Tempted By The Brooding Surgeon

“Good. I’ll be over at Administration, evaluating tomorrow’s patients, making final decisions about who’s on the list and when.”

Annabelle and the nurses all nodded, focusing on the patient, as they should. Daniel stripped off his gloves and mask and went to the other cement block building that served their bare-bones administration staff and doubled as a waiting room/sleeping room combo. Families with children sat on the folding chairs and sprawled on the floor, many of whom he knew had come from miles away. Patiently waiting to be seen, they slept there or outside on homemade blankets they’d brought with them, along with bags of food, since the clinic could only provide bottled water to drink. They waited to find out if they’d be one of those chosen to get well, or be put on the list for the next time a clinic was run. Some looked deceptively healthy, others were visibly ill. Far too thin, too pale, too quiet and motionless for a child to be.

Daniel’s own heart abnormality had always been hidden behind a facade of good health. He’d played sports, he’d skied, he’d seemed fine in every way. With both their heart functions in reasonably good and manageable conditions, it had been decided that surgery on the identical twins wasn’t worth the risk to either of them. That was, until Gabriel’s heart condition had worsened and he’d ended up needing the surgery that had ultimately killed him.

Daniel hadn’t had to face that.

He knew it was possible that things might change. The hole in his heart that both brothers had been born with, and that medical professionals had always kept an eye on, could get larger and more problematic than the simple arrhythmia he had to deal with sometimes. Living with his heart abnormality was a little like carrying around a ticking bomb. It might never go off. Or it could someday result in endocarditis or sepsis. Stroke. Death.

It meant Daniel lived every day as if it were his last and never committed to a forever. No long-term relationships, no children. He simply couldn’t promise anyone that he’d be here on earth for a long time, and it wouldn’t be fair to put a woman or a family through that kind of uncertainty. Through the possibility of future pain.

Twenty years had passed since his brother had died, and time had dulled the intense grief. He and his parents and grandparents still dealt with the kind of deep pain that came from a sudden, shocking loss. The ache would always be there.

Holding in a deep sigh, he moved his gaze from the throngs of patiently waiting families to the front desk, trying to detach himself by focusing on the list of patients there. He shoved down the ache that came with every mission trip, knowing he couldn’t fix everyone who needed it. Knowing that his decisions about who would get on the surgery lists and who wouldn’t meant more worries for the people who loved them. More kids who couldn’t play in a normal way until their hearts were repaired. More who might die if the tests done before he’d arrived didn’t show how serious their situation really was. More whose families might lose them forever if he made the wrong choice.

“May I have the list of possible patients for tomorrow?” he asked the receptionist. With the long sheet in hand, he moved from family to family, child to child. Reading their charts and talking with them about their symptoms. Listening to their hearts to evaluate murmurs and arrhythmias, and to figure out the best course of action to help them to get better.

Hoping and praying he got it all right.

“I think that’s it for the day,” he said in Spanish to the clinic receptionist, who seemed as worn out as he did, and he knew the whole team had to feel the same way. “I’ll let everyone know we’re done until tomorrow morning.”

“Sí, Dr. Ferrera. I’m sure more folks will arrive by morning, and I’ll try to sort them by health priority before you talk with them after surgery tomorrow.”

“Be sure to let me know if any seem critical, and I’ll look at them between patients to see if they need to be fitted into the rotation as soon as possible.”

She nodded, and Daniel bit back a tired sigh at the thought of more patients to evaluate even before the medical team started surgery in the morning. But that was the whole reason they were here, wasn’t it? To see the maximum number of the most ill children was the name of the game.

When Daniel stepped back inside the cement block building that housed the OR, he was surprised to see Annabelle helping Jennifer and Karina wash out the masks and tracheal tubes they’d used for their patients, sterilizing them, then hanging them to dry. Most docs left that to the nursing staff and local tech assistants, and he watched her lean over to dig out surgical items like sponges and syringes from a box he hadn’t seen before.

“What’s all that stuff in there, and where did it come from?” he asked.

“I brought it.” Annabelle didn’t look up at him, just kept laying out items for tomorrow morning’s surgeries.

“Did your hospital donate it?”

“Dr. Richards started a—”

Annabelle sent Jennifer a deep frown, accompanied by a small shake of her head, that had Jennifer quickly closing her mouth.

What was that all about? He looked from Annabelle to Jennifer, then back to see Annabelle intensely concentrating on sorting the equipment. He couldn’t help but wonder what it was that she clearly didn’t want him to hear, and he would definitely be asking Jennifer later when Annabelle wasn’t around to shush her.

“It’s just a few things. Not as much as we’d like to have, but I didn’t have much room in my suitcase and, of course, I had to bring the useless monitor.”

So she was still angry with him about that. Not that it was any real surprise.

“I never said it was useless. I said we’d functioned without monitors plenty of times in the past, and that missing a whole day of surgeries, then being late with a patient already on the operating table and putting us hugely behind schedule, wasn’t worth the time wasted getting one here.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the strident sound of his words made him feel a little ridiculous. It was history at this point, and the woman had worked hard all day with the rest of the team, with successful outcomes for every patient. He nearly opened his mouth to say something more, maybe a general congratulations and thank-you to the whole team, but the words died at the icy dislike in the look she sent him.

Those pretty lips of hers had thinned, too, but she didn’t respond, which he was fine with as the subject needed to be dropped. “Anyway,” he continued, annoyed that he felt awkward, “I’m told dinner is being held for us at the hotel. Anything I can do to help get things finished up here?”

