The fall of a New York hospital

The Fall of the New York Hospital

The car shuddered, fighting the sinking drifts of snow accumulating on the road that the sky seemed to dispel while grieving its own losses. Nothing interrupted the quiet clamor of the radio announcer, "And he's running, he's almost there, and ooooh, down at the 2 yard line! And the clock runs out! Looks like it's over for the-." I switched off the radio with a swift hand and refocused my attention on the glaring red light in front of me. A moment of peace and quiet was impeded by a phone ping, followed by another one. I picked up, still annoyed that my silence had been broken.

"Hello?" I posed in a monotone voice.

"You're the one intern that I've been told is always late, right?" A gruff voice replied. I winced,
"Yes, I'm on my way. There was a car crash a couple miles back which slowed down the traffic. When will we start?"
"The patient will be put under anesthesia in 15. Hurry and scrub in." He quipped, clearly unable to comprehend the inability of mine to drive 15 over the speed limit to get to work.

I pulled into the brightly illuminated hospital and tires screeching, parked, and ran into the revolving doors with a swish. I wasn't ready for the sight I beheld. The lofty ceiling held posters featuring "Heart Healthy in NYC" and bright colors dominated the walls and floor. As I scurried into the lobby, I saw children connected to oxygen tanks walking hand-in-hand with their sisters. A new mother cradled her firstborn son in her arms as she sauntered out the doors I just rushed through. A gurney and accompanying EMT's blasted through the ER doors. An ever lingering odor of rubbing alcohol tainted the air and a slightly underlying hint of freshly printed paper accompanied this. The symphony of experiences assailed my senses and formed a beautiful cacophony from the seamlessly organized chaos. I realized that I had subconsciously stopped breathing as I ran pell-mell up the escalator and straight into a poor passerby.

"How stressed do you have to be to be running around in 4-inch heels?" I look up to see ocean blue eyes speckled with gold dust. His skin was a shimmery tan that set off the aquamarine of his irises just right. I also noticed the blonde highlights at the tips of his hair, gracing them with a unique sheen.

"Only stressed enough to be missing my first liver transplant." I glanced up quickly past his chin to meet his eyes.

"Ouch, good luck! I'm Jasper by the way" he commented, looking at me, only breaking his stare when he unwittingly tripped at the top of the escalator. I mumbled that my name was Irene and continued my rush to the transplant ward. I threw off my coat, revealing that I was already clothed in lavender scrubs. I rushed to operating room 7 and thrust my hands into frigid water followed by smooth soap across my hands, wrists, and forearms. I felt Hades's Chill as my hands reentered the freezing water, and the scent of rubbing alcohol assailed my senses. I finished, put on my surgical gown, splatter shield and gloves, I breathed a deep breath, counted 1. 2. 3, and with the prayer that I looked collected, entered the OR.

The freezing air hit me like a wall, and the scent of ethyl alcohol, once lingering, was now in full force. 6 other people turned to look at me, each identical in their surgical gear. The head surgeon gave me a nod of recognition and turned back to the patient, announcing in a clear, slightly British accented voice:

"Now that everyone is here, I'll start the first incision." Hours passed like minutes as the surgeon carefully maneuvered through the patient's web of veins, arteries, and nerves in the abdominal cavity to reach the liver riddled with cirrhosis from hepatitis C.

"I will now remove the liver. How far is the donor liver? Please place the patient on dialysis and cardiopulmonary bypass." My hands and the hands of others worked together in perfect synchronization to perform the tasks he requested to the most meticulous degree.