The Doctor Who Has No Ambition (Soulless Book 9)

by Victoria Quinn

  Andrea came in and stepped aside so they could pass through. “Take a seat.”

  Mrs. Torres entered first, her eyes moving to Dex, filling with immediate gratitude. “It’s so nice to see you again, Dr. Hamilton.”

  Dex turned to them and rose to his feet as he approached them, his hand outstretched. With a very small smile that seemed forced, he shook her hand. “It’s nice to see you too, Mrs. Torres. Please call me Dex.”

  She smiled. “Then call me Angelica.”

  He nodded then turned to her husband and extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Her husband grabbed Dex’s hand and squeezed it for a long time, holding on to it like it was a lifeline, and he looked into Dex’s face like he didn’t know what to say, to express how thankful he was that Dex came out of retirement to see him.

  Dex was patient as he waited, giving Mr. Torres all the time he needed, as if he understood exactly how he felt.

  Mr. Torres finally dropped his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Hamilton. Thank you…thank you for seeing me. You have the hands of God and the heart of a saint, and we’re so thankful that you’re doing this. So grateful…because you’re my last hope.”

  It was hard to watch their interaction and not get caught up in it, to witness such a heartfelt conversation that was almost too raw to digest.

  Dex stared at him for a long time, as if he didn’t have a single clue what to say to that. “I’m going to do my best to take care of you, Mr. Torres.”

  “Marc,” he said quickly. “Call me Marc.”

  Dex gave a nod in understanding. “And call me Dex.”

  This guy had no ego at all, not when he preferred to be called by his first name and took no identity from his title. It was strange, to see someone who cared so much about healing people but didn’t necessarily want to be associated with that passion.

  They took their seats on the couch.

  Andrea brought the paperwork to Dex and laid it on the table in front of him.

  As if Angelica and Marc weren’t across from him, Dex grabbed the paperwork and examined it, taking his time as he looked at everything. With the EKG, he took his pencil and make a couple marks on it. He released a loud sigh, the kind that made his back and chest deflate toward his spine.

  Angelica glanced at her husband before she looked at Dex. “What is it?”

  Dex continued to stare at the paperwork before he finally set it down. His hands came together between his knees, and he stared down at the floor for a while. “We have even less time than we thought.”

  The meeting lasted for nearly an hour, and Dex discussed the full picture of Mr. Torres’s heart condition, how everything was affecting his bodily function as a whole, and exactly how he intended to fix it.

  Dex never interrupted his patients, never got annoyed with all the questions, and when they didn’t understand something, he was happy to repeat what he said, and if they still didn’t get it, he would explain it in a different way.

  He had more empathy and kindness than anyone I’d ever met.

  This guy was like the Pope or something.

  “So, what are his chances?” Angelica asked, a wet tissue balled into her hand.

  Dex rubbed his palms together slowly as he considered his response. “Less than 50%. There’s a lot that can go wrong when I get in there. I’ll be assisted by a pulmonary specialist as well, and I already have someone in mind for the position. I haven’t asked him yet, but he’ll say yes.”

  Angelica nodded slowly.

  Marc was eerily calm, even though he was the one with his life on the line. “And how much is all this going to cost?”

  Dex gave a slight shrug. “I can’t say with complete accuracy because the insurance companies have a lot of input when it comes to coverage, and even if your insurance says they’ll cover it, there’s a good chance they’ll find a good reason to only cover half or whatever bullshit. To be frank, your insurance isn’t that great, so you’re looking to pay for most of this out of pocket, which will come out to…at least five hundred thousand.”

  Angelica immediately inhaled a sharp breath at the number.

  Marc dropped his gaze in defeat.

  “If I donate my time, I can drop that number down significantly, but all the other costs are unavoidable. The nurses, the procedure center, drugs, et cetera. They’re unavoidable. But we can get the rest covered by my charity organization, so don’t worry about the cost.”

  Angelica stilled at Dex’s announcement, looking at him like she’d never really seen him before. “What?”

  “I don’t understand,” Marc whispered. “You would…do that?”

  Dex nodded. “Absolutely. No one should be denied the care they need because they can’t afford it.”

  Angelica turned to look at her husband and grabbed his hand on her thigh.

  He squeezed it before he looked at her.

  Dex dropped his gaze, as if to give them privacy.

  I sat there…on the verge of tears.

  Dex continued to look at the ground. “Don’t stress about the money. Focus on getting through this.” He lifted his chin and looked at them again.

  Angelica stared at him, her wet eyes heavy with tears. “You came out of retirement for us…and now you’re not even going to charge us? I just…I just don’t understand how that makes sense.”

  “I don’t either,” Marc said.

  Dex shrugged. “It’ll work out. I have a lot of sponsors that donate to my organization so I can provide care to those who can’t afford it. And most of my other clients are well-off, so they pay my full rate. It evens out.”

  He’d just restarted his business from the ground up, and while he had his parents for financial support at the moment, the money wasn’t important to him at all. Just getting Marc the care he needed was the only thing on Dex’s mind.

