“Yes, we do. This job is about collaboration, so instead of being a pain in the ass all the time, focus on the patient—not yourself.”
She flipped me the bird then stormed off.
I joined Anthony in his office, a good physician with a lot of experience in different fields. We explored the two patients he had, looking over his results, discussing the possibilities. It was a collaboration, an exchange of ideas, exactly what it should be.
“I’ll order those labs and see what we get back,” Anthony said. “At the very least, if the results are negative, we can rule them out for good.”
I turned because Daisy passed by the window.
We made eye contact.
And she flipped me off.
This time, I did the same back to her.
She marched past.
When I turned back to Anthony, he had an uncontrollable grin on his face. “Not getting along, huh?”
“I’m tempted to fire her.”
“You can’t do that,” he said with a chuckle.
My eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“She’s the best physician here. She’s cracked more cases than any of us.”
I released a slow breath, even more frustrated now.
“You want my advice?”
I shrugged. “I don’t fucking know… Sure.”
“We’re all very close, family away from family. Daisy is really something special. But she speaks her mind, even if you don’t want to hear it. Unlike most people who are crossed or offended, she doesn’t let it go or sulk. She’ll call you out on it. So, the more you do that, the more she’s going to do it back.”
“That’s not advice.”
“Now here comes the advice. Sit down with her and have an open conversation. I guarantee you, she will respond. She’s a delightful person.”
I released a scoff.
“Give her another chance. I promise you won’t regret it.”
5
Daisy
Super Prick waltzed into my office as if he owned the place—like always.
I looked up from my desk, annoyed at the sight of him.
It didn’t matter how hot he was. He would never be hot enough.
In his sweatshirt and jeans, he approached my desk and set the results right in front of me.
I didn’t need to look to know what they said.
His smugness said it all.
He continued to stand there and stare me down, like he expected me to do something. Apologize.
Never going to happen.
“Collaboration is a key part of this process. You never would have figured this out without me, so I hope this is a lesson to you.”
“A lesson?” I asked incredulously. “You talk about collaboration. Let’s collaborate right now.”
An eyebrow raised. “There’s nothing to collaborate on—”
“Oh, I disagree.” I snapped my fingers. “Sit.”
“Say what you need to say. I have shit to do.”
I rose to my feet. “I spoke to Dr. Madurri myself. Yes, the patient tests positive for it, but it doesn’t explain all her symptoms. Some of them don’t fit.”
“There’s no diagnosis that fits every single symptom. Some things are unexplained because they’re unique to the patient.”
“But I think we’re missing something more here. How do we explain the numbness in her legs? How do we explain the changes in her vision?”
“Blood pressure affects the optic nerve. Looking at the back of the eye is a good indicator of the overall health of the patient, so it’s no surprise that this illness has compromised her vision.”
“I think it’s more than that—”
“And I think you can’t admit you’re wrong. You’re so arrogant that you can’t just admit that I figured it out and you never would have. Your priority is preserving your ego, not the patient, which is unacceptable. Get over yourself.”
I didn’t fire back, which was a first.
I just stared, feeling my features tighten into stoicism.
He stilled, like that caught him off guard.
“That is the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me.” I spoke calmly, which somehow made me feel angrier. “My life is dedicated to others, just as every member of my family has dedicated their lives to other people. To accuse me of caring about myself more than my patient…is disgusting. Yes, you were right about this. But no, I wouldn’t have not figured it out. It just would have taken me a lot longer. But I stand by what I said. There is something else going on with her. We found part one. Now we need to find part two.”
He shook his head, visibly frustrated. “If you want to waste your time finding something that isn’t there, I can’t stop you. But we will begin treatment for this patient so she can have a normal life again, something that’s been denied to her for far longer than it should have been—because of your incompetency.”
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the lobby of the practice. The workday was over, so there weren’t patients on the couch. Just Riley, taking a nap in the sunlight coming in through the window.
Sicily was on the phone, so I waved to her as I headed to Dex’s office in the rear.
He was sitting behind his desk, finishing up his paperwork to submit to the surgery centers. He looked up at the sight of me, a smile immediately moving on to his face even though he claimed I was nothing but a pain in the ass. “Hey, what brings you by?”
I fell onto the couch and set my bag aside. “I hate my boss.”
“I think everyone hates their boss.”
“Well, then you’re in deep shit because your wife hates you.”
He chuckled as he closed down his computer. “She may hate me during the day, but she sure as hell doesn’t hate me at night…”
I cringed. “TMI, man.”
He joined me on the couch, sitting across from me. “Mom mentioned you were having a hard time with the new director of your clinic. He works with Dad or something?”
“Yes. And I have no idea why Dad wrote him such a nice letter of rec. Like, why?”
