Page 10 of Doc Showmance
“This is my case, Hardin.”
“I have permission from this dog’s owner, who happens to be a friend of mine”—small white lie—“to take over. Step away frommypatient.”
His face mottled. I feared an explosion coming as Susan helped me into a surgical gown, cap, mask, and then gloves. Usually, I’d do a ten-minute scrub before going elbow deep in an abdomen, but given the level of blood, time was limited. And Mac’s blood pressure was crap.
“You can’t do anything for him,” Kovac snarled.
“Out!” I hip-butted him out of my way. “Susan, you got Bull with you today? Think he can do another blood donation, or is it too soon?”
“It’s been about a month since the last time he gave blood. He should be good.” She pointed to the Great Dane in a run across the hall. “He’s out there.”
“Great. Dr. Kovac is going to help you do calculations to get us some blood to transfuse Mac. For now, bolus fluids.”
I assessed Mac’s monitoring parameters. “Why the hell doesn’t this dog have an IV catheter in, and why isn’t the Baer hugger beneath him to give him warmth?”
No one answered. No one needed to.
I scowled at Kovac, not that he could see through the mask. I didn’t need to voice my disgust with him cutting corners. This wasn’t a case where the owner wanted to save a buck. Wade wanted to save his dog.
“We can’t get him up to put heat under him at this point. Bring in some warmies to put along his sides, and let’s cover his paws.” Warmies were what we called old fluid bags we heated in the microwave to provide extra heat. “We’ll do the best we can.” I made eye contact with the two surgical techs in the room. “Ladies, time to pull on the big-girl panties. I need you to get a catheter in him stat and get him on fluids.”
Susan ushered Kovac out of the room by showing him the form to fill out for sedation doses to get the blood. I hoped Kovac knew the steps in the process of obtaining blood from a donor dog.
Susan’s frustrated gaze met mine. She muttered something and stomped off, probably to do the transfusion herself. This place would fall down if she wasn’t here to keep us moving forward. God bless that woman.
An hour later, my calves ached since I’d spent most of the surgery on my tippy-toes. Forgot to lower the table. Being a shorty sucked, not that five-five is that short. Still, I placed a line of staples and stood back, done.
All of Mac’s parameters hummed along, happily stable, even if his body temperature was low. The tumor was out and being packaged to go to the lab for biopsy. Blood transfusion was still running.
Susan deflated his endotracheal tube cuff in preparation to remove it when Mac woke up. “Total badass, Doc. Yet again. Last night that splenic torsion, and now today.”
I didn’t acknowledge the compliment. They made me feel awkward. I’ve never handled praise well.
“Let’s warm him up. Get him awake and blinking at us.” Then I remembered the cameraman in the corner. Oh, no. This would be tomorrow’s prime time drama.
* * *
“Mr. Decker is up front,”Susan said. “Receptionist said he’s been sitting up there for about a half hour.”
Poor Wade. A lot of his angst was my doing. I needed to apologize for that. Mac had been extubated and now rested beneath a warming blanket.
“I’ll ask if he wants to see Mac.” I glanced around at the disaster of surgical supplies and clutter in the room. “Maybe straighten up a bit?”
“I’ll go talk to him,” Kovac said, appearing as if out of thin air. He’d changed out of the bloodied scrubs into his standard jeans and seventies Hawaiian shirt with his stethoscope draped around his neck.
In comparison, I usually wore scrubs and a lab coat. I filled every pocket with supplies like pens, a calculator, thermometer, and a penlight. Because I was a dork who needed the assurance of if I needed it, I had it on me.
“Like hell you will.” I got in front of him. “Did you even let Wade said goodbye before you started?”
“Who’s Wade?”
I rolled my eyes. “The owner, for fuck’s sake. No.” I shook my head. “You’re not talking to him.”
Kovac leaned in and said low, “Look, this is my case. I started it. I’m ending it.”
“You pronounced his dog dead on the table. In fact, you decided he was dead before you even went into surgery. Why even do the surgery if you knew you were going to kill him?”
Kovac’s gaze darted to the camera that was getting all of this conversation recorded. “That’s bullshit. I care deeply about all my patients.”
