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“Glad to be here,” I reply.
We make our rounds and then prep for the first surgery of the day, but as we’re about to enter the operating room, I look back and see my father looming by the nurse’s station. Scott senses my hesitation and turns around as well.
“So, this is how it’s going to be now? Big brother is watching,” he sneers.
“Maybe it’s just for today,” I say, wishing that it might be true. “Once he’s satisfied that we can work together professionally, he’ll stop. He has too many other things to do.”
When we come out of surgery, I scan the hall for my father and he isn’t there. I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t know how long Scott will be able to hold his temper if my father continues to prod the bull. We just need to do our jobs and go home. My rotation will be over soon, and then my father won’t have any excuse to disapprove of our relationship.
We’re about to change out of our scrubs when Scott gets paged to the nurse's desk. He speaks to the nurse on duty and then picks up the desk phone. His expression goes blank and he turns and looks at me, so I rush to the desk to find out what’s going on.
“What’s your ETA? Alright, we’ll be ready and waiting,” he speaks into the phone then hangs up.
“Is there an emergency coming in? Should I scrub back in?” I search his face for answers.
“There’s an emergency coming in but you can’t scrub in with me.” He places his hand on my shoulder and I instinctively look at the nurse to gauge her reaction. I don’t want her to start any gossip that will get us in trouble with my father. Her expression confuses me. She looks concerned.
My mind races and I ask, “Who is the patient?”
“Skylar, it’s your father. He left the hospital for a lunch meeting and had a heart attack in the restaurant. The ambulance brought him in ten minutes ago. They’re sending him up for surgery. He needs an emergency bypass.”
I hear the words but it takes a moment for them to sink in. “I want to be in there with you.”
“No. You’ll be too emotional. It’s unethical and dangerous for you to be in there,” he tells me. “I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”
He embraces me and I lose all composure proving his point.
“Don’t cry, little girl. I’m going to fix him for you. I swear it with all my heart. I have to go scrub in. He’s on his way up. I’m sorry, baby.”
“I know,” I whimper. “I’ll be out here waiting.”
He rushes into the scrub room and I try to compose myself. Moments later, the elevator door opens and the orderlies wheel my father out. He’s intubated and already anesthetized. I grasp his hand and walk beside the gurney to the operating room doors. They wheel him inside and I feel my heart sink into my stomach. I told him he was working too hard and that he wasn’t eating right. Why didn’t he listen?
I take a seat in the waiting area and watch the clock. Without complications, this surgery should take about three hours. Any longer than that and something has gone terribly wrong. I look up and see Doctor Smith at the nurse’s station and realize that if the ER had called up thirty minutes later, he would be the one operating on my father right now. He notices me and walks over.
“Skylar, I’m very sorry. I know you must be worried but Doctor Statton is the best man to be in that OR with your dad. He’s going to be fine,” he tells me.
I’m impressed that he would give Scott such a compliment after their altercation. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Do you need anything? I can run to the cafeteria for you or go out and get you something else if you’d like.”
“No, thank you,” I reply. I should be hungry, but I’m filled with anxiety and can’t focus on anything else right now.
“It’s going to be a while. Of course, you know that. If you change your mind, just let me know. I’ll be here all night.” He starts to walk away then stops in his tracks. “I’m sorry about what happened last week, Skylar. I hope that there aren’t any hard feelings.”
“Thank you, Doctor. There aren’t.” I wonder if he would have made this apology if my father wasn’t critically ill, but it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that Scott saves my dad.
Time stands still for me as I watch the clock. Both physically and emotionally spent, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep in the hard waiting area chair. At some point, someone came by and laid a blanket over me, but I have no idea who or when.
As I sleep, I begin dreaming but not about my father. Like all of my dreams lately, it’s about Scott. We’re together somewhere outside and we’re making love in the grass. I can almost feel the breeze on my bare breasts as my body rises and falls on top of him. The afternoon sun casts its rays on his face and chest illuminating him and causing him to look even more like a being from some other world. I’m getting close to climax and he rises up and kisses me deeply, probing my mouth with his tongue. Everything is perfect—from the warm breeze to the soft grass and the way the sun feels on my shoulders. Scott is also perfect. He always is when he makes love to me in my dreams.
Scott shakes my arm gently and I practically leap out of the chair. It takes a moment for me to leave the meadow and come back to reality.
“How is he?” I gasp, not knowing how much time has passed.
“He’s stable. His incision is closed and he will be moving to the ICU shortly,” Scott replies. “We’ll keep him there for a few days.”
I throw my arms around him and cry, “Thank you.”
