Page 5 of Playing the Field

Was this her first code?

Shit.

I knew she was new, but I figured she’d run a code before.

Lilly wipes her nose on her sleeve and shakes her head. “I’m good. I’ll sit with him for now. Someone should call his wife.” Her eyes dart up to the clock and then back to me. “She went to get him something to eat.”

Peterson and Findlay shuffle out of the room, each one patting Lilly on the back and offering a ‘job well done’ for her efforts. I smile at her as I walk past her, and thankfully my lips don’t quiver. I’m just as on edge about this code as she is, because I admitted him three days ago and have been on top of his care. “I’ll give her a call,” I promise her and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Great job.”

I pull the curtain closed behind me and let out a deep sigh, trying to fight the sob building in my chest. Mr. Jenkins might have been the one to take a beating to the chest, but my heart feels like it’s the one that got put through the wringer.

Now I have to call his wife and tell her that she almost lost her husband.

I fucking hate CCU shifts.

The TV shifts from one game to another as I watch the highlights flicker across the screen hanging above the dimly lit bar. I missed the start of the Tigers’ home game tonight but made it to the bar just in time to watch them score. “Come on, Halloway,” I mumble around a mouthful of pretzel sticks.

“I heard you had a shitty day in the Critical Care Unit.”

I nearly drop my beer and choke on a pretzel as my roommate and best friend drops into the stool beside me. She beats her palm against my back as I cough and wheeze, trying to dislodge the piece from my airway. “Same shit, different day,” I manage to get out around fits of coughing. The beer washes the rest of the offending appetizer down.

“You were there late. You missed the whole first half. The Thunderhawks lost their right-wing ten minutes into the game.” She plucks a pretzel from my plate and lifts her finger to the bartender.

Sam acknowledges her with a nod and pulls out two more bottles from the cooler.

My ears perk up at that information. “What happened to McMillan?” If they lost him, they’re already in the hole and the Tigers have a chance to really sweep the floor with them.

Veronica narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not talking rugby with you right now. What happened to Mr. Jenkins?”

“How did you even know about that? You were off today!”

Veronica is an overnight nurse who typically works in the CC and IC units, and despite being a vampire, she manages to stay on top of all the hospital gossip. I’m not surprised that she heard about Mr. Jenkins so quickly because he has been one of her favorite patients to care for.

“What happened to my sweet Walter?” she asks, ignoring my questioning look.

I take a large swig of my beer and then slide the empty bottle to the edge of the bar. “Fuckers didn’t even put him on a blood thinner,” I mutter under my breath and pick at a crack in the wood grain with my fingernail. I fight the rant that’s churning in my chest, but ultimately lose because I’m just so pissed at the situation.

“The man just had a major abdominal surgery where part of his liver was surgically removed. He was already at a high risk for clotting due to a family history. It’s like they didn’t even read his chart before taking him back. I get that it was an emergent situation, but that doesn’t mean they should be so careless, and do you wanna know the worst part?” I round on Veronica, unable to reign in my irritation. “When I brought it to the attention of the attending, all he said was ‘Well it’s a good thing you were working tonight.’ Not even so much as an ounce of humility, Vee! They could have killed him!”

She rolls her eyes and brings the bottle to her lips, but stops before turning it back. “What do you expect? They’re surgeons, and everyone knows that Dr. Kobaltix has a God complex and can do no wrong.”

She’s not wrong.

Out of all the attendings in the hospital, he’s my least favorite.

“Have you heard anything about your other application?” Vee asks, tactfully changing the subject before I can launch into another rant.

I shake my head and flag down Sam for another round and some cheesy fries. My eyes flick back up to the TV screen and I watch one of the Tigers’ players take a major hit, sending him sprawling across the pitch. I can’t see the number on his jersey to see who it is.

“Ana! You sent it in weeks ago! How have you not heard anything?” she argues and steals the last pretzel off my plate.

I give her an exacerbated side eye as I push the empty plate toward Sam, who slides my fries toward me. “The email just said that my application was submitted and would be filed away for future use. I’m sure the teams all have a complete medical staff at the ready.”

The aforementioned application was for a sports medicine position with one of the rugby teams. It didn’t matter which team or which city, I just had to get out of the hospital setting before I really lost it. The shifts, while sometimes rewarding, often leave me feeling empty and burnt out.

The players on the screen clash in a brutal maul, the Tigers’ number eight holds onto the ball while two more come to his aid. The players battle in a churning mass of six players across the field, each vying for the ball. I watch in awe as the Tiger’s number eight breaks free and sprints across the pitch, leaving the Thunderhawks in the dust.

Veronica snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Ana? Hello? Are you deaf?” she barks when I blink my eyes back into focus.