry will do just fine. Thanks.”
“Wow, that’s not really adventurous, is it? How about another two flavors to make things interesting?”
“Okay. Maybe pistachio and Oreo cookies. Is that adventurous enough for you?”
He laughed. “Yes, I think for a trial run it will do.” He draped his arm across my shoulder and drew me close to him. The gesture sent sparks all the way down my spine. His touch was like someone touching me with a live wire. I still couldn’t believe the effect he had on me.
When we were served two enormous bowls of ice cream, we sat at one of the tables by the windows. There wasn’t much to see outside, but the atmosphere inside the parlor was pleasant and relaxing. Some of the other patrons put a quarter in the table jukebox and suddenly we had Elvis Presley playing some of the very, very old favorites. Stepping into the past like that was most refreshing, I had to admit. It seemed to draw you out of the day’s routine and drop you into a living dream.
Jeff was sitting beside me and, of course, one of his hands found its way to my thigh under the table. I had to giggle. He was stubborn and I knew it. What else should I have expected from him? Flirting, I supposed, was okay. Friends do flirt with one another, don’t they? Yes, make excuses for him, why don’t you? I scolded myself while listening to Elvis and eating my ice cream.
The smile that was painted on my face ever since we came in the parlor was not to be erased any time soon. I was enjoying the interlude into the past. As long as it wouldn’t lead to anything else, I was okay–for now.
We chatted about my two days under Slosberg tutelage and how fearful I would be were I to become a neuro-surgeon. Jeff, for his part, listened attentively to what I was saying and seemed genuinely interested in my remarks.
“It scares me just to think of having a knife anywhere close to a brain.”
“There’s that word again: ‘scared’,” Jeff said. “The minute you will take it out of your vocabulary, along with the word ‘fear’, is the minute you will become the surgeon you deserve to be.” He took my hand in both of his. “You need to listen to me, Heather. Surgery is not all about books and studying. If you prefer that sort of thing, you should go into research, not practice. It took me several months to get myself in gear. Like you, I was afraid to touch a scalpel. The minute I would, I feared that my hands would shake and I would throw my entire medicine career out the window.”
“You surprise me. I thought you were sure of yourself.”
“Today I am, Heather, but it wasn’t always that way. Even Slosberg must have had fear on the mind when he started. We all do. Yet, once you get over the fear of being scared, you’ll be fine.”
“I am just scared, Jeff. And I don’t know how I am going to cope.”
“Okay, let say this. We are friends, yes?” He peered into my eyes, still holding my hand. I nodded emphatically. “Well then, once we’re working together, one-on-one, I’ll put the scalpel into your hand and guide it through the first cut. After that, it will be like riding a bicycle, you’ll never forget it.”
“Okay, you’ve got a deal.”
As soon as we finished our ice cream, he took my hand again and led me out of the parlor. We got back into his car and started toward Capitol Hill. The night was truly warm. I felt great, truth be told. Jeff had managed to restore some of my self-assurance, which, I must admit, I had lost since watching all of these intricate procedures for the past two weeks.
He had his arm across the back of my seat again. But, this time, I didn’t mind. We had talked and shared an hour or so, just as old friends would. He was flirting with me, yes, but somehow it felt different.
As soon as we arrived in front of the White House, I let a gasp escape from my mouth. I had seen a great many photographs of the beautiful building, but seeing it in all of its imposing grandeur was even more impressive than I ever imagined. The lights that illuminated the dome and the many trees along the parade were mesmerizing.
“Is this what you expected?” Jeff asked as we parked the car along the avenue bordering and slicing the lawn leading to the obelisk.
“Much more than anything I’ve ever imagined, Jeff. Thanks for bringing me here. It’s simply beautiful.”
“I’ve been here many times, but every time, I find it even more wonderful than the last. It’s not only impressive but it does say something about the strength of our country, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does do that,” I replied, still looking around me.
And that’s when he took my chin into his hand, turned my face to him and brushed his lips against mine. He was asking for a kiss. I didn’t want to give it to him. He was going over the limit we had agreed upon. This was not friendship; this was sexual, and highly tempting too.
