Page 10 of Night Shift

No one made a sound. Dr. Thorin’s instruments clinked softly as we watched him work. The critical moment approached, and I braced myself. Dr. Thorin made a swift, precise insertion into the pleural space. There was a sudden, soft whooshing sound as air and blood escaped through the newly created pathway. It was both a relief and a reminder of the injury’s severity.

I held the tube as Dr. Thorin secured it with sutures, his hands moving with the grace and confidence of a surgeon who had performed this lifesaving procedure countless times. The precision of each stitch was mesmerizing. The sutures were fine and delicate compared with the severity of the wound they surrounded. I shifted my focus to the chest tube itself. My job now was to ensure it remained stable and correctly positioned. I observed as Bethany connected the tube to the sealed water container. With each breath the patient took, blood and air bubbled rhythmically in the water-seal chamber.

Brandon’s breathing, previously ragged and shallow, began to ease. The hissing sound of air passing through the chest tube was a sign that the pressure in his chest was being relieved, allowing his collapsed lung to re-expand.

“Tube in place. Secured,” Dr. Thorin finally declared. He glanced at me and gave me a nod of appreciation for the silent coordination that had just transpired between us. It gave me a rush of professional satisfaction and relief. We had potentially saved Brandon’s life with our timely intervention.

With the tube now secured, I watched intently as Brandon’s labored breaths created a rhythmic dance of bubbles in the water. The sight was both fascinating and harrowing. The bubbling was not just a mechanical response but a visual cue of the air and blood being safely removed from Brandon’s pleural space. Blood-tinged froth intermittently bubbled to the surface, painting a stark picture of the internal trauma. The oxygen saturation monitor beeped steadily, the numbers climbing back to safer levels.

As I cleaned the area and applied a sterile dressing over the site, Dr. Thorin’s voice cut through my focus. “Samantha, I need you on the surgical team. We’re going to OR three.” I nodded and followed him. Around me, the team started to move on to the next steps of Brandon’s care.

After I’d scrubbed in, I stepped into the operating room, where Dr. Thorin prepared for the surgery that a specialist would spearhead once he arrived. The bullet had to be carefully retrieved, avoiding further damage to the lung and nearby blood vessels.

With an unyielding focus, Dr. Thorin carefully navigated through the wound track, ensuring hemostasis and checking for any additional injuries. Dr. Sylvan, a cardiothoracic surgeon who had been called in for this complex procedure, joined us, providing additional expertise.

The removal of the bullet was precise, and the surrounding tissue was skillfully repaired. “Suturing,” Dr. Sylvan finally announced. I handed him the necessary instruments and watched as he neatly closed the incisions.

After the surgery was concluded, Dr. Thorin took a moment to acknowledge the team’s effort. “Good job, everyone.” He peeled off his gloves, the latex snapping gently as it left his hands, and tossed them in the trash. His eyes, previously laser-focused and intense, now scanned the room. He looked at each of us in turn, giving nods of genuine appreciation. He relaxed, and a rare, small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Post-surgery, Brandon was transferred to the PACU, where he would be closely monitored for signs of re-accumulating pneumothorax or hemothorax and for any respiratory distress. His recovery journey had just begun, but thanks to the swift action of the medical team, he’d been given the best chance for a full recovery.

As we left the OR, Dr. Thorin’s eyes met mine again. This time, there was a hint of something more—something I couldn’t describe. But evidently, Bethany understood. Turning to Dr. Thorin, she huffed, “Really?” and stomped down the hallway. I ducked my head and shot away to go clean up and check back in with tonight’s charge nurse.

When that was accomplished, the ED was relatively quiet, giving me the opportunity to go get something to eat. I walked into the break room, finding Bethany sitting alone, eating some mixed fruit and flipping through a magazine.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, opening the fridge and pulling out my lunch bag.

Bethany looked up, her expression tense but not unfriendly. “Hey, Sam. Mind joining me for a bit?”

