Page 13 of Nanny for the Doctor

The presenting doctor will detail the entire patient case from arrival to expiration, answering questions from the assembled physicians and surgeons.

We do it all the time. It isn’t something to be worried over, but here I am, near panic in my chair as Dr. Anthony tries to tell me about his weekend.

I’m not listening in the slightest and just nod along where I think it’s appropriate.

Doctors lose patients, I tell myself. But for whatever reason, maybe because I haven’t in a while, I feel guilt crawling beneath my skin as I think of the woman who died on my shift.

These councils aren’t punitive. If they really thought I did something wrong, I’d be suspended while the hospital investigated, so I already know I’m fine.

Still, my mind swirls as I wonder if I missed something—aside from the location of the other tear.

My stomach churns as the current presenter, Dr. Fletching, wraps up her talk about the second to last case. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that second cup of coffee.

“All right. The last case today is Patient O’Mally. A female, twenty-five years old, sustained multiple injuries and internal damage during a car accident last Friday.”

All I can hear after that is the pounding of my heart. It’s so loud that it muffles Dr. Fletching’s voice.

Time slips into a fog where I’m unsure if we’re still talking about the same case or how long it’s been. Images of the surgery scatter through my brain, replaying the moments searching for the other bleed on repeat.

I’m nervous I’ll be sick if this swirling array of memories doesn’t stop, and then I remember how I wasn’t there for Clara’s surgery. Her doctor couldn’t stop the bleeding, either.

It was a freak turn of luck. Everything is just luck. Or lack of luck.

That impending doom I felt the night I got the call swells in my veins. I should have been there for her, forbothof them.

“Dr. Finnigan? Doctor?”

I snap my attention back to the presentation and clear my throat. “Apologies. My findings during the pre-op examination supported the presence of a tear in the ventricle. When I opened the patient up, I was able to locate the first tear, but at that point, it was clear there was another somewhere on the posterior side of the heart. I was unable to find it before the patient suffered critical blood loss. The patient could not be stabilized and expired before the second laceration was located.”

The words come out of my mouth automatically. I’m not truly aware of what I’m saying. There’s more discussion, and I can answer a few questions without being wholly present.

The minutes drag on as we discuss what more could have been done to save the patient and if any procedures in place delayed the woman receiving timely medical treatment.

But I can’t really hear what they’re saying. All I can hear is Dr. Romano’s voice from three years ago telling me my wife was dead.

“So—” Dr. Fletching’s voice suddenly cuts through the mental fog “—can we determine that better care could have been provided?”

I remind myself these conferences aren’t punitive. People do make mistakes, so if I made one, this meeting exists to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

That’s all.

It doesn’t matter to me right now, however. I’ve already convinced myself I made a mistake, and that mistake is not acting quickly enough—just like before.

Dr. Fletching addresses the crowd with her final thoughts. “So, in my opinion, we can all agree on the cause of this particular case.”

My gut burns, churning harder, and I look down at the patient file in my hand. The woman’s date of birth sits at the top of the paper.

August 15. She had the same birthday as my wife.

Chapter5

Mae

Reed is out the door before I can say another word, and as far as first impressions go, I’m bothered by his parenting skills—or lack thereof. While I understand that being a doctor must be challenging, there are ways to provide stability for your kid.

Maybe he shouldn’t have waited till the last minute to hire someone. Sheesh.

I look down beside me where Henry stands. He closes the door and goes back to the couch, where I see a bowl of cereal waiting for him on the coffee table.

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