Precaution

Today, I felt different.

Today, for the first time in a long time I felt ready. Ready to be back in the hospital, ready to feel the cool metal of the scalpel in my hands, ready to feel the adrenaline of surgery.

I wanted to work today and made it as far as the locker room before Novikova managed to shut down my hopes and dreams. I pulled my scrubs on as Katarina studied a chart. “What’s that?” I peered over, pulling my hair up into a ponytail.

“Chief has a whipple today.” She replied, closing the grey binder and shoving her jeans into her locker. I put on my lab coat and smoothed down the fabric. “You’re assisting on a pancreaticoduodenectomy?” I asked, seeing Mark barge through the dressing room doors. “Swenn is doing a whipple?” He asked running over to his locker to hurriedly put on his scrubs. “How did that happen?”

“Because” Kat started, slamming her locker closed. “I was here at 4:30 and you got here at 5:30.” She put her curly black hair into a bun and walked out to the nurses station to grab the rest of Savards charts. Novikova entered the locker room to gather us for rounds as I was putting my stethoscope around my neck. “Rounds start no—Anderson. What the hell are you doing here?” I looked up at her, surprised. “Working?” I replied, startled. “No. Not today. You don’t start till Monday and you know that. “ She snapped back, her cold voice not exactly the thing I needed to hear at five thirty am. “But I’m ready! Katarina pulled 48 hours with a 101 degree fever and I know last Thursday, Mark had the flu and was running labs and scans all day. I don’t even need to cut. I just want to be here.”

Novikova stared at me long and hard, her icy glare boring into me. “You want to see the whipple, don’t you?” Shit, I thought. There was no way to get past her. A Whipple was the procedure performed on patients with pancreatic cancer. I knew the basis of how it was done: Remove the antrectomy, followed by the gall bladder and the common bile duct—every med student learns the basis to the surgery, but I had never seen one performed. The hospital only gets one or two a year.

Novikova looked completely unimpressed with my efforts. “Get out of this hospital, you look like hell. There is no way I am letting you see any of my patients today. There will be plenty of pancreaticoduodenectomy’s in your sad, pathetic little lives. All of you.” She said, addressing everyone now. I sank down on the bench and checked the time. It was almost six am and I knew that Lucy wasn’t even close to getting up. In the five years that I’ve known her, I don’t remember seeing her awake on a Saturday before one pm. I sighed and changed back into my normal clothes, pulling on my dark wash boot cut jeans and black V neck t-shirt. I filed out of the locker room and stood alone in the elevator, waiting impatiently as it took me to the plastic surgery wing.

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I sat on an examination table, impatiently clicking my pen as I waited for Dr. Connors to come in and remove the sutures from my face. It’s been two weeks since the accident and Derek still hadn’t woken up. My bruises had faded and my scars looked better and I had all but erased the memories of that night from my mind. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to once again push out the past.

Connors pulled the curtain and greeted me with an insanely attractive smile. Connors was a slightly older version of Mark; wildly good looking and successful, but the kind of man that was just inherently dirty. It was as if though he was constantly flirting even though he hadn’t said a thing. I sat up straighter and he snapped on a new pair of gloves. “Doctor Anderson, It’s good to see you. When are you returning back to work?” He said, running an iodine-covered swab over my sutures. I shrugged, feeling a little disappointed again. “I tried to come back today since the chief is performing a whipple and I heard Savard is doing a piggyback too, but Novikova won’t let me come back till Monday.” Connors smiled at me, rolling in his chair to the examination room drawer and taking out collagen. He stuck a needle into the tip, removing what looked to be about two CC’s. “This will hurt now” he said, looking at my forehead, “but you’ll love me when there’s no scar.” He injected the needle and I flinched back. It did hurt but I didn’t want this scar to be on my head forever, a perpetual reminder of that night.

I exhaled and he sealed it with a clear adhesive, tossing the needle and removing his gloves. My phone gave a buzz in it’s pocket and I put my coat on and thanked Connors, walking out of the room with my blackberry to my ear.

“Good morning sunshine!” I could hear Jordan on the other line, his voice framed by the familiar sound of Pittsburgh traffic. Ever since the accident, I had found myself forming a closer bond to the group. Jordan, Sidney, Kris, Max and Marc had all become a regular part of my life. I suppose that makes sense after you go through something like that. And to be honest, it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy their company. Jordan and I were probably the closest friends in the group, though Marc was constantly around with Lucy. The two of them had become almost attached at the hip and it was obvious something was beginning to develop.