I nervously chuckled, pulling out a chair. “Sure, but only if you’re buying the coffee. You owe me for guessing closest to the drunk patient’s EtOH level. You remember, the guy who you passed off to me the night before last? His EtOH was three fifty-eight, and now you owe me a coffee.” I gestured toward the coffee machine in the corner. “And by buying, I mean getting up and making a fresh pot.”

Her lips twitched into a half-smile. “Deal. And by the way…” She paused, went over to the coffeemaker, and started pouring some grounds into a fresh filter.

I held my breath. Last night, when Dr. Thorin had called me “Sammich,” Bethany’s reaction hadn’t escaped my notice. It had been a combination of surprise and something else…jealousy, maybe?

Bethany let out a long, slow exhale, breaking the silence. “Look, Sam, about last night… I was curt with you, and I shouldn’t have been. It’s just…there’s a bit of history between me and Dr. Thorin.”

My eyebrows shot up. “History? You mean like…”

She nodded, a rueful look crossing her face. “Yeah. We had a thing. It was fun but brief, just a few hookups here and there, but I guess I’d hoped for more, even though I knew better. I suppose some part of me still has a thing for him. When I saw how much he affected you, it stirred up old feelings. But that’s my problem, not yours. He made it clear he’s not into relationships when I pursued him. I’d had a crush on him for years and flirted with him mercilessly. Finally, one night, it just happened. We were both stressed to the max, and one thing led to another. We were together a few more times, but then he ended things. He was apologetic. Said something about his heart not being ready for anything serious. I thought he was being dramatic, but then again, he’s never let any woman get close to him, so who knows. Rumor has it that he cuts a woman loose as soon as she even hints at wanting a relationship.” She heaved a loud sigh. “But sex with him, well, it’s fabulous. Oh, my God, it’s so good. Don’t judge me…but fucking that man for few hours was time well spent. I’ll never regret it. Every woman should have an experience like that at least once in her lifetime.”

Bethany set the hot coffee, a few sweetener packets, some creamer, and a spoon in front of me. Taking my time to respond, I stirred the creamer into my coffee, trying to hide my surprise. She’d shared a lot more than I’d ever imagined she would. I realized now she was the type to overshare, but I honestly liked that. I liked that she trusted me enough to be honest and straight up about what had happened between them.

“I had no idea. I mean, with him calling me ‘Sammich’ and all, I just thought he was being his usual arrogant self, trying to make me feel insignificant or something. Since I started working here, we’ve verbally sparred a lot. I don’t let anyone run roughshod over me—I like to give it back to people.”

“I really am sorry,” she said. “The way I spoke to you was uncalled for, and it won’t happen again.” Then she leaned in, her voice dropping. “Sam, he only gives nicknames to women he’s…interested in, you know, in a certain way. Just be careful, okay? Well, that is, unless you do want to have the best sex of your life.”

I snorted. “Trust me, Bethany, Dr. Thorin is the last man on earth I’d ever want to be with. He’s such an arrogant asshole. But his brother Braxton? Holy hell girl, he’s hot and so much easier-going,” I said, laughing.

“Wait till you meet Conan. He works here as a nurse. If you think the older Thorin brothers are handsome, he’s going to blow your mind. He’s a lot younger than Atticus and wild as the day is long. He’s constantly pushing every button Atticus has.”

“What? All three brothers work in the medical field? And at this hospital?”

“Yes, and of course, Atticus lords over the younger two like he’s some sort of Godfather. Braxton isn’t too much trouble for Atticus and is only in and out as an EMT, but Conan…he lives to yank his chain. I can’t tell you how many times Atticus has had to bail him out of trouble.” Bethany genuinely laughed, clutching her belly. “I think it’s sweet justice for all the women he’s toyed with over the years.”

Her expression softened, and she changed the subject. “So, speaking of men, what’s your deal? Any interesting love-life tales?”

I shrugged, the question making me a bit uncomfortable. “Not much to tell, really. Just one guy in college. It was pretty…vanilla.”

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