After the Patient's Chest Opened, Colleagues Forced Me Out

1: 1

The heart transplant was about to begin. I took a deep breath and headed for the operating room.

Murray Gilbert, the department's deputy head, was scheduled to second-assist and see the case through with me.

But at the door to the operating room, he put out an arm and stopped me.

Bailey Whitfield, you can't go in.

I froze. "Why? The patient's already waiting."

Gilbert said coldly, "Hospital rules. No operating within twenty-four hours of drinking. You've been drinking."

I shook my head at once. "I haven't"

"I can smell it on you!" Gilbert cut me off, his voice suddenly rising. "One little tremor of the fingers after drinking, and the patient could die on the table. I'm looking out for the patient."

The clock was closing in on us. I forced my temper down. "Then I'll go to the lab and have my blood drawn. One test and you'll know whether there's any alcohol."

Gilbert didn't move aside. He looked at me with a contempt I'd never seen in him before.

"Bailey, do you want this surgery that badly?"

"The operation goes well, the credit and the glory are all yours. But you can't gamble with a patient's life."

Before he'd finished, the patient's family came running at the noise. The father grabbed my arm, crying. "Let a doctor who's been drinking operate? No way! We don't want you doing this surgery!"

Gilbert stood off to the side, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

The family caught me by the collar, shoving and hitting me. "You've gone too far. How could you drink before a surgery? Do you even care whether this patient lives or dies?"

Their shouting drew a crowd of other families over to watch.

Someone pulled out a phone and started quietly recording.

I held my patience and tried to explain. "You've got it wrong. I slept in the on-call room last night. I never drank anything."

"My colleague can vouch for me. I can go get him."

Hearing that, the family wavered, half believing me.

But Gilbert let out a cold laugh. "Everyone in this department knows how well liked Dr. Whitfield is."

"And who's this colleague of yours? Bought and paid for already, I'd bet."

"A text from you in a little while, or even just a look, and of course he'll cover for you."

That one remark made the family angrier.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and said urgently, "The surgical plan is already set. How can you switch surgeons at the last minute?"

"And we're almost at start time. I still need to change into my scrubs and scrub in. Every minute we lose is another minute of danger for the patient."

"Even if the patient could wait, the donor heart can't."

"Are you really willing to put the patient at risk?"

"Since you don't believe me, how about I go have my blood drawn and tested right now?"

But the family said, "Who has time to wait around for your test? We're demanding a different surgeon!"

"This hospital has plenty of doctors. You think nobody can be treated without you?"

Gilbert walked over, pleased with himself, and patted my shoulder. "Bailey, stop being stubborn. Respect the family's wishes."

My hands clenched into fists with anger. "If this turns into a medical accident, can you answer for it?"

Gilbert only sneered. "The accident would be because you were drinking. Why should anyone else answer for it?"

"Bailey, so young, and already so good at pushing the blame onto other people."

Right as the two of us were arguing, the deputy hospital director came over.

He said, startled, "Bailey, what's going on? The surgery's about to start. Why aren't you in the OR yet?"

Before I could speak, Gilbert jumped in first. "Bailey's been drinking. Per the rules, she can't operate within twenty-four hours."

2: 2

The deputy director hesitated, then turned to me, displeased. Bailey, what were you thinking? A surgery this important, and you drank?

I was almost in tears. Director, I really didn't drink.

I was on call for the first half of last night and slept in the dorm for the second half. I never left the hospital at all.

The deputy director shot Gilbert a look. You said just now that she'd been drinking. Did you see it?

Gilbert stumbled over his words. I didn't see it with my own eyes, but I smelled alcohol on her.

The deputy director's voice rose in anger. Ridiculous! One whiff and you can accuse a colleague of drinking? Then why didn't I smell anything?

He turned to me. Dr. Whitfield, I'm sorry to put you through this, but go to the lab right now and get your blood drawn. Better safe than sorry, and it'll shut everyone up.

I nodded and was about to go.

But Gilbert blocked my way.

He said to the deputy director, But the patient's family is demanding a different surgeon.

The deputy director's face went dark with rage. Gilbert, is this your first day as a doctor?

