Precaution

I’ve always had a theory that if people never interacted with one another, we’d all live the same life. It would be boring and mundane but we wouldn’t know any better. Life would be simple, life would be easy.

But we do interact. Our lives are changed by the people we decide to let in, by the people we allow to get close to us. They become our lovers, our best friends, the people we depend on. They make living exciting, painful, beautiful—they make it worthwhile. Without people, without our best friends and our lovers, we’re nothing.

We’re just there.

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“I can’t find the source of the bleeding.” I said underneath the light blue surgical mask, my hands buried in a strangers chest as I struggled to find the rush of blood. I felt muscle and bone and tissue—they were all irrelevant now, I needed to find the bleeding. I could feel my fingers against the latex, gently groping organs in order to find the damage.

“Here it is—right under the right marginal artery.” I finally said, my voice leveling. I could feel another surgeons hands move near mine, clamping down the bleeder so that the heart could continue to be repaired. My eyes fell back down to the heart, pulsating softly as the rest of the doctors worked around it, repairing what was once broken.

I’ll have to admit that right there in that moment, I kind of smiled. I realize that this was a bad move considering I’m a serious surgeon and serious surgeons don’t smile when there’s a patient laying on the operating table with an open chest, but I couldn’t help it. I loved cardiothoracic surgery but it came right back to my theory, how fate and human interaction work together to create something beautiful and magical, how they create your destiny. And yes, it sounds horribly cliché, but I know that if I hadn’t been in Derek’s car on the night of my accident a year ago, if I hadn’t reached inside his chest and felt his heartbeat fade, my fingers literally clutching the dying organ, I wouldn’t have become what I am now. To feel a human heart in your hands is just—

Well, it’s everything. It’s life in the palm of your hand.

“Alright, he’s good.” I heard the attending- Jackson Savard’s- voice direct us and my eyes immediately moved to Katarina Swenn. She was a second year, just like me, and a brilliant surgeon so far. She was cold and quick and wonderfully smart with a special interest in neurosurgery. More importantly, she was my best friend in the hospital.

Kat moved quickly from the OR and into the scrub room, snatching her surgical mask off her face and snapping the bloody gloves off as I began scrubbing down.

“Did you see Novikova’s face in there?” she asked in her steely, humorless voice.

“You know she hates us all—“ Kat began, reaching for the soap as she neared the sink. “—but the fact that you were able to find the bleeder in like ten seconds probably made her hate you less. “ she finished, glancing over at me as she scrubbed her hands underneath the water.

I just shrugged and smiled, reaching over to turn off my faucet before throwing the paper towel in the trash as she finished and followed me out of the scrub room and into the hall.

“What is wrong with you today?” She asked, looking at me as I grabbed the chart in silence. “You’re all happy and….light.” She added, looking offended.

“I am happy.” I said with a grin, pushing my hair back as I turned on my heel and faced her walking backwards. “I just saved a mans life today and I’m not in the clinic or gynie. Novikova has me on the cardio rotation all day. Life is good, Swenn. Appreciate it. Breathe it in. Live it. Love it.”

Kat watched me, slightly disgusted. “I miss philandering whore Violet. You were fun when you came to work drunk and pissed off. And you were trashy and much less idyllic.” She said after me, but I just grinned and turned around, continuing to walk through the halls of the hospital.

In a moments notice, the pocket of my scrubs began to vibrate and I glanced at my cellphone with a lighthearted smile.

“I just got out of surgery, you have impeccable timing.” I answered with a grin, waiting to hear the voice on the other line.

“I’ve been tol- HI VIOLET!” came the mixed response after, followed by a brief struggle. I could hear French complaints in the background and tried not to laugh as I strolled through the ICU.

“Way to steal the phone Marc. You ignore me for a week and now you want to chat?” I replied, glancing through the giant windows in the upstairs atrium hallway. It was snowy and perfect in Pittsburgh, a fairytale setting in the steel city.

“Hey now, lets be fair. We’re playing the Caps tomorrow and I need to be sharp. I mean, I’m clearly the best already but that Ovechkin seems to have a lot of lucky bounces.” Marc-Andre Fleury joked on the other line. He was one of my best friends, but more importantly, he was married to my very best friend, Dr. Lucy Verlan-Fleury. She was a funny, quick-witted arborist who dragged me out to Pittsburgh in the first place a year ago.

