Page 18 of Sinful in Scrubs

Jason nodded at her, wide-eyed. His mouth hung open. She hadn’t yelled or shouted, but as Jason nodded and started blinking, his face turned white. Then the tears started.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

He collapsed back into my desk chair.

“I think I’ll let you handle this, and we’ll talk about scheduling our meeting another time. Okay?”

She patted me on the back.

“That was a good catch,” I managed to say.

“I think the two of you have a lot to discuss. I’ll see you later.”

My son needed me, but I couldn’t help but watch her leave. There was something about how she handled that entire situation—from her superhero-quality reflexes to how she managed to put Jason in his place. She got through to him, I think, in a way that all of my blustering and shouting hadn’t.

9

EMMA

“Damn it! Damn it!” I cried. I hadn’t meant to let my emotions get the best of me. It felt like I had been fighting all alone and the patient had just given up. We had a full team on this one, and yet, I had felt completely alone in the need for them to survive, as if my will was the difference between a heartbeat and nothing.

“Call it,” Marcus said in a low, even tone. He didn’t sound nearly as defeated as I felt.

I stared at the telemetry monitors. I barked out the time before slamming my palm against the base of the monitor. It continued to make its mocking, piercing tone. “Someone turn this stupid machine off.” I tried yanking at the power cable.

“I’ve got it, Doctor,” one of the nurses said calmly.

“Emma, why don’t you go clean up?” Marcus suggested.

I glared at him.

“Are you up for letting the family know, or do you want me to do that?” He still stood next to the patient, still calmly working.

I didn’t see the point and said as much.

“The family will ask to see them. It’s what we do for the families, remember?” he said as if I had completely forgotten every aspect of my job. Maybe I had. I hadn’t lost a patient in a long time. I hated it every time. It never got easier. I just grew more detached and numb.

Tonight, I felt very much tethered to that patient. I was far too emotionally impacted. I didn’t want to be the bearer of the worst news possible. Then again, maybe it would help me find the solace I needed.

“No, I’ll tell the family,” I said. I pulled off the PPE I wore for surgery. In the changing room, I dumped the garment and donned my white doctor’s coat. It had my name and the hospital’s logo embroidered over the left breast. It made me look official even though I was still wearing my standard hospital-issued blue scrubs and surgical cap.

It was late and the waiting room had dimmed lights, giving the pretense that people could relax and rest while they waited. No one was calm. The tension in the room was heavy and thick. The people here waited for the worst news of their lives or for blessed relief.

I felt the eyes of several people lock on to me the second I entered. I quietly crossed to the couple against the far wall. The patient’s mother was curled in on herself, folding her small frame completely into a tight ball on the chair. Her husband, the father, had been pacing back and forth in front of her. He stopped as I stepped in closer.

I didn’t have to say anything before the mother started sobbing. Her husband wrapped around her, comforting her in their mutual grief. He hadn’t come out of the same accident unscathed. He had a wrist cast, but his child had nothing. Nothing.

What was he thinking right then? Would he have traded places with the child? Would he willingly leave his wife alone but with their child if he had that choice? What was the mother thinking? Was she even capable of any thought beyond her pain?

Could I face a future without either my spouse or my child? Was it even a choice I could make if I were faced with it? I shook my head. They hadn’t been given a choice. They had to face their lives without an integral part now.

“Can we see her?” the father asked, just as Marcus had predicted.

“Of course. It will be a few more minutes. A nurse will come out and take you back.” I waited in silence for a few moments longer, in case either parent had any questions. When it seemed like they had forgotten about me in their grief, I left.

I walked slowly, processing my own grief. As a matter of professionalism, I did not get personally invested in the health of my patients. It was a harsh necessity for maintaining my sanity. I was there for the treatment and survival of the kids whom I specialized in because I believed that children were the key to a better future.

Right now, I couldn’t see the few feet in front of my eyes, let alone the future. This one hurt so much more than I remember other deaths hurting.

---