  Angelica and Marc looked at each other again, still in disbelief.

  “Well…thank you.” Angelica looked at Dex with watery eyes. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  Marc nodded.

  Dex massaged his fingertips as he absorbed their words. “I’m going to do my very best to take care of you, but you should know that just because I’m labeled as the best doesn’t guarantee success. Sometimes, there are things that occur beyond medicine…things I can’t control.” He lifted his gaze and looked at them again. “The reason I left medicine in the first place is because I lost a patient who meant a lot to me. It was a routine procedure, and his family asked me to do it because I’m the best. But I lost him on the table, and I still don’t know why. It still haunts me, still keeps me up at night. I’m a transparent person, so I want you to know the truth, and after a year-long hiatus, I’m not the same doctor I used to be. I’m not as confident. This procedure is a great weight on my shoulders because it’ll make or break me.”

  Angelica gave a slight nod. “Your father mentioned that when I came to him. But I have complete faith in you, Dex. Even if your confidence is compromised, if your skills are rusty after taking a year off, your heart is the same as it’s always been. You care about my husband deeply, care about your patients, and that’s something no one else has. That assuages my fears, because for better or worse, I’ll know that you did everything you possibly could to bring my husband back to me.”

  I walked them to the elevator at the end of the lobby. “I’ll be in touch to schedule the surgery, along with instructions for what needs to be done to prepare for the procedure. If you have any questions, feel free to email. I’m attached at the hip to my phone, so I can get you any information that you need at any time.”

  “Thank you.” Angelica gave me a weak smile, her eyes still wet after the long discussion. “I just can’t believe this is all real, that Dr. Hamilton is going to be taking care of my husband. I felt like a crazy person cornering his father like that, but I was desperate.”

  I gave a nod in understanding. “When it comes to the people we love, there’s no line we’re afrai
d to cross.”

  “I’m so glad his father talked him into returning to medicine. I know everything about him because of all the research I did, and even if he can’t save my husband, there are so many other people who need him.” She released a heavy sigh as her tears welled up more. “I’ve seen so many doctors, you don’t even know, and none of them give a damn. None of them listen. None of them are anywhere near Dex Hamilton.”

  Marc gently gripped her arm and directed her to the elevator doors after they opened. “I’m sure his assistant knows how brilliant he is, honey.” They got into the elevator together and then disappeared.

  I went back to the front desk and saw Andrea sitting there.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “Pretty good…I think.” I returned down the hallway to the corner office and saw Dex exactly where I left him.

  He sat on the couch and looked over the paperwork, the data he’d looked at dozens of times, the energy around him contemplative and quiet. When he heard me, his eyes lifted. Those brown eyes stared at me for a few seconds before he threw the papers back onto the pile.

  I sat on the couch across from him and gathered the paperwork to organize it and return it to the folder.

  Dex relaxed into the couch and looked out the window again.

  I stacked everything neatly before placing it in the folder. “Should I get the surgery on the schedule?”

  After a long pause of silence, he turned back to look at me, his brown eyes still hard, his jawline tight like he was in discomfort.

  I was afraid he might say no, that he might call off the whole thing.

  “Yes. We need to get him in within the week, so have the hospital prioritize it. And set me up on a call with Dr. Northridge because he’ll need to assist me with this surgery.”

  “Of course.” I was so happy that he’d decided to pursue this, that he’d become dedicated to Marc and Angelica rather than uncertain. “You were great today, just so you know.” It wasn’t my place to say anything like that because I didn’t know the medicine. I had no idea if his diagnosis or approach was appropriate. But I did see his heart behind his eyes…and saw what really mattered.

  He stared at me for a while, his face devoid of expression. “His numbers are getting exponentially worse, and if an intervention doesn’t happen soon, his heart will shut down. It’s now or never. And if I don’t do this, no one will.”

  “Why won’t another doctor operate on him?”

  He shook his head slowly. “It’s a really complicated procedure. I’m going to be in the operating room for a while. There’s so much that can go wrong, and when the risks are too high, doctors are unlikely to take a procedure because they’re opening themselves up to a potential lawsuit.”

  “And that doesn’t worry you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t get caught up in the bureaucratic bullshit that comes along with medicine. Every new doctor is motivated to be the hero everyone needs, but they get weighed down by administrative policies, greedy lawyers, and all the other shit that just drains the life out of you. I choose to focus on what matters and ignore that stuff as much as I can. That’s why I opened my own practice instead of working for a provider. I call the shots and deal with the consequences. I learned that from my father, who started his own company a long time ago because he got frustrated by the repetitive dogma in medicine. He wanted to implement changes, but that sort of thing happens slowly, so he just did his own thing. He’s saved a lot of lives that way.”

  The affection for his father was audible in his voice, despite his demeanor. “Yeah, I’m sure he has.”

  He continued to rub his hands together, a look of consternation on his face.

  “Have you ever been sued?”

  His answer exploded from his lips. “Yeah.”

