Romancing Dr. Bailey

Can't Get Used to Losing You

Miranda Bailey stood in the O.R. Her patience was waning. A simple procedure on a patient, Joan, had now gone on way longer than necessary. The phone in the room rang and Bokhee answered it. "Dr. Bailey." The nurse put the phone up to her ear.

"Yeah... okay... wow. Okay," she said, giving a nod to Bokhee to end the call. "Okay, everyone, listen." All heads and eyes turned to her. "We're locking down the O.R. All non-essential personnel must leave now."

"Was that pathology?" Stephanie Edwards asked.

"It's necrotizing fasciitis."

Heather Brooks' eyes popped open. "The flesh-eating bacteria?"

"In the flesh," Miranda responded, smirking beneath her mask at her own joke.

After finally finishing in the O.R., the three of them walked toward the patient's room. "Dr. Bailey, are we going to have to amputate the leg?" Brooks whispered.

Miranda was quiet as they stepped into the room and delivered the news to Joan's husband, Wade. He paced the floor. "What? Wait, flesh-eating... I mean, this is some kind of joke, right?" Miranda stared at him. "Did Joan put you up to this?"

"No, it's not a joke," Edwards said.

"We may have to amputate," her fellow resident said.

Miranda cut her eyes at the girl. "Brooks," she hissed. "I'm sorry, Wade. I know this... it's scary, but amputation is not the only option."

Wade looked hopeful. "Really?"

"But," Brooks continued. And Miranda wanted to strangle her. "It's the only sane option." Internally, Miranda shook her head. The residents changed, but they never learned how to read a damn room. The girl turned to Wade. "Excuse me, if we don't get this infection under control immediately, she is going to die."

Wade looked between the doctors, begging for answers to questions he hadn't yet posed. "Is there another option?"

Miranda nodded. "Edwards."

The woman made a face and inhaled. "Well, we can try to save the leg by cutting out the infection. It won't be pretty, but we might be able to keep it functional."

"Can I go see her?"

"There's no time really," Brooks responded.

"Wade, by the time we take her out of anesthesia and put her back under... I'm sorry, but you need to make a decision now," Edwards told him.

"Uh, I mean, she runs marathons. We're on our honeymoon. It's... it's who she is."

Miranda nodded firmly. "Then we'll do everything we can to save the leg."

Out in the hall and on the way back to Joan, Miranda faced her residents. "We give our patients and their family every bit of hope that we have to give." She looked from one young woman to the other. "There is no need, no reason to dash the hopes of a family. We give them everything we have and then some." Miranda kept Brooks by her side as Edwards walked off. "And the next time you feel like your opinion on a patient needs to be heard over mine, you'll be finding a new place to do it." Back in surgery, they worked quickly to extract the bacteria from Joan's leg. It was tiring, but rewarding work and Miranda was happy to tell Wade that his wife would be okay, and with therapy, long and painful that it may be, she could return to the thing she loved to do most. Miranda pulled off her scrub cap after stepping out of the room. Browsing through her phone, she found the message from Karev that she'd ignored earlier. Looking at it, she saw that it detailed some of the moving pieces surrounding the Championship game in a couple of days. There was practice the next night. She frowned. Over the last week, their team had played two games, winning both, advancing them to the final round. They were going up against a team they'd played before, "Trauma Drama". And Miranda was sure they'd be harder to beat the second go around. She was happy they'd made it so far, but, in her eyes, the season couldn't be over fast enough. Passing by Callie's office, she stopped in to say hi. Seeing Arizona poking her head up from behind the desk, Miranda's face got red. "Oh, sorry," she said rushing out of the room and almost running into Joshua Moore. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she was just too exhausted to do so. "Sorry about that; guess I wasn't paying attention," he said slipping his phone into his pocket.