A White Coat Is My Closet (33 page)

I threw my arm around her shoulder as we walked back toward the nurses’ station. “Well, comrade, let’s have at it, then. The enemy awaits.”

“Who’s doing the surgery, anyway?”

“Dr. Alfredo, the pediatric surgeon, is primary, which is a huge consolation because he’s brilliant, a great technician, and a nice guy to boot. He’ll be assisted by one of the surgeons who mostly works with adults. I heard it’s going to be Dr. Klein.” I made a sour face. “That’s always a pleasant experience.”

Diane laughed. “Oh yeah. He’s a prince.” She came to a standstill, brought her fist to her chin, and feigned looking pensive. “Let’s see, spend an hour in the operating room with Dr. Klein or stick needles in my eyes? Hmm. That’s a tough call. I’d have to ponder that one.” She laughed again, and we kept walking. “You’re convinced you want to be in there with him?”

I smiled but rolled my eyes. “I’m doing this for Christopher. But have the needles ready, just in case. I might change my mind.”

Thankfully, the morning went by without incident. All the patients were responding reasonably well to their therapies, and there were no unanticipated surprises. Diane was at my side at least every hour asking what she could do to help me finish up. Despite still being dead tired, I somehow managed to keep working relatively efficiently. That was one of the advantages to stress: the adrenaline worked as a stimulant.

By one thirty, I had managed to eat a plain bagel and drink another cup of coffee and was making my way to Christopher’s room. When I arrived, the transport attendants were already loading him onto a gurney. His parents stood vigilantly by his side, voicing words of encouragement to their son but clinging to one another for dear life. Yogi was tucked in next to Christopher on the gurney as well. I laughed silently when I saw that Yogi was wearing a red cape too. I looked over at his mom and gave her a thumbs-up. Then I stood over Christopher and ran my hand over his head. “Looks like my favorite team of superheroes is ready for a ride.” I then directed my comments to the attendants. “Guess I’d better warn you guys. These two travel at the speed of light. You’d better hold on tight.”

One of the attendants, who I recognized and knew had a reputation for being good with kids, jumped immediately at the prompting. “That’s what I’ve heard. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be able to take a ride with Superman. Now I don’t have to be the least afraid of running into any bad guys. Anyone gives us any trouble,” he said, as he touched Christopher lightly on the arm, “they’re toast! Thanks for keeping the hospital safe, Superman.”

Despite feeling completely demolished by the chemo and his failing liver, Christopher somehow managed to produce a small smile. “You’re welcome, but Yogi helps too.”

The attendant continued. “I guessed that the minute I saw his cape. Now I feel doubly safe. Let’s roll. Bad guys be warned: Superman and Yogi are headed your way.”

Christopher’s voice was so soft it almost couldn’t be heard. “When he’s wearing the cape, his name is Superbear.”

We stopped briefly in the holding area, and those of us who were continuing into the operating room donned surgical caps and shoe covers. Both his parents leaned over Christopher and covered him with kisses. They each held a hand, and his dad spoke to him gently. “You don’t worry about a thing. We’re going to be waiting right here the entire time. You’re just going to take a little nap, and before you know it, you’ll wake up and be right back in your room.”

Christopher stared back at them and asked earnestly, “Can’t one of you come with me?”

His parents looked at each other, but because his mom couldn’t trust herself to answer without sobbing, his dad again spoke up. “We want to, son, but the doctors said the room is super tiny. There just wouldn’t be enough space for all of us. And besides, Dr. Zack and Yogi are going to be there with you. They promised to help take care of you and report back the minute the other doctors are finished with you. Besides, we’ll use the time to help prepare a special surprise that will be waiting for you the second you wake up.” I knew that Christopher’s dad was scrambling to think of an explanation that would make their absence in the operating room acceptable to him, but what he said seemed to work. Christopher’s expression visibly relaxed.

“Is Dr. Zack going to be there too?”

I moved over, gently took Christopher’s hand out of his mother’s clutch, and squeezed it. “The whole time. What did I say about the three of us being a team? I’m not going to leave your side for a second, and Yogi is going to be guarding you even more carefully than me. We’ve got you covered, champ.” I looked up at the clock, noted the time, and also observed that the attendants were eager to get him into the room. “You ready?”

