Nurses' Station
"Sorry about earlier."
Christina apologized to Nurse Debbie, whom she'd rubbed the wrong way before.
"It's not that hard to show us a little respect, you know?" Debbie said with a hint of sass.
"We're all coworkers here—mutual respect should be a given," Adam chid in with a grin, smoothing things over.
"That's the real reason Dr. Duncan's so popular," Debbie said, laughing. "It's not just that he's the best—it's because he's the kindest too!"
Christina watched Adam and Debbie trade complints like they were in so corporate love-fest. Inside, she was rolling her eyes so hard they might've gotten stuck, but she kept her face neutral. Adam's story from earlier had really hit her hard. She couldn't shake the feeling that the senior doctor he'd talked about was basically her in a nutshell. If it were her, she'd have done the exact sa things—snapping at a nurse she didn't vibe with when she was in a bad mood? Totally normal. Refusing to back down after? Oh, that was a given. She was a doctor, after all—high and mighty!
But what she hadn't seen coming was how nurses could pull sneaky, roundabout moves to get back at her—and totally get away with it. She had no choice but to swallow her pride and apologize. Sure, she was proud, but she wasn't dumb. Risking her career over a bruised ego? Only an idiot would do that.
"Alright, this severe diarrhea case—I'll call another doctor to handle it," Debbie said, practically glowing from Adam's flattery. At his nudge, she finally let the grudge go.
"Thanks!" Christina perked up. This didn't just an she was off the hook for endless grunt work—it also ant she could snag her first adult male teratoma removal surgery. Score!
"Go for it!" Adam urged, even more pumped than she was. With surgery schedules clashing, this was a chance to cut losses and turn a profit—big ti.
Christina nodded, a grin spreading across her face as she bolted off.
Hospital Room
Adam was doing a pre-op check on Mrs. Griswold.
"Alan, make sure they take that tube out of my throat right after surgery…" Mrs. Griswold was, as usual, nagging her husband with a laundry list of demands.
"Take a break, huh?" Mr. Griswold muttered.
"What did you just say?!" Her voice shot up a full octave.
"You've got surgery soon—rest up and stop talking for a bit," he said again, head down, after a long pause.
"What, I can't even talk now? Oh, that's rich! You're sick of , aren't you? You're unbelievable…" Mrs. Griswold exploded.
"Shut up!"
This ti, though, her husband—who'd been a pushover his whole life—didn't just sit there and take it like he always had. He lifted his head and roared at her, his voice growing louder until it cracked with exhaustion. "I said shut up! You complain to
all day, bla , nag —every single day! Can't you just be quiet for once?! Even just for a minute?! Can't you go one second of your life without yapping?!"
"Mr. Griswold, please calm down!" Adam had sensed trouble the mont he started talking and tried to intervene. A heart patient couldn't handle that kind of outburst.
But an honest man losing it? There was no stopping him.
Beep beep beep.
The monitor's alarm blared.
Mrs. Griswold—either from anger or shock—clutched her chest, gasping for air.
"She's having a heart attack!"
"Four milligrams of morphine!"
"Start nitroglycerin—ten micrograms per minute!"
"Get the OR on the line—notify Dr. Green!"
"Move fast, people—we're heading to surgery now!"
Adam took charge, cool as ever.
"It's all my fault," Mr. Griswold said, snapping out of his rage. Seeing his wife like this, guilt washed over him.
Adam glanced at him but didn't say anything. Yeah, he'd triggered this ss, no doubt. But knowing their situation, Adam got it. Still, he wasn't about to toss out a "Don't worry, she'll be fine" to comfort him. That heart—already through three surgeries—was now facing its fourth, under local anesthesia no less, since they couldn't risk it stopping again. No one could predict how it'd go. And even if Adam was 100% sure, he wouldn't say it. Giving hope only to crush it later? That's the cruelest move—and the fastest way to get sued. No pro doctor would risk it.
Operating Room
"Huh, Mrs. Griswold's holding up way better than I expected," Adam said, surprised, as he opened her chest.
"Yeah," Leonard agreed from his usual spot as first assistant, giving Adam the lead. He took a look and nodded. "So people are just built tougher. Most wouldn't survive their first surgery, but here she is, powering through her fourth—and she'll keep going strong."
"Wonder if Mr. Griswold's happy or bumd about that," Adam quipped.
"He's too stuck in his ways," Leonard said, shaking his head. As Mrs. Griswold's primary doc, he knew their family inside out. "If he'd been braver, it wouldn't have co to this. Half her bossiness? He enabled it."
The anesthesiologist and nurses exchanged smirky, gossipy glances.
"Back up!"
In a split second, everything changed. Adam kicked into overdrive—like bullet ti in a movie. A spark flared from the cauterizing tool in his hand. He shoved Leonard, who'd been hunched over the sa spot, out of the way.
Leonard stumbled, totally thrown off. "What the—?"
"Red alert!" A nurse shouted as the room's temp gauge screeched.
Boom! A fireball erupted from Mrs. Griswold's chest. If Adam hadn't pushed Leonard, that fla would've hit him square in the face.
"Activate fire protocol!"
"Saline! Wet towels!"
"Cut the power!"
"Shut off the oxygen!"
"Grab the airbag—assist breathing!"
"Anyone not needed, get out now!"
Adam barked orders, dousing the fire with saline, slapping on a wet towel, and moving fast to stop the bleeding. Shockingly, Mrs. Griswold took it like a champ. Her vitals stayed rock-solid—better than most young, healthy hearts could've managed.
"You caught that before the alarm?" Leonard—used to chaos—recovered quick, jumping back to assist. Once they stabilized her, he voiced what everyone was thinking.
"I've got decent eyes," Adam said with a grin, stitching up the heart. "Reflexes aren't bad either."
Everyone else: "…"
Oh, and speaking of clutch moves—pat-reon:belamy20—this is the kind of drama that keeps us on our toes, right?
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