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
Monday
It was only thirty minutes into my shift and I could stop staring at the clock in the corner of Dr Franz's office. It ticked away at a mind-numbing Pace that left me bereft in a sea of my boredom. Okay. Maybe that was a little dramatic but I was still waiting for my 10 o'clock appointment to show up.
Dr Carlson was in the OT with his staff and That left me in outpatient waiting patiently for the next lucky (or unlucky) patient that came my way.
I took a sip from my water bottle, contemplating if I should go and get a quick snack or not. One of the nurses——Samantha—— was nearby, busy on the phone scheduling appointments that would show up depending on their mood. Her soft and gentle voice provided some well-needed noise in an otherwise silent clinic. Two other nurses, a male and a female were hanging outside of the break room chatting about their exciting weekend.
I couldn't remember the last time that I had a fun weekend that didn't involve Pharaoh, ice cream, and my tv.
"Hey, Sam." I raised my head from the desk. "It's kinda a slow——-"
"Shhhh!" Sam dropped the phone and clamped her hand over my mouth, her other hand holding onto the phone. "We don't say the S word."
I smacked her hand away. "What word?"
"The S word!" Dr Carlson interceded from nowhere. He placed a neat pile of folders down, all of them colour coded and with little post-it sticking out from the margins. Behind him were the newest batch of interns, all of them frazzled "First rules of residency, We do not speak that word here." He said solemnly.
"What?" I raised a quizzical eyebrow, hoping they were joking and I wasn't about to invoke some thousand-year-old curse. "Slow? I mean, it kinda is a slow day. What's so bad about that?"
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, both of our pagers started to ping. Loudly. I pressed down a button to silence the abrupt and annoying sound, grimacing at my luck.
"Well, well, well." Dr Carlson drawled, giving me a smug look. "Would you look at that?"
Male, late thirties, gunshot wound to the chest, ETA 15 minutes.
Well...Isn't that just nice? And here I thought this day was going to be a boring one. I slid the pager back into my coat pocket and nodded at Kelly. "You know what to do. Get OT two prepped. Contact the floor below us and ask if they have the patient blood type available."
"You got it!" Sam flashed me a thumbs-up and ran in the direction of the operation theatre. The two nurses followed behind her, their coffees and weekend plan forgotten.