His voice was unconvinced but firm. “I guess so.”

Christopher’s parents gave him a few dozen more kisses, then hesitantly relinquished their hold on the gurney. When they were sure Christopher could no longer see their faces, tears began to cascade freely. As we pushed him toward the door of the operating room, I looked over my shoulder one last time. They stood arm and arm, waving as their son was wheeled away from them. It was fortunate they had one another to lean on, because I was certain neither of them could have stood independently. Looking at them made me realize I now truly understood what it meant to be brokenhearted.

We were within a few feet of the operating room when we were met by one of the nurses assigned to the case. She had a cheerful demeanor but was all business. “Good afternoon. You must be Christopher. I’m Maggie, and I’m going to be the nurse taking care of you. Guess today is my lucky day. They didn’t tell me I was going to be taking care of Superman.” She let her eyes take a survey of the gurney. “Oh dear, it looks like we have one too many passengers. Mr. Bear is going to have to disembark here.” She reached over to pull Yogi out of Christopher’s arms, but I gently blocked her hand.

“Excuse me. I’m Dr. Sheldon. Might I have a quick word with you a little out of supersonic hearing range?”

She looked indignant but followed me a few yards down the corridor anyway.

“Thanks, Maggie. Listen, I know that having his teddy bear with him breaks standard protocols, but he’ll only be holding it until the anesthesiologist starts to put him to sleep. The minute he’s out, I’ll personally take responsibility for being sure the bear is completely out of the room.” I found it difficult to keep the emotion completely out of my voice. “The past month has been really rough on this little guy, and having his bear with him is a huge asset in helping him to cope.”

Maggie looked sympathetic but was completely unmoved. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m sure he’s really attached to that bear, but an operating room is a sterile environment, and the bear is restricted from entering it. I’m sure you understand that I can’t make exceptions.”

I tried to suppress my anger but the culmination of sleep deprivation and cumulative worry made it exceedingly difficult. “I’m sorry too, Maggie, but I’m his doctor, and I’m saying that we are going to make an exception. One look at them, and it’s clearly evident that the little boy is no more sterile than the bear is. They’re inseparable. Taking the bear out of his arms now, before they even start the surgical prep, is not only medically unnecessary, but at this stage would be traumatic for him. I’m sure you can appreciate my position.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t care whose doctor you are. No one is above policy. It’s out of my hands.”

I stared at her and miraculously refrained from yelling. “It surprises me that someone with so little compassion ever decides to go into medicine.” I looked at her smugly. “You’re right about one thing, though. It is out of your hands. I’ve already confirmed it with Louise Whiting, the executive nurse who oversees the entire division of surgery. She assured me that as long as the teddy bear was removed from the room before any of the sterile drapes were placed, there would be absolutely no problem. Now, we can either conduct ourselves as feeling human beings and proceed with trying to save this little boy’s life, or you can make the call to your supervisor and get confirmation that what I’ve been trying to tell you is accurate.”

She pursed her lips but walked away without any additional argument. She turned to a guy whose name tag said Moses and stomped toward the door. “I’ll alert anesthesia that we’re ready to proceed.”

Moses was getting ready to scrub in preparation for assisting with the surgery. Because the sink was near where Maggie and I had been speaking, he’d overheard our entire conversation. As I walked near him, he offered me a bright smile but kept his voice a whisper. “Way to go, Dr. Sheldon. I’ve been a scrub nurse at this hospital for eight years and am intimately familiar with surgical protocol. There is absolutely no risk in having that teddy bear in there prior to hanging the drapes and opening the sterile packs of instruments. Thanks for standing up for him.” He glanced over his shoulder to look at Christopher lying on the gurney. “People can get so caught up in following rules they forget we’re here to tend to the needs of the patient. Looks like that little guy could use a break.”

I smiled back. “Thanks, Moses. I appreciate the support, and you’re absolutely correct. No one deserves a little extra consideration and caring more than a five-year-old who’s already been through hell. It’s the least we can do.”

