Skyline

Prologue

People have always asked me why I wanted to be a doctor in the first place. Is it because of the Money? They always asked. Truth be told, it wasn’t. It’s that moment after surgery when the patient’s eyes open for the first time. The way their eyes are dull and unfocused, but as they wake up—it’s like they’re seeing for the first time. Like really seeing. It’s like they were asleep their entire lives and suddenly have woken up.

Their eyes shine in a way like never before. The heart monitor spikes as they realize what’s going on. Slowly as their anesthetic brain beings to function normally, they look at you. And it’s that look that makes me want to be a doctor. When they look at you as if you’re an angel sent from God; their own personal guardian angel.

It’s that moment when you save someone and give them their life back—that is what is so gratifying about being a doctor. Hope is replenished and their faith is restored.

But then there’s the downside. When you can’t save the patient…it’s indescribable. The pale room filled with a long, never ending beep. That is the unmistakable moment as you stand next to your dead patient—knowing you failed.

A scalpel in your hand and blood soaking your gloves; there’s that moment where you freeze with horror stricken across everyone’s face, including yours. That moment when the nurse goes,

“Time of death: ten-sixteen p.m.”

And in that moment, you can barely register yourself as you strip off the gloves. Throwing them in a biohazard bin, you start to head down the hall. It seems endless at first and all you can really come to terms with is that your heart is racing. Your mind is flashing with thoughts of ‘what do I say?’ And all too soon, you stand in front of a family; worry written across their faces practically surrounding them.

It’s that horrible question that escapes their mouths when they see you.

“Is everything okay?”

And in that moment, you find yourself answering them.

“We’re sorry…There were complications in the surgery…”

In that moment when you can’t finish as everyone around you suddenly realizes where you’re going with this. An agonizing cry pierces the room and the sadness is palpable. It’s a deep melancholy and you can’t escape it. Because you’re the reason their dead—it was your fault for not being able to complete it successfully.

All of this races in my mind as I struggle to answer the question before me. It’s a woman who asked. Her face looking expectantly for an answer that seems lost.

”I became a doctor,” I said finally, gazing into the woman’s eyes with certainty, “Because when someone’s dying—that’s when everyone starts to care. And I want to save my patients so I can give everyone a reason to keep on caring.”

- - -

But never would I have suspected that I’d meet the love of my life during surgery. And that, he’d be on the brink of death.