Dr Meera Saravana has been on the run for the last ten years due to a fatal misunderstanding. She ends up in New York, hoping that maybe this time everything will work out. But that's turning out to be impossible the more she gets involved with the...
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MEERA
The two-week period came and went, basically ensuring my new job and my role in the ER.
It was on the third week that I got asked the dreaded question.
"How old are you?" Dr Carlson asked me as I was sorting through some of the patient's files. I flipped one over, marking it down as completed before picking up the next one.
"Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady's age, Doctor?" I said without looking up. "I thought you had a surgery in about half an hour. Shouldn't you be getting ready for that?"
He chuckled. "Answer the question, Doctor."
"Would my age affect your view of my capabilities?" I raised my eyebrow at him. He only looked at me with inquisitive eyes. "I passed your two-week mark."
"No, but I am curious. Sue me. I'm an old man with a curious mind."
"You're only halfway to forty."
"Exactly. I'm practically ancient." He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced down at his cup. "This takes like shit."
"That's why you don't do decaf." I picked up my cup and pulled a sip. Mmmm, sugar. Nothing woke you up like a cup of coffee and a shit ton of sugar but it didn't beat a hot cup of tea with honey.
"Next time I'll get that overpriced fancy blend." He got up and poured the cup straight into the sink. "This is what I get for getting the bargain blend. Disappointment."
The day had started with a bag, two patients who had been stabbed. The nurses had scrambled around, trying to staunch the bleeding by the time Haley and I got there. Patient one was passed out in the ward with an IV of saline slowly being administered into his system. Patient two was in the ICU with his punctured lung.
I wondered what would happen to him after he woke up. Would he be allowed to leave? Would he go into rehab? Would we refer to someone more credible? Dr Carlson said that we would take care of him. Whatever that meant.
Vague was the new black I guess.
I better get used to it. It wasn't my place to ask questions unless they were medically motivated.
It surprised me how normal everything was. I thought a hospital operated by the Farewells would be a little bit more seedy than normal.
Several patients came in through the thick vault door as the day progressed on. Most of them looked so mundane that you wouldn't think to associate them with a crime family like the Farewells.
There was one gentleman with a sliced open finger, he had cut himself in a fight. Another lady with a broken foot got down at the docks. And a lot of people with concussions and bruises from fights.
Almost all of them were trauma based—usually from fights and skirmishes of some kind.
Emergency care wasn't the only service provided. Several men and women came here for a general check-up and psych evalves. I was slowly learning that this place wasn't any normal hospital.