At that point, Maggie came back, followed closely by Dr. Zoryan, the pediatric anesthesiologist. He approached the gurney and smiled warmly at Christopher. “Hey, little man, I’m Dr. Z, and I’m the guy lucky enough to be able to help take care of you while you’re down here dreaming. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be able to meet you. When Dr. Sheldon told me that he was going to be bringing the man of steel and Superbear down, I didn’t believe him, but sure enough, both of you are here. How are you feeling?”

Christopher clutched Yogi even tighter. His voice was so tentative Dr. Zoryan had to lean in to hear him. “I’m scared.”

Dr. Zoryan ran his hand gently over Christopher’s head. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. All you have to do is to count to five. The rest is up to me. Can you do that?”

Christopher looked a little skeptical. “That’s all I have to do?”

“Yep. And if you’d like, Superbear can count with you. It will take me just a second to”—he looked at me and shrugged—“get the anti-kryptonite medicine ready.” He smiled. “But in the meantime, you’re probably going to start feeling a little bit sleepy.” He injected a sedative into the tubing of Christopher’s IV. “I’ll tell you when to start counting.”

Maggie and the transport technician pushed the gurney into the actual surgical suite, and all three of us moved Christopher effortlessly from it onto the operating table. The technician wheeled the gurney out of the room, and Maggie placed monitor leads on Christopher’s chest, then covered him with a warm blanket. Dr. Zoryan secured his own surgical mask, sat down at the head of the operating table, brought a mask up near Christopher’s face, and adjusted some dials attached to the tubes leading to the tanks of anesthetic gas. Christopher was already almost asleep. He gently placed the mask over Christopher’s face and nose and quietly whispered, “Okay, Superman, you and Superbear can start counting.”

“One.” Christopher was out. Within seconds, Dr. Zoryan removed the mask, intubated Christopher quickly, made a few more adjustments to the dials, then taped the endotracheal tube into place.

Without looking away from the myriad of monitors he said, “Okay, team, it’s showtime. Everyone make this their best performance.”

In one smooth motion, I pulled Yogi out of Christopher’s embrace, carried him out of the room and put him on the gurney Christopher had been wheeled down on. It took incredible restraint not to give Maggie a smug smirk, but now the priority was Christopher. She moved in and began to apply surgical antiseptic to Christopher’s side, and Moses unwrapped the surgical instruments and began to organize them on the tray.

At that moment, Dr. Alfredo came in, followed closely by Dr. Klein and Justin, a surgical resident I recognized as being one of the second years. Dr. Alfredo offered everyone a warm greeting and thanked them for their participation. Dr. Klein, on the other hand, eyed me suspiciously. “Dr. Sheldon. I didn’t anticipate having nonsurgical staff in attendance. To what do we owe this dubious honor?” His voice was thick with sarcasm.

Before I had an opportunity to answer, Dr. Alfredo came to my rescue. “Zack is here as my guest. He has been following this patient since the time of admission. I thought it would be very educational for him to observe this operation. He and his team have been trying diligently to eradicate this tumor. He should be able to see firsthand what it looks like. Besides, I admire how committed he is to participating in the overall care of his patients.”

Without really acknowledging Dr. Klein, I gave Dr. Alfredo an appreciative nod.

For his part, Dr. Klein gave no indication of being either convinced or impressed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he shrugged a little disdainfully. “Fair enough. At the very least, having an exposure to medicine practiced in its unadulterated form may be beneficial. Without question, surgery is the purest form of the art of medicine. Frankly, I’m not even sure there’s a close second.” He gave me a challenging glare and raised an eyebrow, hopeful, I was sure, that I would dare to contradict him.

Instead, I averted my eyes to look at Christopher, and again, Dr. Alfredo’s voice filled the uncomfortable silence with soothing benevolence. “We all do our part. In order to be propelled forward, the pistons of a car work in unison, each firing independently, but none more important than the other in achieving the ultimate goal.”

Moses assisted all three surgeons in securing their surgical gowns, and Maggie opened packages of surgical gloves in the appropriate sizes and dropped them on the sterile tray. By this time, Christopher had already been covered by surgical drapes. Only an eight-inch square of skin was exposed. When Dr. Alfredo had his latex gloves stretched tightly over each of his fingers, he turned and assessed the entire team. “Are we ready to proceed?”