How many pre-op meetings has the department held for this surgery?

Bailey as lead surgeon, you as second assist. That was all settled.

How many times has the whole team run through the simulation? And now you want to swap people at the last minute? Is this a game to you?

Gilbert opened his mouth to say more, but the deputy director glared him into silence.

Then he said to me, Dr. Whitfield, go get your blood tested now. Leave the family to me, I'll explain it to them.

I nodded gratefully and ran flat out toward the lab.

Time really was tight.

When the lab tech heard I had surgery in half an hour, she got a shock.

She frowned. Has Gilbert lost his mind? Pulling something like this now, of all times.

Dr. Whitfield, I'll go as fast as I can, but the test procedure is fixed. Some of the steps I can't speed up.

I nodded.

The minutes ticked by while I paced back and forth outside the lab door.

One minute, two, three

The hands crept around the clock, and it felt like a year dragging by.

Then the tech spoke up. Dr. Whitfield, the result's in. You're clear.

I thanked her and ran back with the report.

There were twenty minutes left. If I moved fast, I had plenty of time to finish scrubbing in and prepping, and I was confident I could carry the surgery off perfectly.

When I reached the elevator, I saw Gilbert.

I shoved the test slip into his hand. I didn't drink. Feel better now?

But just as I was about to step into the elevator, Gilbert grabbed my arm.

He said coldly, Bailey, you and the lab people worked this out together, didn't you?

I froze. What?

He sneered. You swapped the blood sample, didn't you? Faked a clean result.

Let me make this perfectly clear. As long as I'm standing here, you are not getting into that operating room.

3: 3

I forced down the anger burning in my chest and said to Gilbert, "Then what do you want?"

"Are you really doing this for the patient? Or do you just want to go after me?"

Gilbert said loudly, "Of course I'm taking responsibility for the patient."

"Fine, you can go to the OR, but I'm going to supervise while you get your blood drawn and tested."

I checked my watch. Less than twenty minutes until the surgery.

I shook my head. "There's no time. Even if the results came back, there wouldn't be time to change into scrubs and scrub in..."

Gilbert folded his arms and said coldly, "So you do have something to hide. You don't dare draw blood in front of me, is that it?"

"Bailey, stop making excuses. You're just an irresponsible doctor."

I gritted my teeth. "Gilbert, if there's a medical accident, there's no way you walk away clean."

But Gilbert said coldly, "What I'm thinking about right now is the patient's safety. I'm not like you. My head isn't full of who's going to get blamed."

Right then, Dr. Finch came over.

I was instantly relieved. I grabbed his arm. "Quick, tell Gilbert. Weren't the two of us together all last night?"

Dr. Finch looked baffled. "Yeah, we were. What's this supposed to prove?"

I gave him a quick rundown, and Dr. Finch said, exasperated, "Bailey didn't drink at all. I can vouch for that."

"Director Gilbert, stop giving her a hard time and go do the surgery. If there's a medical accident, it'll wreck both your careers."

Gilbert said coldly, "You two arranged this ahead of time, didn't you? Otherwise how is it such a coincidence that Dr. Finch just happens to be passing by?"

Dr. Finch's face went red with fury.

Just then the elevator arrived.

I shook off Gilbert and stepped in first.

Gilbert moved to follow, and I shouted to Dr. Finch, "Hold him back for me."

Dr. Finch nodded and blocked Gilbert.

I made it to the OR without trouble.

The deputy hospital director was still waiting there. When he saw me, he let out a breath. "Well?"

Before I could answer, Gilbert had already come up the stairs after me.

He seized my wrist, his grip like a clamp, and a stab of pain shot through me.

He said loudly, "Her test result is fake, I'm sure of it. I demand she draw blood again, right in front of me."

The deputy hospital director couldn't take it anymore and roared, "Gilbert! Have you had enough?"

"The surgery's about to start. Both of you get into that OR right now, according to the original plan."

Gilbert wouldn't let it go. "But the drinking..."

The deputy hospital director said furiously, "Bailey did not drink. If anything goes wrong, it's on me!"

