Page 5 of Doctor Second Chance

My guess is she’s really going out to make a call that she doesn’t want me to hear. I love that she is sticking around so much for me, but I just wish she would go. I feel terrible keeping her from everyone. There is no need for both of us to ruin our weekend.

As if on cue, a handsome man walks in wearing a white coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. “Hi, I’m Dr. Hampton,” he says. “Looks like you got in a fight with some glass shards. Didn’t your momma tell you not to play with broken glass?”

I’m not in the mood for jokes, even if he does look like he belongs on the pages of Vogue.

“Yes, apparently, that is not a fight I should have picked. Am I going to be able to get out of here tonight, Doc?”

“We are going to take a look at your scans. I’ll review them as soon as they come back, and then we can go from there.”

“Can you give me some hypothetical scenarios? In case things don't look good, I want to know what to expect. I like to be pleasantly surprised when things go better than anticipated. My life is in your hands. Or, my hand in your hands.

That pun wasn’t intentional. I start to babble when I’m uncomfortable. And to say I am uncomfortable would be a massive understatement.

Sophie has been glued to my side all afternoon, but when the moment she has been waiting for arrives, the part the doctor comes in with the “plan,” she’s out in the hallway on some clandestine call.

I pull out my phone. Speaking of calls, I want to call Isabella right now. But I don’t want to ruin her night. She is the one person I would always consult on something like this. And Justin, before we ended things. But now it’s just her.

Still, I decide to text my mom instead. I don’t want to freak her out, but I want to reach out to somebody.

Suddenly, I realize that Sophie’s constant presence has been comforting. Now I have to rethink my whole, “I’ll be fine alone if my shining prince doesn’t come along,” mantra.

“I’ll take excellent care of you. I know it is getting late, but if you need surgery, we will aim to do it within the next hour or two. If we can’t get everything lined up by nine, then we will schedule it for first thing in the morning. Trina will keep you updated on everything and take excellent care of you until I see you again sometime after you get your MRI.”

“Like we might have surgery tonight? Did I just hear you right?”

“Possibly. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s see how the scans look, and then we will know better what we are dealing with.”

Great. There are no good scenarios here. I’m fucked either way. Even if it is minor, I’m not getting out of here anytime soon. And if it is more than minor, I have to have surgery.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be right here anxiously awaiting your return.”

I’m trying not to cry as I absorb all of this information.

“Can I get you anything else?” Trina asks after Dr. Hampton is gone.

The surgeon sweeps in, delivers terrible news before the terrible news, and then sweeps right back out, leaving the nurse to pick up the pieces. I just wish someone would hug me, tell me everything will be alright, and that I’m not alone.

“No, I think I'm okay right now. Thank you so much.”

As she leaves the room, I watch her pink scrubs with little bears on them walk out. I'm sure they're supposed to make the patient feel better, but they only make me feel worse. All my friends are getting ready for a party I mostly planned and am financing while I sit here with Teddy bears and Alzheimer’s brochures.

Coming to terms with the fact that I'm going to have to have some kind of major surgery alone is pretty fucking miserable. I'm a thirty-one-year-old woman, and I have no one to bask in my misery with.

On top of wallowing in my realization that I am all alone in this world, I don’t have time to work a hand surgery and recovery into my already-packed schedule. I’m supposed to be in Los Angeles in less than forty-eight hours for work.

Perfect timing: the International Marine Conservation Congress in LA is next week. I’ll miss it if I can’t get back to Florida in time to catch my flight Monday morning. The thought sends a wave of frustration and disappointment crashing over me.

This conference is more than just a professional obligation—it's a lifeline. It’s where I connect with fellow marine biologists, share my research on coral reef restoration, and learn about the latest advancements in marine conservation.

Every year, I return home inspired, armed with new ideas and collaborations fueling my work. Missing it would feel like an enormous setback, not just for my career, but also for the passion that drives me.

The ocean is my life’s work, my escape, my everything. I’ve dedicated countless hours to studying its mysteries, advocating for its protection, and this conference is where I recharge that dedication.

"Ms. Klass?" Trina's voice breaks into my thoughts. "Are you alright?"

I blink, realizing I've been staring blankly at the wall. "Yes, I'm fine," I manage a weak smile. "Just processing everything.”

"It's understandable," she says kindly while she does something with the beeping machine attached to my body. "But try not to worry. We'll take good care of you. I’ll keep you posted as soon as I know anything.”

---