4. Down This And Get Up
1159 Words
__________________________________
.
.
.
You know sometimes you feel like your whole life is running in circles?
Work. Home. Work. Home. Playground. Work. Home. Smoothie Planet. Work. Home.
Except for the occasional five minutes of fun and happy moments, everything is just the same.
I am always hungry, thirsty, sleep deprived, fatigued and sexually frustrated. There is no end to this.
Oh wait, that's what I guess being an adult means.
River sighed as she listened to her inner voice's monologue. The little b***h was getting more and more annoying day by day.
She rested her forehead against the cold metallic counter built-in on the wall and closed her eyes.
Thirty-three hours and counting.
She had been in the hospital for that long without going home. She wanted to hunt down and strangle whoever told her that residency was going to be the hardest. That looked like a walk in the park compared to this. Now she could relate to her professors and why they hated them as interns and residents. They were just jealous.
"Come on Dr. Johnson, down this and get up!" Jacqueline patted her back and she placed a cup of coffee and a croissant in front of her best friend.
Jacqueline and she had ended up working in the same hospital. She was a nurse and River, an orthopedic surgeon. And both their workloads were kind of the same – too much to handle.
But Jacqueline worked harder and harder every day. She was running away from her feelings. Cole Harris turned out to be a douche-bag who was only after the inheritance Jacqueline's late parents had left her.
She had come to the conclusion that, "Bad boy changing his ways and becoming a better person for you? Cut the crap! It's all just wishful thinking."
"What time is it?" River asked groggily as she dragged the paper cup over to her, pressing it onto her throbbing temple.
"Past one." Jacqueline sipped on her own cup of caffeine dose.
"Mmm, these taste way better than the ones we get during the day!"
River looked up at her to see her nodding her head as she took another bite from her croissant, closing her eyes as she savored its taste.
She sighed as she sat up, propping her head up on an elbow.
"I miss my babies." She pouted. She hadn't seen them in these thirty-three hours and that made her all the crankier and moodier and all of this all the more difficult to tolerate.
"My little babies." River hummed again as she took a bite of her own croissant. She turned to her best friend and nodded, "It's good. The new caterers know what they are doing."
The last ones were so bad, so freaking bad that the two of them had to make a trip to the bakery across the hospital every day to get something to eat. And she had been reluctant to try these out as well, but Jacqueline was on her night shift today and dragged her with her when she saw her best friend striding around the hallways like a zombie.
"Hope you didn't go anywhere near the children's ward. They will need psychological help if you did." That's what she had said to the surgeon as she grabbed her arm near the B-wing.
The day before yesterday was supposed to be River's off day but she was called in for an emergency surgery and because she was supposed to start her twenty-four-hour shift from one in the afternoon yesterday, she didn't see a point in going home so she stayed and all of it just collided and collapsed and exploded and she didn't know what the hell had happened but here she was.
Thirty-three hours.
River rolled my eyes at her own don't-know-what-to-call-itness. She had done a one-thirty-hour shift before. That's been her longest. Of course, she had slept three-four hours while on-duty but in those hours, her brain was ready for that s**t. They were bringing in patients after patients after a paint factory caught fire. None of the doctors cared about what their specialization was as they ran around from OR to OR trying to sustain the lives of the patients. That was one of the moments that taught River and many others in the hospital the importance of being a doctor.
But today, she was cranky and moody because she had absolutely nothing to do other than watch people sleep peacefully, well not so peacefully considering they were in a hospital.
Her smartwatch, An Apple Series 4 gifted by none other than good old Sebastian Shane, beeped and she looked down at it.
[ OR08, male, 32, GSW, right leg, blood loss, conscious, vitals stable]
(GSW - Gunshot Wound)
Finally! The inner voice sighed in relief. I thought I was going to die of boredom!
"Duty calls!" River hummed as she hopped off the stool, taking a big bite off of her croissant before chucking it and her half-finished cup of coffee in the bin and breaking out in a jog.
She quickly made her way to the OR wing. And she was surprised to see no one in the waiting area. Sheesh, thank god the injury doesn't look life-threatening or this might have been a problem with consent and all.
The nurse in charge, forty-three-year-old Wilma Cave, approached her with her clipboard.
"Dr. Erwin assessed him. The bullet ruptured the femoral artery and penetrated about point three inches into the femur." She reported.
"Okay. Is the anesthetist ready?" River asked as she made her way to the dressing room to scrub in for the surgery.
"He says he won't let us do anything until he meets you." She shrugged.
Sleep deprived and having to talk to adamant patients? Not the best combo at one in the morning.
"Why?" River sniffed and said, "Just ask them to knock him out or something."
Wilma gave her a flat look. She was so used to the careless comments that River made. But working with her for over a year, the wise woman had full faith in the young surgeon.
"Well, we don't want to know what happens if we do not listen to someone who is acting like he was pricked by a needle, not shot in the thigh." She gave her a knowing look.
Why are we not smart like smart people? Why are we so dumb and always getting ourselves in trouble?
"I guess I could have a chit-chat before he bleeds to death."
Wilma laughed. "Dr. Erwin assessed him." She reminded her.
Of course, Dr. Paul Erwin was called the God of Trauma surgery. He had a freaking hundred percent survival rate.
River did too. Except, Dr. Erwin had done twenty years worth of extra surgery than River.
"I hope he passes out before I get there." She crossed her fingers before making her way over to the pre-op area.
.
.
.
________________________
- Writer
