Page 57 of Keeping Her Under
But I don’t leave it in defeat. Because I know I’m about to be put on mandatory leave.
My next patient is obese, and propofol, a drug we use for general anesthesia, isn’t validated for a girl of her size. So she has a higher chance of being aware during her operation, locked in and unable to scream despite seeing everything we’re doing to her. Perhaps even feeling it.
She has a higher chance of dying too. To keep a patient under, I have to constantly give them anesthetics. But it’s not just a case of “calculate the right dosage, automate it, then play on my phone.” It’s more like trying to keep a bathtub level while someone else keeps fucking with the plug.
If I let the level fall too low, they’ll wake. If I let it overflow, they could die. But because propofol is absorbed into the adipose tissue, part of the “water from the tub” is basically being pulled into another faucet. When their body fat finishes breaking the drugs down though, that faucet is going to open. As a trickle maybe.
Or as a mad gush that could damn well flood the bathroom.
She looks up at me nervously as I wheel her into the OR. I count her down, smiling into her trusting eyes.
And all goes well.
For a while.
Then the stress of being overworked starts to get to me. The guilt of my “mistake.” I struggle to stay focused. Keep sharp. I miss things…
And so she suffers a stroke.
Aw, damn. Now the Chief Anesthesiologist will have to scramble to save his own ass. He knew I was crumbling under the pressure, but he left me in the field anyway.
Tsk. Tsk.
By the time the operation is over, my superiors are waiting for me.
And look at that, I’m put on mandatory leave.
Thirty-One
I keep my mask of shame, self-disappointment, and guilt on until I drive out of the hospital parking lot. Then I let loose with a smile. I’ve never felt more alive. More hopeful of what the future might bring.
As my thoughts fill with delicious daydreams, I head towards Summer’s house. The spare key I made for it hangs on my bunch of keys, and I reach down to fiddle with it to feel closer to her.
By the time I reach Mobile, AL, I’ve planned our entire wedding. Picturing her in a white dress and holding a bouquet of blue flowers, with a splash of gold leaves in the mix, I feel tears start to prick at my eyes. She’s so beautiful. So goddamn beautiful.
And she’ll look at me with that same level of trust and submission that she had that first night in the ER.
Do with me what you will, Rath Slader. I trust you to take care of me. Please make every decision about my life.
My heart swells until I can’t take it anymore. I pull into a mall parking lot and find an empty space at the back. Pulling out my phone, I turn on the teddy cam app.
As soon as she appears on my screen, my cock thickens, well-trained and greedy for her love.
But I don’t care about my arousal right now. I’m concerned about her mental health. Is she suffering now, locked in some nightmare? Or is she sleeping peacefully?
My screen is too small for me to clearly see her face.
Frowning, I stroke her through my screen. “I’m going to make it up to you,” I promise. “I’ll be your Sandman and give you nothing but sweet dreams.”
Keeping the app open, I finish driving to her house. When I get there, I grab some of the empty cardboard boxes I put in the back of the van this morning, then head inside.
I smile as soon as I enter, feeling the beauty of these four walls. It might look trashy, but this was her safe space – somewhere Lance couldn’t get to her. So now I’m seeing it with new eyes.
I remove my shoes so I don’t add any more wear and tear to the threadbare carpet. Then I make my way into her library. I pack up her books one by one, taking my time to read the blurbs so I can get more of an idea of what she likes. I’m halfway done when the doorbell rings.
I tense, adrenaline rushing through me. Is it the cops? Did Ryan finally figure me out? Or did Nurse Jones find the teddy cam?
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I open the app. My heart races. The doorbell rings again.