A year ago, she was single and living the life in our tiny two bedroom high-rise a couple blocks from the hospital. And now, thanks to an ill-fated coffee cup and a clumsy hockey player, she was married with a dog.

I shrugged and grabbed a cup of coffee from one of the carts in the cafeteria, trying desperately to avoid contact with the new attending neurosurgeon, Neal Hansan, He was attractive, in that “way too attractive to be an actual hospital doctor” kind of way that left you wondering whether or not he was even licensed to practice medicine, but at the same time not caring whether or not he even graduated college. He was standing in line getting food and I refused to acknowledge him in any way.

Not that it mattered to him anyways, but I owed it to myself to not think about cute surgeons when I had a boyfriend and a life that I absolutely loved. Instead, I threw down a few dollars for my cup and grabbed exactly two splenda’s before turning around to find a seat with the rest of my friends.

“Dr. Anderson.”

I dropped the splenda on the ground and we both bent down to reach it, my cellphone cradled against my shoulder and a coffee cup in my right hand.

“Hi, sorry. Dr. Hansan. How are you?” I asked politely, if not awkwardly, feeling my face turn hot. He just stared at me with an easy grin, moving his apple into another hand.

“I’m great. I have a craniotomy today and I was wondering if you wanted to scrub in?” he asked with a relaxed smile and I fumbled with my sentence and stance, trying to look as collected and disinterested as possible.

“Oh uh yeah great, that sounds….great.” I replied, clutching my Splenda. Hansan nodded with another smile, handing me a chart in my free hand.

“The surgery is at four, prep her at 2:30.” He said before walking away, leaving me there standing near a coffee cart looking like a complete moron.

“That was really smooth.” I heard Marc’s voice on the other line, suddenly remembering I was on the phone.

“Shut up. “ was the only comeback I could manage as I walked off to the table and fell into my seat. Kat watched me curiously as she bit into her sandwich, as did Lexie and the rest of the second-years.

“’Great that sounds…great.’” Marc mocked me as I took a sip of my coffee. “I’d tell Sid to watch out for competition, but at this rate, he’s got nothing to worry about.”

“You are a horrible human being. Why are we even friends?” I asked jokingly, taking one of Mark’s chips quickly.

“Because I married your best friend. And I’m adorable.” He replied and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fair enough.”

“So as much as I love talking to you, Lucy called because you’re coming over to dinner tonight. It’s mandatory so I’ll see you at nine. Bye!” he said quickly, hanging up before I had a chance to protest. I set my phone on the table and looked at all my friends.

There was Lexie Scott, blonde and unnaturally kind, who was passively eating carrot sticks as she people watched. Next to her was Mark Lauder, the kind of guy that was dirty and filthy without having to try—the kind of guy that was dangerous and attractive in the rugged, scrappy, underdog kind of way. He was studying, an unnatural activity for him. Kat sat by him, people watching along with Lexie and simultaneously mocking Mark. Right next to her was Michael O’Neil who was kind and genuine, a true people person. He was cute, the complete opposite of Mark in the sense that he was the definition of a good boy.

“What did Hansan want from you?” Lexie asked, picking up another carrot. Kat leaned in forward and I could already tell the mocking would commence.

“Oh yes, Vi. Tell us what Hansan wanted. What did he tell you from those pretty pretty teeth, watching you with his blue blue eyes, running a hand through his perfect hair—“ she paused, clearly out of things to mock about him.
“I’m scrubbing in on a craniotomy in like an hour. “ I said, taking another chip from Mark.

“The dude is a Ken doll.” Mar commented, briefly looking up from his book. Kat leaned back and gave a short, dry laugh.

“And you’d know?” she asked, her expression amused. Mark threw his chip at her and geared up for attack.

“I have sisters. And I probably know more than you, I bet you cut your Barbies heads off and microwaved them. Sick, sadistic woman.” He rebutted and Kat threw a grape at him.

“Bite me, demon spawn.”