“We’re fine, Dr. Ferrera. Not much more to do, but you go ahead,” Annabelle said as she hung another washed-out mask on the line.

“I’m not going to eat while you’re all still out here.”

“This is the last bit,” Jennifer said, drying her hands and shooting him a grin. “And I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m pretty much starving.”

“Me, too,” Daniel said, glad that at least she and the other nurse weren’t holding some kind of grudge against him, channeling Annabelle’s obvious dislike. He needed a good working relationship with the surgical team. “Let’s go.”

Normally on these kinds of trips Daniel had dinner with the team then excused himself to be alone. To regroup and relax after a long day of work that was stressful no matter how many years he’d been doing it, knowing children’s lives were literally in his hands. But tonight the jovial mood and banter between the group kept him in his seat. Jennifer and Karina told a number of absurd hospital stories during dinner that had everyone laughing, including Annabelle. Why he found his attention was focused on her more than the storytellers, he wasn’t sure. But as soon as he pondered that, the answer was obvious. Something about her sparkling eyes and infectious smile and pretty face made him smile, too. Drew him to her, whether he liked it or not.

From the moment they’d all started eating he couldn’t help but notice that Annabelle seemed to enjoy her dinner far more than the rest of them. While the food at this hotel wasn’t bad compared to what was often on the menu on mission trips, it hardly qualified as something to lick your lips over. But from the look on Annabelle’s face as she ate every bite on her plate, anyone would have thought it was gourmet fare.

He nearly commented on it, but decided that would probably just make her mad at him all over again. His relationships with women might be of the sweet but short variety but that didn’t mean he wasn’t well aware that most females didn’t appreciate observations about how much food they did or didn’t eat, and whether or not they seemed to be enjoying it.

So he kept his mouth shut, while watching her pretty lips smile as she chewed and her enthusiasm as she poked another bite into her mouth. Enjoying watching her was a big part of the reason he hadn’t retired to his room. Irritated though they’d both been with one another yesterday and this morning, he liked seeing her face relaxed and smiling, to hear the sound of her musical laughter. All that was a lot better than the scowl and cold voice she usually sent his way, though he didn’t understand why he suddenly seemed to care about that.

“How about you, Annabelle?” The question came out of his mouth before he’d known he was going to ask it. “What’s your most memorable mission trip story?”

Her eyes met his, looking surprised that he’d directed a question to her. “Hmm...” she said, tapping her finger against those lush lips. “I guess the craziest thing that ever happened was on one of my trips to Guatemala. The military guides in front of us were stopped, then surrounded, by a bunch of cutthroat-looking guys with all kinds of weapons pointed at them, and us,” she began, and Daniel had to wonder why she was smiling at the retelling of what had to have been a scary situation. He’d been in a few himself, and even now would definitely not have been grinning about them.

“Oh, my heavens,” Jennifer said, wide-eyed as she pressed her hands to her cheeks. “What happened?”

“We were in the SUV behind them, and obviously we were worried. A nurse and I were the only passengers in the car, planning to meet the surgeon at the mission site. We kind of froze, wondering what our guides were going to do, figuring we should stay put. But then the guys came back to our car and gestured for us to get out. Gotta tell you, my knees were shaking! They took us to a house, and we had no idea what was going to happen. Whether they were going to take us in there and just plain shoot us, or do something awful to us, or what.”

Daniel found he was holding his breath, even as he knew this story must have a good outcome or she wouldn’t be smiling like she was.

“And?” Karina asked, obviously as riveted to hear the answer as he felt.

“They opened the door, and before we were even inside, we could hear a woman moaning. The minute we saw her, it was obvious that she was in labor and having some kind of serious problem. In a lot of pain. We ended up doing an emergency C-section on her, delivering the most beautiful twins you’ve ever seen. And they were healthy and fine—such a relief because we weren’t sure what to expect, you know? Then later, when she and the babies were stable, I came back out to tell them everything was okay, that mama and babies were all fine and healthy. They whooped and hollered and hugged me and swung me around until I couldn’t breathe!

“And one man—I never knew for sure, but I assume it was the babies’ father—had tears rolling down his cheeks as he hugged me. It was an incredible feeling to know we’d helped, and that maybe the mother and babies wouldn’t have made it without us. It felt like it was divine intervention that we were traveling there when they needed us, you know? It was the best day of my life.”

“I can’t believe you never told me this before!” Jennifer said. “So they were nice to you, then?”

“Maybe too nice.” Annabelle grinned. “They plied us with rum and beer and all kinds of food, and we ended up staying the night there, partly because we wanted to check on the new mom and babies in the morning and partly because the military guys and our driver had a bit too much for them to handle getting behind the wheel.”

“Wow, now that’s one for the books,” Karina said, laughing.

“Yeah, it was scary, but funny and wonderful, too. If we hadn’t been on the road there at that moment, I think the outcome might have been bad. So it was a truly great night. The best feeling in the world. Then word apparently got around, because on the way to the two clinics we worked on that trip, there were always locals helping us out any way they could, even acting as secondary escorts along with the military. It was awesome to feel appreciated that way, and to know that we’d really made a difference there.”

“When was this?” Karina asked.

“My first mission trip. Four years ago.”

“Your very first one?” Jennifer exclaimed. “I’d imagine having such a scary experience might have made you think twice about going on another one.”

“Life can be pretty scary in the US too. Can’t let it keep you from living.”