“He said he’s one of the most brilliant people he’s ever met.”
I rolled my eyes. “A title he doesn’t deserve.”
“So, what exactly is the problem?”
“We just don’t get along. Instead of treating me like a colleague, he treats me like a subordinate.”
“Didn’t Dylan do that?”
“No. Not really. He respected all of us. He managed the big-picture stuff while we focused on patients. It was never boss-employee. But this guy comes in and just starts bossing me around, rudely, and then he breaks down my patient’s cases and tells me he’s got it figured out, when I don’t think he has the full story.”
“Then what is the full story?”
I told him the patient’s situation and the recent lab results.
“Maybe that is the diagnosis. Treat her and see if those other symptoms go away.”
“They won’t.”
“Well, I don’t have any ideas. At least not from a heart perspective. Maybe ask Dad.”
“No.” The answer shot out immediately.
“Why not?”
“I just…I don’t want his help.”
Dex studied me for a while, his gaze turning serious. “It’s not a competition, Daisy.”
“Never said it was.”
“Then why won’t you include Dad?”
“Because if I do, he might tell Atlas, and then Atlas will know I didn’t figure it out myself.”
“Why do you care what he thinks?”
I looked away, staring at the coffee table between us. “Because I have to prove him wrong.”
Dex rubbed his hands together, continuing to stare at me like he didn’t know how to handle this situation.
“Anyway, I’m going to go get some dinner then head back to the office. You guys wanna come?”
“We gotta pick up the kids from day care. Sicily can handle that, so it’ll just
be me.”
I stuck out my tongue. “I’d rather it be her.”
He grinned. “And I’d rather it be her instead of you.”
I worked from home the next day and night, my kitchen table covered with textbooks and papers. I would normally go to the office to pull an all-nighter, but now I never knew if Atlas would be there, and his presence was so unbearable that it shattered my focus.
A bottle of wine was on the table, and as the night passed, it got lighter and lighter. Another bottle was opened, and I ordered a pizza because I didn’t feel like cooking dinner. My eyes grew tired from staring at ink on paper and bright screens. My fingers were pruned from constantly licking them before turning the page.
I was exhausted.
I wanted to go out with my friends and have a good time. I wanted to blow off some steam with a hot guy.
But I had to do this—and quickly.
My phone lit up with a text message from Dad. Want to come over for dinner? Bear misses you.
I miss him too, but I have work to do.
You’ve been working a lot lately.
Well, I’ve got a lot to prove lately.
Alright. Love you.
Love you too, Dad.
Atlas and I came to an unspoken agreement not to speak to each other.
And it worked.
We began treatment for Melinda, who was eager to get some relief after a decade of being under constant duress. It was a mixture of medications, but the biggest component of her issue was her diet.
Fixing that alone would dramatically change her symptoms.
This was my favorite part of patient care, starting treatment after an eternity of suffering, to watch the patients light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, to be excited for life once again.
But I didn’t feel that way this time.
My gut told me something was missing.
I hooked her up to the dialysis machine to remove the impurities that her system couldn’t process. Then the medications would begin, along with the new diet I’d outlined for her. She sat there for a while, just on her phone.
I stopped by to visit. “Need anything? We have some apples and grapes in the break room.”
She put her phone down, a young woman about my age. “No, I’m fine. Just eager to get this over with. Feels funny.”
I smiled. “I’m sure it does. You know Prince Philip has his blood cleaned out every year until he passed away. Some people think it’s the reason he lived for so long.”
“Really? Why?”
I shrugged. “Removing toxicity in the blood perhaps. I really don’t know. There’s not enough scientific evidence just yet.” I rose from the chair beside her. “Well, I’m going to get back to work. I’ll check on you later.”
“Dr. Hamilton?”
“Yes, Melinda?” I turned back to her.
“Um, everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“You’re just not…yourself. You’re normally really happy and talkative.”
Because a fucking shadow with the rage of a hurricane swept into my life, but I didn’t say that.
“Do you not think this will work?” Her eyes fell in despair, the fear taking over.
On the spot, I didn’t know what to say, and it was impossible to lie to my patient. “Yes, I do think this will work. But I also believe there’s a chance that we’re missing a second diagnosis. I want you to know I’m working day and night to find it.”
She deflated like a popped balloon, the excitement turning to dread. “Oh…”
I returned to the chair. “I believe that this diagnosis is correct and responsible for most of your pain. Your treatment will dramatically improve your life. But it doesn’t quite explain your other symptoms, so I’m going to keep digging. It’s very common to have multiple diagnoses because it’s rare for people to just have one issue they’re dealing with.” My hand moved to hers. “But this is still a win. This is still exciting. Don’t stress about it.”