  I was so surprised that I didn’t say anything for a while. “When?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He dismissed the conversation with crushing force and turned his gaze back out the window.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  In silence, he looked outside, the sunlight casting a reflective light in his brown eyes.

  “I’m so happy that you’re doing this. They have complete confidence in you. Marc could be terrified about what’s going to happen, but he seems at peace. So does Angelica. You’ve given that to them.”

  He turned back to me, his eyes full of dread. “I hope I can do more than that.”

  “I’m sure you will, Dex.”

  His eyes lingered on my face, but it didn’t seem like he was looking at me at all, his mind elsewhere. “I needed to leave medicine because I was unfit to operate on patients. Losing Allen proved that my colleagues were right, that refusing to have an emotional attachment to the patient is essential for your sanity. It allows you to handle the surgery like a machine. Just do this step, then this, and this—instead of thinking about the person putting their life in your hands. But here I am again, making the same mistakes…getting attached.”

  “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, Dex.”

  He breathed a deep sigh. “I’m rushing into this surgery to save his life, so I’m not so certain of that. Now I feel anxious, anxious to cut open his chest and pull out every single clot until he can finally breathe again. I’m desperate to remove the pressure from his lungs so he can walk more than a couple feet, so he can have a normal life once again. I want to give that to him so desperately.”

  My eyes started to water at hearing his deep passion.

  “Now I feel guilty for leaving medicine because there’re only fifty cardiac surgeons in the world who have done procedures like this more than a handful of times. I’ve done 600 surgeries. I feel weak for allowing the trauma to pull me away from where I should have been this entire time. I think about the patients who went under the knife with physicians who lacked the experience I have. I think about the patients who were turned away entirely because of money…because I wasn’t around.” He inhaled a deep breath and dropped his head toward the ground, like he was doing his best not to break down right in front of me, to burst into tears.

  My actions were involuntary, and I immediately moved to the spot beside him on the couch, one hand going to his back, my other hand touching his forearm, my own eyes wet because the tears couldn’t be combated.

  He continued to breathe hard, his back rising and falling rapidly, and after a minute, he raised his head again, his cheeks wet but his eyes dry.

  “You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else, Dex. Don’t put that on yourself.” My hand rubbed his hard back, the lines between the segmented muscles, the heat that radiated from his skin and pierced his hoodie. “This is a new beginning, and we’re going to do great things, help so many people, and make a difference in this world.”

  26

  Dex

  I went to see my dad after I left the office. He knew about my appointment today, so if I didn’t call or swing by, he would show up at my apartment. I decided to be pragmatic and come to him.

  I wanted to talk to him anyway.

  I sat across from him at the dining table, our plates empty, the two of us sharing a bottle of white wine that paired well with the salmon. Mom excused herself, knowing I needed to have this time with Dad, a physician who never stopped caring about his patients, who never severed emotional attachment, which was ironic because he failed to connect with regular people outside of medicine. I still watched him struggle to interact with people Mom introduced him to, to new people they met at charity events or wherever else. But he was the one to take his patients by the hand as they confessed their darkest fears.

  Dad drank his wine as he stared at me. He licked his lips and gently set the glass back down. He patiently waited for me to tell him about my time with Marc and Angelica, what the next step was.

  “The surgery is scheduled for a week from today.”

  He didn’t look remotely surprised, as if he had complete faith that I wo
uld buck up and do the right thing.

  “His condition has worsened over the last month. When he came into the office, he could barely take a couple steps without losing his breath. There’s so much pressure in his lungs that he can’t sleep at night because he’s constantly gasping for breath. He’s got chest pains around the clock, his blood work is through the roof, his blood vessels are so blocked, they’re about to explode.”

  Dad gave a gentle nod. “He’s in good hands, son.”

  “I’ve never removed this many blood clots before. How am I supposed to get them all in thirty minutes while not tearing into his pulmonary wall and killing him?” No other doctor would take on this operation because his condition was so chronic, the bypass wouldn’t allow enough time for it to be feasible to get everything, and I couldn’t do some and go back in later. That was traumatic to the body and the heart.

  “You forget how brilliant you are, Dex. You forget how much experience you have. How many surgeries have you done?”

  “Six hundred and thirty-two.” I never forgot a patient—ever.

  He smiled with his eyes. “You’ve got this.”

  It was the same procedure I did on Allen. I got all the blood clots and took him off bypass, but once his heart had started to beat again, he flatlined. There was no tear in the wall of his heart or his pulmonary valve that I knew of, but perhaps I missed it. The autopsy said it was unspecified cardiac arrest and nothing more.

  Dad seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. “It wasn’t you, Dex.”

  “If I don’t do this, he’ll die. So I have to do it.”

  Dad nodded. “When he’s moved to ICU and you look at Angelica and tell her that procedure went perfectly, that she can already see the steady rise and fall of his chest because his lungs no longer have that immense pressure, you will finally feel like you again. You will be you again.”

  “What if that’s not what happens?”

  “It will.”

  “How do you—”

  “Because I do. Son, if I needed open-heart surgery, you’re the only person I’d go to.”