Page 60 of Heal Me

“They own a private security firm.”

“Private security. Sounds almost as vague as the consulting business.”

“Dad, I thought the interrogation was over,” I warn.

“I just want to make sure my little girl is safe.”

“I will do everything in my power to ensure your daughter remains safe,” Gabe solemnly says.

Our server returns and we order breakfast, and then I turn to the men at the table. “Before you two start, I can’t handle any more football talk.” I want that out there from the get-go.

“Tell me about this midwifery program,” Dad commands.

Me and my big mouth. “It’s a fourteen-month program—in-classroom learning and supervised apprenticeship. It starts this fall and I’m really excited.”

Dad doesn’t look impressed. “And your plans for this summer?” he asks me.

“I haven’t decided.”

“I’m the keynote speaker at an upcoming surgeons’ conference. I need a research assistant and someone to help me put together my presentation. Would you be interested? It shouldn’t take more than a week’s worth of work. Of course I would pay you a stipend.”

I want to jump out of my chair and give a big cheer, as this is my abundance spell playing out before my eyes. One week’s worth of work in exchange for the rest of the summer off! “Sure.” I try to sound nonchalant, but I’m wanting to jump up and down in celebration.

“Excellent. I’ll email you the details. The topic is blood transfusion in an emergency setting and how the focus needs to shift from quantity to quality.”

“How so?”

“Old dogs like me were trained to transfuse at a trigger point of ten. Now we know better outcomes are obtained at a seven.”

“He’s talking about the hemoglobin level,” I explain to Gabe. “Shouldn’t you also factor how much blood the specific patient lost when deciding how much volume to transfuse?” I point out.

“You can’t deny that this is in your blood.”

“Funny,” I say dryly.

“Yes, the amount of blood transfused should be in direct correlation to how much blood was lost during the specific surgery, but studies are showing that’s not the case. I want you to summarize those studies for me.”

“I’d be happy to. There’s actually a blood shortage at my hospital. Is there one here?”

“No. There’s not a national shortage at the moment. Has there been an uptick in trauma cases in Memphis?”

“I’m not sure, but I guess that would explain it. I recently observed Dr. Tom Cooper perform an emergency thoracotomy on a gunshot victim.”

“I don’t know Dr. Cooper, but I know of him. Stellar reputation.” If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything, and so I don’t. “What was the outcome?”

“The patient made a full recovery.”

“Impressive. The odds of surviving—”

“Ten percent. Trust me, I know.” Turning to Gabe, I say, “I’m sorry, we’re getting all clinical at the table.”

“Luckily for us all, I decided against the blood-sausage breakfast platter,” he says as he finishes the last bite of his omelet.

“Ha,” I say.

“Gabe, tell me more about your work. I’m not clear on what it is you do.”

“Perhaps you should go with my PI next time. He’d give you a much more thorough report.”

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