I was so stumped that I resorted to Google.
The textbooks didn’t show an illness or disorder that could explain her issues, and I wondered if perhaps there were three diagnoses instead of two. But I wasn’t entirely convinced of that either.
Melinda responded well to treatment, her pain and fatigue gone, her kidneys finally healing after the constant shredding they had experienced. It was nice to see her feel better, to move normally without fear of getting hurt.
But as I expected, her other symptoms didn’t subside.
We were missing something.
I explored Reddit and other blog sites, searching for a plausible answer. Her first diagnosis was already rare. Perhaps the second one was just as rare too.
Atlas entered my office.
My eyes looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time in a week.
His dark eyes showed how angry he was.
This guy was always angry. “Having a bad day?”
He stormed to my desk and placed his palms on the surface, getting close to me to show his flared nostrils and maniacal eyes. “Why did you say that to Melinda?”
“Excuse me?”
He straightened, his muscular arms tight at his sides. “Her symptoms haven’t completely subsided, but she said she didn’t expect them to because you told her there was another diagnosis that we haven’t found.”
“Which is the truth—”
“The patient’s attitude about the treatment directly affects the results of that treatment. You already put failure in her head, so that’s exactly what happened. What the hell were you thinking?”
I rose to my feet. “She asked me if I thought the treatment would fail, and I couldn’t lie to her. I don’t lie to my patients. I don’t give them false hope.”
“You did lie—because that’s not true.”
“It is true.”
“Then what is the explanation?” he demanded. “You’ve been working on this for a week, right? What’s your answer?”
I stilled and felt his furious gaze pulse into mine. “I’m still working on it—”
“You’re full of shit, Daisy. Let it go.”
“No, I’m not going to let it go. I know I’m right.”
“The only reason you still have a job here is because I respect your father. So, thank him for that.” He turned around and stormed off.
I watched him go, so furious that I didn’t even know what to do with myself.
6
Atlas
My integration with the clinic took a couple days, but once my colleagues witnessed my passion and brilliance, they accepted me with open arms. It was a pleasant experience, everything I hoped the transition would be. I selected the patients admitted to the clinic, but I also got to do patient care—which I enjoyed.
But there was one thorn in my side.
Daisy fucking Hamilton.
I meant what I said. I would fire her if it weren’t for her father. He was the reason I got the job in the first place, and firing his daughter would be a terrible way to repay his kindness. Medicine wasn’t absolute, it was constantly a mystery, and I would never fault a doctor for being wrong about something.
But I faulted her for caring more about vanity than patient care.
Couldn’t stand that shit.
I was smarter than her. She knew it.
I was more resourceful than her. She knew that too.
I was more qualified for the position she wanted. And that infuriated her most of all.
The blood was drawn, and I processed the data myself because I didn’t like to hand off my work to a lab technician. It was my research, and unless I had my hands on it every step of the way, I would always question the results.
I’d just gotten everything uploaded into the spreadsheet when Dr. Hamilton walked inside.
“Tell her I can get to the hospital in a couple hours. Thank you.” He hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Everything alright?”
“One of my patients is in the ER. I’m going to swing by and take a look at her.”
“Reaction to the treatment?”
“Unlikely. I think the cancer has progressed.” He sat on the stool across from me while the printer fired off with the data I’d just prepared.
“Hope not.”
“It’s how it goes sometimes.” He walked to the printer and grabbed the papers before he took a seat again. “Got plans this weekend?” He read through the results.
“Just work.” It was all I ever did. I went out with friends sometimes, sometimes picked up a woman I met along the way, but most of my time was dedicated to work, falling asleep on the couch or at my desk and never making it to the bedroom. “What about you?”
He lifted his chin and looked at me across the table. “We’re having a celebration at my place on Sunday.”
“Is it your birthday?”
He stared for a while longer, his eyes shifting back and forth as he looked into mine. “Father’s Day.”
“Oh…that’s right.” I looked back at the results and made my note with the tip of my pen.
“I don’t mean to pry, but did your father pass away?”
I didn’t expect the question, and normally I would just deflect it, but he was my colleague and my boss…and it felt wrong to ignore him. “Yeah. He’s been gone for a while now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I looked up to see the sincerity in his eyes, like he genuinely cared instead of just blurting out the phrase everyone else said. “Thanks.”
“I lost my father when I was in my early twenties. Took it really hard…and never really got over it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Lung cancer. It’s ironic because my research could have saved him, but I wasn’t fast enough.”
I suddenly felt the weight he bore on my shoulders, felt his grief with my fingertips.
“That trauma has carried over to my work ethic. I always feel like I’m racing the clock now.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“My kids got it too.”
The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless Book 12) Page 4