Page 65 of Doctor Neighbor

“Suction,” I instruct, my eyes never leaving the surgical field. The assistant moves quickly, clearing the blood and fluids to give me a clear view. The worst part was when we discovered a small perforation in the duodenum. A complication like this can turn a routine procedure into a nightmare. We had to repair the perforation meticulously to avoid any leaks that could lead to sepsis.

“Clamp,” I say, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from my brow. The repair went well, but it added hours to the surgery. As I place the final sutures, I can feel the collective relief in the room. Mrs. Thompson is stable, and her vitals are strong. We managed to navigate the complications, but it was a close call.

“Let’s start closing,” I announce, my voice filled with exhaustion and satisfaction. The team moves with practiced efficiency, closing the incision layer by layer. I inspect each step, making sure everything is perfect. This has been a tricky surgery, but seeing her vitals stabilize is worth every minute.

“Good job, everyone,” I finally say, stepping back. “Let’s get her to recovery.”

As we wheel Mrs. Thompson out of the OR, I finally let myself breathe. Five hours in surgery is grueling, but knowing she’s going to be okay makes it all worth it.

I head to the scrub room, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. I need to brief the family and explain what happened and why it took so long. But first, I take a moment to gather myself, washing away the stress and sweat.

Just as I leave the scrub room, I check my phone. A dozen missed calls and messages light up the screen. My stomach drops as I see Cole’s name among them, along with several from unknown numbers.

Something’s wrong.

I quickly open the most recent message from Cole.

My heart skips a beat, and the exhaustion from the surgery is replaced with a surge of panic. I grab my things and head towards the ER, dialing Cole as I move.

"Please go update Mrs. Thompson's family," I bark to the PA as I put the phone to my ear. Normally, I would go out to speak with them after surgery, but I need to find out what is going on with Maddie STAT.

My heart races as I sprint through the sterile corridors of the hospital, the urgency of Cole's message propelling me forward. I quickly dial her number, my fingers trembling slightly. She answers on the second ring, her voice thick with tears.

“Buster,” she sobs, barely able to get the words out.

“Cole, I’m on my way. I’ll be there any second,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rising panic. “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll be right there.”

I can hear the fear and desperation in her voice, and it takes everything in me not to press for details. But I know asking her to explain over the phone will only upset her more. I need to be there to see for myself, to understand what’s happening with Maddie, and to speak with her attending.

“I’m almost there,” I say again, more to reassure myself than anything else. “Just hang on.”

I hang up and push through the doors to the ER, my eyes scanning the chaotic room for any sign of Cole. I spot her near the nurses' station, her face streaked with tears, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The sight of her like this sends a fresh wave of fear through me, but I force myself to stay focused.

“Cole!” I call out, rushing over to her.

She turns, her eyes wide with relief and panic. “Buster, my sweet Maddie,” she chokes out, fresh tears spilling over. “She was unresponsive at school. They don’t know what’s wrong.”

I pull her into a tight hug, feeling her trembling against me. “I’m here now. We’ll figure this out,” I whisper, hoping to offer some comfort. “Where is she?”

Cole points towards a room at the end of the hall. “They’re running tests. They won’t know anything until the results come back.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my own racing heart. “Let’s go see her.”

We walk together to Maddie’s room, my mind racing with possibilities and worst-case scenarios. But I push those thoughts aside. Right now, all that matters is being there for Maddie and Cole and doing everything I can to help.

As we reach the room, I brace myself for whatever comes next. Maddie needs me, and I won’t let her down.

We step into Maddie’s room, and my heart breaks at the sight of her lying so still on the hospital bed. Her small chest rises and falls with the help of an oxygen mask, her face pale and serene in a way that’s utterly wrong.

Right now, I feel less like a doctor and more invested than I ever have. I’ve never been in this position, seeing someone I genuinely care about like this. I want to put all I know and all I’ve learned to work to fix this.

Well, I’m aware that I cannot just fix it. But I can damn sure make certain we do everything and anything to get to the bottom of this and then get her the proper and best care available.

I pull out my stethoscope and gently place it on her chest, listening to her heart rate and breathing. Her heart is steady, but her breaths are shallow. I move the stethoscope to different points, making sure I’m not missing anything.

“Her heart sounds strong,” I say to Cole, trying to offer some reassurance. “But her breathing is shallow. Let’s see what else we can find out.”

I grab the nurse’s computer and quickly log in, pulling up Maddie’s chart. I scan through her vitals and the notes the doctors have made so far. Her blood pressure is stable, and her oxygen saturation is within normal limits, but there are still too many unknowns.

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