Gilbert reluctantly shut his mouth.

The patient's family member looked unsatisfied and said to the deputy hospital director, "Can't you swap out this woman doctor? We don't trust her."

The deputy hospital director soothed him. "Bailey is an extremely skilled surgeon. She's the best person for this operation."

"And Gilbert is her second assist. Isn't Dr. Gilbert the one you trust most? He'll be right there beside her."

Only then did the family member give a grudging nod.

Into the OR, into scrubs, scrubbing in...

Everything went smoothly.

However much I resented Gilbert, for the sake of the surgery I forced myself to calm down.

I said to Gilbert, "Whatever's between us, we settle it outside. In here we're one team, and we have to trust each other."

Gilbert nodded too. "Don't worry. I won't bring my emotions into work. That'd be doing the patient a disservice."

Hearing him say that, I let out a breath.

The surgery went smoothly. I opened the patient's chest cavity and prepared to remove the heart.

This was the step that tested skill the most. I steadied myself and started the incision.

Right then, I felt a sharp sting in my arm.

Startled, I quickly pulled the scalpel back.

Then I saw Gilbert holding a syringe, injecting something into me.

4: 4

Shock and fury hit me at once. I snapped at Gilbert, What are you doing?

But a cold smirk crossed his face. Dr. Whitfield, I've given you an anesthetic. Why don't you go sit down and rest.

My voice cracked with rage. What exactly do you want?

Before I could get another word out, my mind started to blur.

I wanted to speak, but my mouth would barely open.

Gilbert held me up and lowered me into a chair.

I slumped there, unable to move a muscle, with just enough consciousness left to see and to hear, but not to stop a single thing.

Everyone else was stunned too. They pressed him, Director Gilbert, what are you doing?

Gilbert said flatly, Bailey dropped into this hospital out of nowhere. She's been here less than a month, and already the administration keeps handing her critical cases. Doesn't that strike any of you as strange?

A nurse said, almost on reflex, A connected hire?

Gilbert nodded. I've seen plenty of hires like her. Not enough skill, but plenty of nerve.

If she botches a patient, someone will cover for her either way, so she's not afraid. But what about the patient?

As a doctor with a conscience, I refuse to let that happen.

The nurse beside him frowned hard. But the patient's chest is already open. What do we do now?

Gilbert sighed. I tried everything I could to stop Bailey outside the OR, and she still forced her way in.

But it's all right. There's still time.

Bailey can't operate now, so I'll take over.

The others hesitated.

Gilbert barked, What? You want to leave the patient lying open on the table, waiting?

They glanced at one another, and in the end they had no choice but to work with him.

But Gilbert's surgery was not going smoothly.

It was a highly difficult operation, and his skill was never up to it.

And in every dry run, he'd been second assist, never the lead surgeon.

Practice and drills were worlds apart, and everyone in the room felt it.

Then a nurse cried out, Director Gilbert, you've cut the patient's aorta.

Blood shot out and sprayed over all of them.

Then the monitors in the room began to alarm.

The nurse was nearly in tears. The patient's thrown an air embolism, Director Gilbert. What do we do?

Sweat pouring down his face, Gilbert forced a calm he didn't feel. Don't panic. Follow protocol. Give me the hemostat.

I could see it. Every one of their hands was shaking.

Half an hour later, Gilbert stopped and just stood there, deflated.

The others started to cry.

The patient had died on the table.

Someone said to him, Director Gilbert, this is all your doing.

You didn't follow what was agreed in the pre-op meeting. You anesthetized Bailey on your own, and that's why the surgery failed. You have to answer for it.

The others chimed in one after another. That's right, Director Gilbert. This malpractice is on you.

Gilbert looked at them, his face dark. Then why didn't you stop me? Why did you assist me with the surgery?

That left them all speechless.

Something vicious came into his expression. I've got a good way out of this now. I can help all of you shift the blame.

Right now, you delete the security footage and alter the surgical records.

We say the lead surgeon was Bailey. She was drunk, her hands were shaking, and she accidentally cut the patient's aorta, which caused the air embolism and the death.

That way, every one of us is in the clear.