Open Heart {Under Revision}

Chapter 5- Just Stomach It

Landry and I, having no permission to protest, followed Dr. Ramsey like two little invisible interns, staying a safe distance of two meters away from just in case he decided that we hadn't had received enough of his reprimand and needed more. Also, there was no way I would ever walk into that magnetic trap of his or notice the ridiculous sublimity of his walk. Like Apollo! How could a walk be so...dramatically perfect?

And it wasn't just his walk. It was cumulatively everything about him which spared nobody, literally nobody from glancing up from their tasks to glimpse his passing form. He walked for the eyes to behold. His shoulders moved powerfully like his self—imposing like a leader, like a man of authority. A man charged to protect and save lives. There were leaders whom you always looked up to—born leaders, gracing pages upon pages in history that there was no requirement for me to recite their immortalized names. And Dr. Ramsey felt like one of them. There was no doubt he would be remembered for his works and research which he cited collectively in several papers and wrote a book which was now the best diagnostic volume of this century.

When I became aware of him, he had already achieved so many things including an Adeymi award at an impossible age—making him by far the youngest doctor in world and history to ever receive. Since my pre-med time, he had given me hopes that there were people like him who viewed this medical world differently, away from the monotonous expected career path. And since then, his inspiration has been my anchoring guidance until...I met him.

Don't despire, Cherie, try to learn from him as much as you can!

But even with such fame, was there a place to live normally after? He certainly seemed so encapsulated in his perfect casket of condescending attitude that every critical bullet fired upon left him unbothered. People dared not to fire after him, not anymore. And nor should I by any means. His attitude was his shelf, none of my concern. I just wanted to complete my residency under my idol before moving away.

Now that's a good plan.

If only it was that easy.

He led us back to the room where Andre was present, pushing the door with movements ever-so gentle as if he didn't want to startle the patient. When we entered inside, a female nurse was inside as well, having brought my patient some food. GERD wouldn't make you feel like eating anything because your whole esophagus would be on fire which was why I had specifically told the nurse to bring a cold soup of vegetables along with ginger tea and thankfully, they had brought it...properly this time.

Sensing us in room again, Andre lifted himself up with slight wince before converting it into a smile. He has been by far one of the most cooperative patients here, unlike his neighbors from yesterday morning who thought they had cancer instead of scabies and hollered around ER in their native dialect.

The nurse who was about to hand the bowl just became stuck in her path, taken by momentary surprise of Dr. Ramsey's sudden presence. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe, as if she had never seen someone so alluring before—or perhaps had seen but somehow he managed to become even more. She stared for full five seconds before looking away with red creeping on her pale cheeks. Her hands were slightly wobbly when she handed the bowl and it was not because of nervousness. Why? Did you forget that Dr. Ramsey absolutely respected nurses— that's why and I certainly had no problem with it. But her behavior just made me roll my eyes internally.

"Doctor Turner?" Andre asked me, "Is something wrong vith me?"

Before I could reply, Dr. Ramsey glanced back at me and Landry for a measured moment before replaying to our patient, "Don't be concerned. These two are going to evaluate and present you again before me. Please carry on with your lunch."