A White Coat Is My Closet (48 page)

“I have to see him.” I was suddenly consumed by an overwhelming sense of urgency and began making my way toward the trauma room. Then the memory of Dr. Klein’s hateful comments slammed into me. I turned to Patty and searched her expression desperately. “Who’s the other in-house surgeon on tonight?”

Patty looked at me like she had been knocked over by the irrelevance of my question. “Dr. Wilber is also on tonight, but Dr. Klein is already on the case. What’s the problem? He’s an excellent surgeon.”

The words came pouring out of me in a torrent. “Please call Dr. Wilber. Ask him to come down. Tell him it’s an emergency. If you have to, tell him I would consider it a personal favor. I don’t want Dr. Klein touching Sergio. Please, Patty. Call him. I’ll explain later.”

I ran toward the trauma room with Diane closely on my heels. On the way, she told me Dr. Simson had already gone ahead and had done the spinal tap on the six-week-old baby, so neither of our services would be needed immediately.

I walked into the room mentally prepared to have an immediate altercation with Dr. Klein, but when I arrived, he wasn’t in the room. Having been primed for a fight, my adrenaline rush began to wane. I had been so fixated on readying myself for an altercation I hadn’t really prepared myself to see Sergio.

The crowd around the gurney had thinned out a little, so I had no difficulty walking over and standing right next to it. Though a survey of the surrounding monitors assured me Sergio’s vitals were stable, seeing him lying motionless on the bed caused another wave of emotion to surge through me, and I again felt my eyes being stung with tears.

Blood soaked the sheet underneath him. A bulky dressing was secured over his chest, and any areas not covered by bandages were covered by EKG leads. A blood-pressure cuff encircled his right bicep, and an endotracheal tube was taped to the side of his cheek. The cervical collar had been removed, however, and I could see the rest of his face clearly. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought he was sleeping peacefully.

I grabbed his hand and held it between both of mine. Without giving it any conscious thought, I leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered in his ear, “You’re going to be fine. I’m right here. I’ll make sure they take good care of you. You’re a fighter and too fucking stubborn to be kept down. You’re going to be fine. I love you.”

As I straightened up, I again became aware of tears were falling down my cheeks, but at this stage, that detail seemed trivial. Without taking my eyes off Sergio’s face, I asked the nurse, “Has he been conscious?”

“When he arrived, he was weak and disoriented, but he was trying to put up a fight. We gave him some sedation.

More tears flooded my eyes. “That sounds like him.” I kept his hand locked in one of mine and stroked his cheek with my other hand.

At that moment, Dr. Klein appeared from an adjacent trauma room. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t demonstrate it, and his voice maintained its traditional smugness. “Dr. Sheldon. I’m flattered by your presence here. You undoubtedly feel your clinical skills can be greatly enhanced by spending more time with surgeons, but in this instance, we won’t be requiring any pediatric input. You’re free to return to the monotony of the land of the little people. I’m taking this patient to the operating room.”

Though I was seething with hatred, I maintained an even voice. “You’re not taking this patient anywhere. I’ve asked Dr. Wilber to do the surgery.” I turned to face him directly. “Dr. Klein, you are most assuredly a talented surgeon, but you are also a homophobic bigot, and I won’t have you touching Sergio.”

His cheeks turned immediately crimson with anger and the whole room fell silent. All that could be heard was the beeping of the monitors. Diane looped her arm through mine and hugged me in support. At the same time, Patty returned from the nurses’ desk. She started to report that Dr. Wilber was on his way down, but when she recognized the standoff, she too fell silent.

When Dr. Klein found his voice, it came out like a scythe cutting raw flesh. “Why, you insolent little shit. I’ll have you brought up on charges of insubordination. You can’t talk to me that way, and as a worthless pediatric resident, you certainly have no authority to decide who performs surgery in this hospital. Now get the fuck out of my way.”

I held my ground without flinching. “I’m not speaking to you as a pediatric resident. I’m speaking to you as Sergio’s lover, and as the person listed on his power of attorney directive. I have the authority to make medical decisions on his behalf. That, Dr. Klein, does let me decide who performs surgery, and I refuse to allow you to touch him.” I rested my hand protectively on Sergio’s shoulder. “Dr. Maldonado can testify that not more than forty-five minutes ago, you stated that you resented having to operate on
our
kind, and that you thought it was a waste of your time. I will not have you waste your time operating on my partner.” I glared at him. “That should be your privilege.”

Now, understanding the situation more completely, Patty chimed in resolutely, “Dr. Wilber has agreed to take the case.” She looked at me with understanding and compassion. “He said he’d do it as a favor to Dr. Sheldon.” She paused. “I didn’t have all the particulars, but when I explained what I believed to be the situation, he said he would be right down.”

Dr. Klein ripped his scrub cap off his head and hissed through clinched teeth, “This is bullshit, Sheldon. Now I’m going to make it my mission to get your ass kicked out of here. You might as well kiss your career good-bye.” He stormed out of the room.

Victor kind of snuck up behind me and whispered, “Good for you, Zack. The guy’s an asshole. And, don’t worry about Sergio. I’m still going to go to the OR with Dr. Wilber. We’ll take good care of him.”

Another tear trickled down my cheek.

D
R
. W
ILBER
arrived in the emergency room a few minutes later. Patty escorted him over to the edge of the nursing station, where Dr. Klein was furiously scribbling notes on Sergio’s chart. From across the room, I couldn’t hear their entire exchange, but I appreciated Dr. Wilber’s calm, even tone even in the face of Dr. Klein’s angry tirade.

