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Looking through the thick glass of the observation gallery, I saw my father step back from the operating table and hand the surgical instruments to a waiting nurse.
"Okay, that's as far as I can go for now. Let's start cooling him."
His voice was clear and firm, even though I could only hear it through the speakers.
The surgical nurses and assistants immediately began placing packets of ice cubes on Joe's torso in preparation for the high-risk standstill surgery.
My father, now standing a few feet away, paced nervously. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of responsibility weighing on him.
He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and took a deep breath. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a glimpse into the human side of a surgeon often seen only as an invincible hero.
When he opened his eyes again, our eyes met unintentionally. He froze for a moment, his expression hard to read, but I sensed a kind of alarming realization.
Beside me, Izzie noticed my eyes fixed on the OR. "Does he often tell you about his surgeries?" she asked, watching as the team continued to cool Joe down.
I looked away, my heart beating a little faster-not out of concern, but out of an old, familiar anger.
"I used to," I replied curtly, "but he hasn't spoken to me in a year."
"A year?" Izzie asked, her voice filled with disbelief. It seemed to irritate her that there was such a rift between McDreamy and me.
"Why not? Did something happen?"
"Long story," I said, focusing on the scene below.
I didn't want to go into details, not here, not with someone I barely knew. It was easier to keep the anger than to explain the disappointment.
Izzie, clearly wanting to know more, pressed on. "Is it because of his career?"
"Partly," I said, crossing my arms. "But mostly because he's an arrogant jerk."
I noticed Alex glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, a hint of amusement on his face.
Meanwhile in the OR, my Dad began to perform surgery again, his movements fluid, as if every move he made was crucial-which it probably was.
It was both fascinating and disturbing to see him like that, so focused and confident, knowing that the same man who was saving lives over there had failed to keep our family together.
"He looks pretty focused, doesn't he?" muttered Alex, who had been sitting next to me, listening to the exchange between Izzie and me.
His voice was neutral, almost disinterested, as if he just wanted to break the silence.
"Yes, he always is. He loves to play the hero," I replied, my tone sharp, almost taunting.
My father continued to work, his expression focused and stern, while I thought about how strange it was to see him like this - so close and yet so distant, connected to me by blood but alienated by his choices.
"Not the best day to meet him, huh?" Izzie added.
"You could say it's never a good day for that," I replied dryly. We both turned our gaze back to the OR, an unspoken sympathy hanging between us.
Izzie nodded, then smiled at me, a smile that was somehow comforting despite the circumstances.
"Well, welcome to the club of the McDisappointed."
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