The Acute Coincidence

Chapter 7 - The Endless Questions

"Are you okay after doing sponging?" Zachary asked.

Zachary's sudden question surprised me, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of confusion. Why was he asking about my well-being after sponging? Was there something I had missed or overlooked during the task? Despite my puzzlement, I offered a reassured response, masking any hint of uncertainty.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, though the uncertainty lingered in the back of my mind.

Turning his attention back to the patient, Zachary efficiently attended to his duties, placing the medication cup on the cardiac table and encouraging the patient to take their medication after breakfast. But as his gaze shifted back to me, an inexplicable chill ran down my spine. Was it just my imagination, or did Zachary's eyes hold a hint of mischief beneath his surgical mask?

Before I could dwell further on the unsettling feeling, Zachary's voice broke through my thoughts, drawing my attention once again. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach - was he about to subject me to another round of questioning, just like yesterday?

"So..." Zachary's voice trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like a looming threat.

My heart sank as I realized what was coming next. "Oh no, not again," I thought, a sense of apprehension washing over me like a tidal wave. I braced myself for whatever interrogation lay ahead, summoning every ounce of resolve to withstand the impending onslaught of inquiries. Didn't that nonsense end yesterday? I wondered, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a simmering volcano, threatening to erupt at any moment.

Zachary's unexpected question jolted me out of my thoughts, and I felt a surge of panic rising within me. "Can you tell me what medication this is?" he asked, pointing to the small pill in the patient's hand.

My mind raced as I tried to come up with a response. How could he expect me to know the name of the medication when I had barely any experience administering drugs? The pressure mounted as I struggled to recall any relevant information from my training, but all I could muster was a shaky uncertainty.

"I... um, I'm not sure," I stammered, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

But Zachary wasn't satisfied with my response. His encouragement was forceful, almost taunting, as he pushed me to recall the information. "Come on, you know this. We always served this medication to the patient before food. Think hard, what is this medication called?" he urged, his tone tinged with amusement at my obvious discomfort.

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as the weight of my ignorance bore down on me. "Ahhh, I'm so damn screwed now," I thought, frustration and self-doubt swirling within me like a storm. It was far too early in the morning for this kind of stress, and I couldn't help but curse the situation silently in my mind.

"I will give you a clue. This medication is called omeprazole," Zachary said, offering a lifeline in the form of a hint.

"Oh, I see," I replied, my response lacking conviction as I tried to mask my embarrassment. Relief washed over me briefly, believing that the interrogation was finally over.

But Zachary had other plans. "Now that you know this is omeprazole, can you tell me what is the drug class?" he continued, his tone matter-of-fact as if he were merely stating a fact.

I stared at Zachary in disbelief, amusement flickering in my eyes as I fought to suppress a sarcastic retort. The expression on my face must have conveyed my incredulity, as I silently gave him the 'are you kidding me?' face, wondering if this questioning would ever end.

Summoning a surge of courage I didn't know I had, I met Zachary's gaze head-on. "Are you being serious now?" I asked, unable to contain my skepticism.

But instead of a lighthearted response or a hint of jest, Zachary's tone turned abruptly serious, his voice taking on a stern edge. "Do I look like I was joking to you?" he retorted, his words cutting through the air with an unexpected sharpness. The sudden shift in his demeanor caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless as I struggled to process his reaction.

I sighed, resigning myself to the inevitable, and finally offered an uncertain response, figuring it was better to at least make an attempt. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "Is it perhaps... an antacid?"

The words hung in the air, my guess feeling more like a shot in the dark than a confident assertion. I braced myself for Zachary's response, unsure of whether my answer would be met with approval or further scrutiny.

"No, it's wrong," Zachary responded, his tone firm and unwavering.

"Of course it's wrong, damn it," I thought bitterly, frustration bubbling up inside me. "I expected that much. I just said I legit don't know. Was he not listening?" I cursed at him silently in my thoughts, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation wash over me.

"Alright, I will just let you know. It's a proton-pump inhibitor. Commonly known as PPI. Come on, we learned this before. Was it in year 1 or year 2 pharmacology class? But we definitely learned this in our school before. How can you not remember?" Zachary's words stung with sarcasm, hitting me harder than I anticipated. Before I could respond, he briskly left without giving me a chance to reply.

As Zachary disappeared from my sight, I felt a surge of frustration and inadequacy wash over me like a tidal wave. His condescending tone sliced through my confidence, leaving me feeling small and incompetent. I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that I had let myself down, that I was somehow falling short of the expectations placed upon me.