“What are you doing up so early?” I asked, waving bye to the nurses as I walked out of the hospital. I was greeted by the snowy air and the sound of distant sirens wailing.

“Kris woke me up and said he was hungry. He’s like a baby, has to be fed every three hours. Are you at the hospital?” Jordan asked, and I could hear Kris’ voice in the background now too.

“I just left. They won’t let me operate till Monday. Three weeks without surgery is torture.” I pouted, turning the corner.

“Poor baby. Want to meet us for breakfast? I’m thinking bagels.” Jordan replied and I had to admit, that sounded pretty good. The only thing I had today was the banana and grapes I had used earlier for practice. Kat taught me the running whip stitch and how to do coronary repairs for pediatrics and I had been practicing on fruit all night. I was craving to operate, to feel the rush that came with saving a life. Stitching up bananas wasn’t sufficient enough anymore. “That sounds great, I’ll see you in like..two minutes.” I said, stuffing my phone into my purse before crossing the street. Jordan was a creature of habit and even though I hadn’t known him that long, he was so predictable that I knew exactly where he was headed for food.

I opened the door of the diner and saw Kris and Jordan sitting near a large window, the morning sunshine pouring in. “Hey guys.” I said, sliding in the booth next to Kris. I shrugged off my jacket as the waitress came over, brushing the snow off of my coat. “I’ll have a diet coke, thanks” I said, taking them menu from her when she asked for my drink order. Kris and Jordan were studying the menu intently, their hands already clasped around their mugs of coffee. Kris turned to me and shook his head. “It’s like Siberia outside and it’s not even seven thirty in the morning, and you’re ordering diet coke?” he asked, giving me an amused smile. I leaned into him with my shoulder, bumping him lightly. “Shut up. It’s caffeine and you know I don’t really like hot liquids.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I could already picture Jordan’s response so I put a hand up. “Stop. Don’t even say it.” Jordan laughed, taking a sip of his coffee. “It was too easy anyways.” He replied.

“Kind of like you?” I asked playfully, causing Kris to choke on his coffee in laughter.

“I can’t help it if the ladies want all this.” Jordan replied, motioning to himself. “That doesn’t make me easy, that makes me a stud.” He said, earning himself an odd look from the waitress as she came back to take our orders. As soon as she left, Jordan and Kris both exchanged a look. “A chocolate chip bagel sandwich? With eggs and cheese and bacon?” Kris asked finally. “Who are you, the food police?” I asked, unrolling my silverware.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Our food came and we ate and laughed, having ourselves a general good time. Kris and Jordan were amazing at taking my mind off of things and when you mix food into the equation, the results become amazing. We left the diner stuffed, our sides hurting from both too much laughter and too much food. I buttoned my coat up, pulling it tighter across my body as we walked out onto the street.

“Are you busy this afternoon?” Kris asked as we marched along the sidewalk through the snow and ice. I shook my head. Lucy and I were supposed to go shopping but I knew she wouldn’t be ready till at least two. She needed things to fall into a routine and Saturday mornings wouldn’t be the same if she wasn’t sitting on the couch with a bowl of fruit loops and DVR’d episodes of Maury. I on the other hand, was in no rush to get ready seeing as I’ve been up since four in the morning.

“Not at all. I haven’t had a life for the past few weeks. “ I replied.

“Good.” Kris answered back, adjusting the Penguins cap on his head. “You should come to the optional skate. We’re headed our way there now and I know for a fact that today will be fun. Pascal and Craig are bringing their kids, and little Rhys is a better skater than Jordan.” I laughed, shifting my purse to the other shoulder. “I don’t know how to ice skate.” I replied, slightly embarrassed. I had a good reason—there wasn’t exactly a lot of ice in Palo Alto—but it still felt awkward to admit that in front of two people who made their living off of ice skating. Then again, I was fairly certain neither of them knew how to do a decompressive craniectomy either. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you.” Kris said “I am the best skater on the team.” Jordan punched Kris in the arm and Kris made a quick retaliation. “That sounds great. Lets go!”