Page 73 of Doctor Second Chance

Her words keep replaying in my head, which I’m sure isn’t helping my irritation. Her caution about Shep mixing in uncomfortably with the warm memories of our weekend together. I was feeling so good, so hopeful when I left his house this morning. Now I'm not sure what to think.

Traffic crawls forward at a snail's pace. I tap the fingers of my right hand impatiently on the wheel, willing the cars in front of me to move faster. The app recalculates. Nine minutes now. Great.

"Come on, come on," I mutter under my breath.

Izzy's voice echoes in my mind. "A man who says right off the rip that he doesn't want to commit is a red flag, Elle. Especially if you’re going to be doing this long-distance thing. You have to know he is in, or you could be just spinning your wheels, orbiting his world, and dropped like a hot potato without a moment’s notice.”

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. But doubt creeps in, insidious and unwelcome. What if she's right? What if I'm setting myself up for heartbreak again?

But, God. He says all the right things. He has to be the best dad ever, so doting and just perfect with Opie. When he said he would be honest, that seemed like enough. But am I being a fool?

The light turns green, but the car in front of me doesn't move. I lean on my horn, frustration boiling over.

"Move it!" I yell, knowing full well the driver can't hear me.

Finally, traffic starts crawling forward again. But it's too late. I'm definitely going to be late now.

"Shit!" I scream, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. All the emotions I've been holding back—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope—come rushing out in that moment of frustration.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It's just two minutes. It's not the end of the world. But as I continue navigating the Birmingham traffic, I can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I'm racing towards something much more complicated than I'm prepared for.

TWENTY-THREE

Shep

2:37 pm

Randy, Buster, and I are hunched over cups of coffee, discussing the latest case that brought us all three into the OR.

"That was a doozy," Randy says, shaking his head. "Never seen a tumor wrapped around the optic nerve quite like that before."

"Tell me about it," I reply, refilling my cup. "For a minute there, I thought we might lose vision in the left eye entirely."

Buster chimes in, "But you pulled it off, Duncan. As always."

We discuss the case in detail, dissecting each step and decision made in the OR. This ritual helps us decompress and learn from each challenging surgery.

Mid-sentence, my phone buzzes. I glance down, and my heart skips a beat when I see the Houston Methodist number flash across the screen.

"Sorry guys, I've got to take this," I say, already heading for the door. I leave my piping hot cup there as I want to be able to give my full attention as I walk to my office.

I answer as I hurry through the stark hall, wanting to get to the solace of my office. "Dr. Duncan speaking."

"Dr. Duncan, this is Dr. Patel from Houston Methodist. I'm calling about Ari Black's condition."

My pace quickens, and hope and anxiety are warring inside me. It's been a week of minimal progress, each day lessening the likelihood that she would wake up with no residual complications. As I know all too well, with a brain injury, a lot of it is wait and see and hope for significant signs of improvement.

"Yes, Dr. Patel. How is she doing?" I ask, my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside.

I push open my office door, shutting it behind me for privacy as I listen intently to Dr. Patel's update.

I sink into my chair, the weight of Dr. Patel's words hitting me like a freight train.

"I understand, Dr. Patel. Can you walk me through her latest EEG results?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

My mind races as he details the minimal delta wave activity and absence of alpha rhythms. I know what this means. We're looking at a Glasgow Coma Scale score of 3 or 4 at best.

"And the latest CT?" I inquire, though I can already guess the answer.

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