Dr. Wilber was the epitome of professionalism. “Steven,” he said, addressing Dr. Klein, “you’ll have every opportunity to express your grievance and outrage to hospital administration. For the time being, however, we have to maintain our focus on the care of the patient. Dr. Sheldon, whom I understand is charged with making decisions on the patient’s behalf, has requested that I assume”—he glanced at the name on top of Sergio’s chart—“Mr. Quartulli’s immediate care. I appreciate that your expert management has stabilized him for surgery, and I am thus eager to hear your assessment regarding the extent of his injuries. The sooner I’m brought up to speed, the sooner the patient goes to the operating room, and the sooner you’re out of here.”

Dr. Klein puffed out his cheeks but offered no additional rebuttal. He begrudgingly whipped into a review of Sergio’s condition. “Single bullet hole to the upper left chest, no exit wound. Our best guess is that though extensive, the injury doesn’t appear to have involved any major vessels. Regardless, he’s lost a lot of blood and presented here with a collapsed left lung. He’s intubated, has a chest tube in the fourth intercostal space, and has received two liters of saline and one unit of O negative blood. He currently has an acceptable blood pressure but is still relatively unstable. We see no value in getting any additional imaging studies and instead intend to take him to the operating room to explore the wound and try to control the bleeding.” His expression became cynical and his tone sarcastic. “Does that bring you sufficiently up to speed? Or does Dr. Sheldon request that the information be relayed to you in the form of a fucking rainbow valentine?”

Dr. Wilber remained unfazed by Dr. Klein’s vitriolic seething. “No, Steven, that’s sufficient information to allow me to pick the ball up from here. Thank you for the remarkable job you did in helping to stabilize Mr. Quartulli. His compete recovery is significantly more likely as the result of your efforts.” Dr. Wilber pushed himself away from the counter and started walking toward us but not before directing a final comment to Dr. Klein. “If your level of compassion was to even approximate your level of skill, you truly would be exceptional.”

Dr. Klein only sneered in response. “Get off your fucking high horse, Craig. I would never allow someone’s perverted lifestyle to dictate the quality of care they receive. Murderers, drug abusers, child molesters, faggots; I welcome all comers with open arms.” He spread his arms wide in a mock display of greeting and plastered a contemptuous smile across his face. “Now, you’d better get cracking. I’ve heard tell that the fairy princess on the table over there turns back into a pumpkin at dawn.”

Dr. Wilber did little more than subtly shake his head to indicate an apologetic sense of disbelief, then made his way into the trauma room, where we were waiting. He took a quick survey of the monitors, then spoke directly to me. His tone was compassionate but professional. “Let me assure you, Zack, that Dr. Klein’s personal opinions are neither endorsed nor condoned by the vast majority of the medical staff here. While it’s true that as physicians we are charged with improving the lives and well-being of all patients, most of us believe the value of an individual is measured by who they are, not by their race, their skin color, their religion, or especially by who they choose to love. Having known you since you started your residency here, you’ve impressed me as being intelligent, hardworking, compassionate, and determined to develop into an outstanding doctor. Those are the qualities that define you, and from my perspective, if you choose to share who you are with Sergio, then he’s a lucky man.” He gently touched my arm and gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Now, let’s get him to the operating room and see what we can do to patch him back together.”

Without the slightest sense of self-consciousness, I reached out and held Sergio’s hand. A few wayward tears continued to cascade down my cheeks, and I maintained my focus on Sergio’s pale face. The lump in my throat made my voice sound like tires driving over loose gravel. “If truth be told, between him and me, I’m the lucky one.”

I straightened my shoulders, swallowed, turned to look Dr. Wilber directly in the eye, then made every effort to speak without allowing my voice to crack. “I can’t thank you enough for coming down and for being willing to assume his care. I have every confidence that he’s in good hands. Please do everything you can. I know it might sound selfish, but until this very moment, I didn’t realize that I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“Believe me, Zack, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t have to.” He turned to Patty. “I understand they’re ready for us up in the operating room. Would you please coordinate immediate transfer up?” His request resulted in an instantaneous flurry of activity. A respiratory therapist gently pushed himself between me and the bed to access an ambu bag secured on a hook just above Sergio’s head. He attached it to a portable oxygen tank, carefully disconnected Sergio from the ventilator, then connected the bag to Sergio’s endotracheal tube and began to rhythmically squeeze oxygen into his lungs. When he confirmed with a stethoscope both lungs were being adequately filled with each compression of the ambu bag, he looked up at me with an encouraging smile. “Rest easy, Dr. Sheldon. We’ll take good care of him.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just offered him an appreciative nod. I had subconsciously expected as the real significance of my relationship with Sergio became evident, I would be given a cool, isolative reception. Instead, everyone was being warm, understanding, sympathetic, and genuinely supportive.

Patty wasted no time in coordinating the nursing staff to prepare for a finely orchestrated transfer. Sergio was efficiently disconnected from the overhead monitors and connected to transport monitors secured to the foot of his bed. Pumps connected to the intravenous fluids and blood infusing into his arm were relocated to a portable pole. Within less than two minutes, Patty made a final inspection of the preparations, then confidently confirmed that Sergio was ready to be moved.

Dr. Wilber also performed a quick but thorough survey of the monitors and then turned to Victor. “Dr. Maldonado, please go on up and confirm that anesthesia is ready and the surgical nurses are prepared to prep Mr. Quartulli for surgery the second we hit the door. You can then start scrubbing. I’m going to depend on a second good pair of hands to help me explore his chest and stop the bleeding.”

Before he fled the room, Victor walked over to me and quickly threw his arm around my shoulders. “Like I said, Zack, we’ll take good care of him. Don’t worry.” He then pulled a scrub cap out of his pocket, secured it over his head, and sprinted toward the door.

Dr. Wilber then turned to Diane. “Dr. McClure, you’re going to be charged with giving Dr. Sheldon a strong shoulder to lean on while his partner is in the operating room. Are you up to the challenge?”