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2
I stride out of my office in a heat of frustration, even if she is a woman, I don’t want to meet the new member of my team, instead, I want to be doing all the other important things that need to be done this morning followed by a seriously large cup of coffee.
I haven’t had time to formulate an idea of Dr. Arya Harris in my mind, but if I had, she would have not been the woman that is sitting in the bright open waiting room of the Cardiovascular Department. It is a joke amongst doctors that when you finally finish your studies and your training, you add some letters after your name and ten years to your appearance. Working and studying for most of your adult life in a fast-paced high-stakes environment certainly does no favors in regards to greying hair or the bags under your eyes.
Dr. Arya Harris defies that. If I didn’t trust in Jim’s ability to confirm her references and credentials, I would have doubted that she was old enough to have even graduated. She turns as I approach and greets me with a small smile as she rises to stand.
She is around my height give or take an inch with long blonde hair that is pulled back into a high pony. The odd strand has escaped from the band and is in soft curls that frame her face. Her skin is so pale it shines like a creamy pearl under the strong fluorescent lighting and her eyes are the lightest of blues, so light they seem almost silvery at the right angle.
Her cheekbones would be the envy of a runway model, high and defined but instead of her beauty being intimidating it is softened by the gentleness of her nature. She exudes calm, her manner is gentle and full of care. I can tell instantly she will be a much loved doctor, and if her technical ability is there, she will fit into the team without a single issue.
“Dr. Sansus.” She smiles and I feel my heart beat faster as I hear my name slip from her lips. Her voice is soft too, barely a whisper, but she has the ability to make the world around her stop so you can hang on to every word she offers to you. “It is a pleasure to meet you, I can’t tell you much of an honor it is to be working alongside you.”
I feel like a bitch but I can’t shake the cold edge to my voice. I was already frustrated and now Dr. Arya Harris has thrown me. I feel uneasy, I am unsure what I am feeling and why I am feeling it. A swirl of complicated and mixed emotions that I have never felt before bubble as I reply curtly to her.
“Good to have you onboard, Dr. Harris. I know you have already been with us for a couple of weeks so I guess a tour would be unnecessary however, I do have a way of doing things. I like to have a balance. I am not here to micromanage you, but at the same time, I am here to guide, direct and assist. As we will be working together in situations where we are often not given second chances, I prefer that we take some time in less … intense surgical scenarios. That can be a few hours per week during consultations, surgical assessments, and if you are taking part in the educational program, some time with that too. How does that sound to you?”
If my tone and directness throws her, she doesn’t show it. If anything, she seems to shine under my direct authority. She offers me a nod and a resolute smile. “Absolutely, this is why I am here. To work and learn from the best, but please, call me Arya.”
Before I can answer Jim responds with a clap, rubbing his palms together with a gleeful smile, clearly feeling himself let off the hook. “Didn’t I tell you, Juliet, Arya is going to fit right in, well she already has. Everyone is so happy she is on board, just as you are. Well, I had better get going. I will leave you two to get better acquainted.”
He bustles off and as he heads around the corner, I let the sigh I have been holding escape and my eyes roll. Arya's lips curl at the corner, and I can see she is holding back a laugh.
“Jim is a great, but too chipper for me this early in the morning,” I respond wryly. “Okay, Dr. Harris I need to get some things done, the first priority being coffee. I apologize that I can’t dive right into things with you but …”
Arya cuts me off before I get into an explanation. “Please, Dr. Sansus, you don’t need to explain. It is your first day back and I am sure you have a hundred things to do. I won’t take any more of your time but let me say again how honored I am to be working with you.”
Arya Harris steps back before I have time to properly respond. Leaving our conversation on her terms, she turns and heads off down the hallway. She wears heels, and I watch as she tips taps gracefully, yet purposefully, along the bleached floor. She wears pants, not a skirt, but they look fitted, made just for her frame. The bottoms turn over so the bones of her ankles are on show, her slim delicate feet slip into soft creamy leather that matches and compliments her tan pantsuit. She wears a white shirt that is tucked smoothly into her pants and her jacket is draped over her arm.
She has a class that seems effortless. A style that I could spend hours trying to perfect only for it to seem like I was wearing someone else’s clothes. The way her hair is effortlessly swooped up, it would take me twenty minutes and it would never look like that. It isn’t just her physical appearance that plays on my mind as I head down to the cafeteria for my coffee. There is something about her whole demeanor. She is soft and sweet, the way she looked up at me with her long lashes and slightly pinked cheeks. She was nervous and confident all in one go and I find the turn of her lips as she held back her laugh plays on repeat on my mind.
But I am still pissed.
A nice smile and good sense of style does not make her a great surgeon. She is only a year or so out of her surgical residency. That doesn’t mean one thing or another but it will be my job to mentor her. I will need to work closely alongside her and I am still not happy that Jim has taken my choice away.
I do have a plan though; I will try and slide Arya more into the educational program. It will be a great way for her to establish herself and it will certainly boost her credentials. Plus, it won’t do any harm to have such a calm mannered fresh sweet face being the lead of the next resident group.
It is the logistics of that that are playing through my thoughts as I feel the buzz on my wrist alerting me to attend Operating Theatre 4.
I don’t know how many surgeries I have completed. Hundreds, thousands even, but the feeling in my stomach is always the same. Unrested.
The excitement comes, I love operating. Not many people in the world feel like this. I remember watching some operating scene on a TV show once with my parents. My mom nearly passed out and gave the this look of pure shock that I could do something like that as my job. And if I were to be honest, the show made it look a lot less … invasive than it is in reality.
But for me, I can’t imagine doing anything else. There are two parts to it. First is the science, the awe of what we can do as humans. How far we have come in the sense of what we can achieve. I have seen hearts that have stopped beat once more. I have watched arteries clear before my eyes. I have seen surgeons who have pushed themselves past the point of what seems humanly even possible to save a life.
The second is knowing that that heart belongs to a person. That they have family, friends, people in their lives who love them and who they love and for those moments in the operating theatre, their future and that of their family, depends on me and my team.
It is a double-edged sword. Sometimes I go home feeling the highest of the highs. A 5-year-old boy waking up with flushed cheeks and a pumping heart. A father hugging his children after a triple bypass. A young woman who has her whole life ahead of her, thanking me with bright sparkling eyes as she faces the whole world in front of her.
Then there are the days when even walking home seems a task too difficult. The weight of loss, the pain of failure too heavy to bear for that moment. I have learned how to cope, how to accept that I can’t save everyone, but in my role now as head of the department, I feel my team's pain too and it can make it a little harder. Knowing they did all they could … but the name is now etched on their own heart as a life they could not save.
It takes me 7 minutes to get from the canteen into surgery prep. We are at the cross over time. The on-call surgeon could stay to assist with the operation but I feel fresh and they have been working all night so I pull on my scrubs as Dr. Arya Harris steps into the theatre. She looks at me with surprise.
“Dr. Sansus, I didn’t expect …”
“I am here and the on-call surgeon is just about to leave for sleep. Better that I step in. Okay, let's have a look at what we have here today. This patient is in need of a Cardiomyoplasty they have already had thrombolysis with little effect. Okay …”
Work mode takes over. For three hours we work on our patient. Arya moves with me seamlessly, she anticipates my needs before I can direct her, she offers observations and updates seconds before I am about to ask. Her cuts are textbook, her fingers move without a hint of a tremble. The assisting staff have already connected with her and they follow her direction with no hesitation or doubt.
