The Sidewalk Incident

3. The Juice Cleanse Incident

I feel like one of those birds in the rainforest, prancing about for the approval of a mate. Except it's not a mate I'm looking for. It's the approval of my colleagues and staff.

An all white power suit felt like the statement I didn't know I needed to make, as a I get a few nods of such approval. And my dad may have been onto something; suddenly the female staff members aren't looking at me with utter contempt and fear.

Instead, I'm met with smiles (nervous smiles but smiles nonetheless), compliments that didn't feel like brown-nosing and one or two actual words from people I have only ever yelled at before.

"Black is too domineering. Red is too sexy. And blue is too regal. Stick to nudes and whites. Unless it's a power suit; wear those in any colour of the rainbow and you will slay." That was Aunt Ava's advice when I sent her a message thanking her for sending Sebastian some of her old stuff. "I hope they fit, you're a lot taller than I am. And skinnier. So there are some brand new pieces for my favourite goddaughter. Please start eating better, Olly is worried. We'll see you at the race next month?"

I send a quick thanks and thumbs up before heading into my ward rounds, fluffing my hair, which I woke up an hour earlier to straighten, over the collar of my white doctors jacket as I walk into one of the private rooms, careful Ron not trip over my nude pumps.

"Morning Zander, remember me? I'm Dr. Owen." A cute kid with his two front teeth missing smiles back at me nervously. His parents look worse for the wear. And Zander, quite frankly, looks yellow.

"So, the new liver isn't taking. The blood results confirm it. There's a mild infection in one of the connecting bile ducts."

"What does that mean?" The mom asks.

"The body is rejecting the liver." I answer bluntly.

"How? Why?"

"The immune system is aware that there's an unfamiliar or unknown body. So it's fighting against it. Prior to the transplant operation, we discussed that this could be a possible complication. It's also not uncommon nor rocket science."

James has been playing Uno cards with Zander this entire time, and he clears his throat. He looks up at me, and visibly does a double-take, raising his eyebrows in evident surprise at my new work attire, before using his hand, subtly telling me to soften my tone.

"But all is not lost," I attempt to say cheerfully. "We've picked up the infection in time so we are going to do a series of antibiotics and an antiviral drug just in case. We'll run those for the next twelve hours and take it from there."

James gives a thumbs up, and I'm glad I wasn't too abrupt.

Sometimes it's easier to dissociate, especially when tiny humans are involved. As the best trauma hospital in the country, with one of the most reputable pediatric units, being a trauma doctor here means seeing some heartbreaking cases. So it's easier to see these kids as a case, a patient, an operation, a transplant recipient. The less emotive the better.

Just then, Zander's mother makes a comment. "Well, thanks." She scoffs sarcastically, the eye roll exaggerated dramatically by her fake lashes. "Pat, I told you, we should have just done a gut and liver cleanse."

"Let it go, Charlotte." James begs, instantly at my side and beckoning me towards the nearest exit.

"Seriously. My yoga instructor told us it worked like a charm for her—"

"Excuse me?" I start.

"Dr. Owen—" James attempts. Before—

"Yes, how about we all forego modern medicine because your alcoholic yoga instructor suggested a juice cleanse to aid your son's enlarged liver. And let's just hope a kale and beetroot juice cleanse will aid his little immune system, which has already taken a beating due to recurrent illness for the past two years. So all the best with the green juice and essential oils. I'll process Zander's discharge documents and leave him in the care of your yogi who clearly knows something my Harvard professors knew nothing of."