It didn’t take me but a few seconds to fall into his spell. I was burning with desire and so was he. But I couldn’t allow myself to fall into that trap again. I would be a wreck for accepting his advances. I knew all too well how I would react. I would have Jeff on the mind day and night. And that was not on!
His hand was traveling under my skirt now and reaching my panties. His caresses were absolutely irresistible. I wasn’t stopping him. I loved his touch. His lips against my skin in the cleavage of my open shirt, going down to my breasts; it was delightful. God, I love it. Please, let me stop him. I’ve got to stop him….
And stop him I did. I raised his head gently and looked into his eyes.
“Please, Jeff, let’s leave it for tonight, okay?”
He smiled, straightened up and returned into his seat. “You know, I want you again, don’t you?”
“I know, and I don’t know if you noticed but I hardly stopped you, did I? Although this was to be a ‘friendship only’ night, wasn’t it.”
“Yes on both counts. And I also noticed that you returned my kiss. I loved it, Heather. Thank you.”
“But now I think it’s time for us to go home. It’s nearly midnight.”
“You’re right. I’ve got a six a.m. procedure, too,” he agreed, turning on the ignition.
When we got to my place, he was surprised that I lived so close to the hospital.
“Why so close?” he asked.
“I told you; I like to walk home of an evening. Besides, my roommate has a car.”
“You have a roommate?” He truly looked puzzled then.
“Yeah. Money is tight, so I need to share the expenses with someone. But she is from here, D.C. I mean, and she’s an intern too. So, it’s going to work out just fine, I think.”
He fell silent for a moment and then smiled, as he turned to me. “Okay, my scared puppy, you go home and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, or whenever they agree for us to be in the same room together. Alright?”
I returned the smile and relaxed. I was home, and he was going. I gave him a peck on the cheek and said, “Alright. And please don’t forget to guide my hand with the first cut, okay?”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Chapter 13
A couple of days later, the interns were assigned once again to work w
ith Dr. Jeff Aldridge. I had mixed feelings about it. I still wasn’t sure that I could resist his charm during working hours. I certainly didn’t want to become the butt of every intern’s joke.
Already, Tiffany had noticed my coming in late the night I went out with Jeff for an ice cream and began questioning me about it.
“So, how’s it going with Dr. Hottie?” she asked as we were having breakfast.
“It’s not going, Tiff,” I replied coldly. “We went for an ice cream at this fantastic parlor and then we went to see the lights at the White House. That’s all.”
“Oh yeah? An ice cream and a drive around the White House doesn’t take that long.”
“You sound like my father when I was first dating. Do you mind cutting that out?”
“Alright. I’m not going to say another word about Dr. Hottie, except for ‘be careful, Hattie’. There’s something about him that doesn’t ring true.”
“I hear you, Tiff. And that’s the very reason why nothing is going on between us. I am not that blind actually.”
So, I was very careful. I would only make sure he kept his promise about holding my hand for that first cut. However, that morning we were not cutting anyone open. We were going through pre-operative care with a fine-tooth comb as it were. To some, it might have sounded boring, but it’s essential for a patient to be prepped and ready mentally, emotionally, and physically for any surgical procedure. And so it is for the surgeon performing the operation. In many instances, the patient does not require to stay in the hospital before surgery, unless, of course, it is a case of the patient being under care already. Many patients are asked to spend a half a day at the hospital to receive their instructions as to what they should and should not do hours before the intervention. They also meet with their surgeon or his assistant and discuss the various facets of the operation itself.
As for the surgeons, they need to get and keep their bedside manners in check. These prep sessions give the patients opportunities to meet the surgeons who are going to take their lives into their hands. The patient may have met the surgeon prior to that time, but it’s during that prep session that it all happens–trust I mean. The patient needs to trust his or her surgeon implicitly. If that spark does not occur between them, you might as well pack your bag and let someone else do it. Reluctance is a real killer. It instills fear into the patient’s mind and it becomes very difficult for the surgeon to destroy that lack of trust.
Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) Page 9