Notice Me

It was quiet.

The bright overhead lights cast a stark white glow on the surgical room, illuminating the graceful dance of gloved hands and gleaming instruments. The only sound being heard were the controlled humming and beeping of the monitors, each beep reverberating in the very bones of everyone present.

The illuminated blue fabric of surgical gowns cast dark shadows on the focused faces gathered around the table, eyes fixed on the small, exposed bloody area beneath them. Catherine, a new intern, stood at the periphery of the action, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it – her first real surgery, it was a complex and delicate procedure, and she just so happens to be in the front line of the action, as an assistant to the great god himself, Dr. Ethan Allen.

Dr. Ethan Allen.

Even his name was intimidating. The legend who commanded respect in the hallowed halls of Havenwood General hospital, the biggest hospital in the world. Ever since his major appearance a little over a year ago, he's climbed through ranks at an alarming rate, his 100% successful surgery rate pushing the name of Havenwood General to the very top of the list. He was indeed a surgical god with unparalleled skill.

Ethan's movements were both fluid and focused, each gesture precise and unwasted, his brow furrowed in concentration. He barely seemed to notice anyone, let alone Catherine, his attention entirely consumed by the task at hand.

The patient on the table was a young man, barely thirty, with a rare vascular malformation. The surgery was cumbersome and needed every bit of concentration, with the slightest mistake resulting to terrible consequences. Catherine's role was solely to assist, to anticipate Ethan's needs, to observe both Ethan and the patient, guessing precisely the next action and providing the necessary instruments, to learn.

She watched, mesmerized, as Ethan worked. His hands moved steadily, navigating the complex network of blood vessels, fingers holding the cold metal, as elegant as a swan. He spoke in clipped, concise commands, his voice low, quite pleasing to the ear.

"Scalpel," he said, his hand outstretched.

Catherine quickly placed the instrument in his palm, her fingers barely grazing his, a jolt of nervousness shooting through her spine. Ethan on the other hand was focused, his gaze never leaving the patient in front of him. It was as if she didn't exist, as if everyone around him were merely an extension of the machinery, he was in a world of his own.

Hours passed, it was approaching the end of the difficult surgery but no one was relaxed. The tension still thick in the air, one could almost taste it. The hiss of the suction was loud and it was accompanied by the occasional snap of a suture. Catherine's back ached, her legs having a pulse of its own, but she dared not move, afraid to break the spell-like trance, or disrupt the delicate balance of the operation.

"We could switch,"

The whispered voice seemed to echo deep in her eardrums in the otherwise quiet room. Catherine looked behind her to find the owner of the voice, it was one of the older residents, his tired eyes the only feature visible in his surgical get up.

The man seemingly in his late thirties adjusted his face mask while gently shoving Catherine aside, "Just watch the procedure", although his voice was gentle, it carried the authority of someone with a lot of experience.

Catherine nodded and willingly gave way for the man. She heaved a tired sigh and retreated to the back of the room, her gaze sweeping across the sterile environment, ready to step in if needed.

The operating room itself was not too big but also not too small, it was a clustered space with surgical instruments laying on the table behind the group of focused surgeons. The medical charts and monitors were arranged neatly next to one another at the very edge of the room, directly facing them. On the digital screens mounted on the wall, vital signs flickered continuously, a constant stream of data providing a silent narrative of the patient's condition.

Catherine, not knowing what to do as her role as assistant had been switched, meticulously reviewed the patient's chart, snippets of short instructions and confirmations from the ongoing surgery drifting through her ears.

She frowned.

Something was definitely wrong somewhere. Perhaps she made a mistake? Unsure, she reread the information, her eyes tracing each word in unhurried movements. The lab results, the medication dosages, it wasn't adding up. Catherine grew uneasy, she glanced at the monitor displaying the patient's vital signs. Stable. But there was a slight deviation from the expected parameters. Her heart began to pound in her chest, she once again cross-referenced the readings with the medication dosage chart, eyes widening in disbelief.

It was indeed a miscalculation. A small error that could pass unnoticed if not looked at carefully. An error capable of creating possible devastating problems for the patient, and worse, taking his life. The dosage of the vasodilator Ethan had administered was too high, significantly higher than the patient's body weight and condition warranted. An increasing amount could lead to a catastrophic drop in blood pressure. Despite being given the shot at intervals from the start of the surgery, Catherine was surprised that an issue hadn't arisen yet. A miracle of some sort.

Catherine's mind raced. How could this be? Ethan was known for his thorough attention to detail. He was never wrong. But what was she seeing? The evidence was undeniable. The numbers in front of her didn't lie.

She felt her stomach tighten a bit, calculated thoughts swarming her head. Should she speak up? After all, Ethan was a legend, a force of nature, a natural bug in this programmed world. Who was she, a lowly intern, to question his judgement? But to remain silent, to allow the miscalculation to go unnoticed, was simply unthinkable. The patient's life was at stake.

Catherine took a deep breath and with every ounce of courage she possessed, spoke. Her voice, barely a whisper, trembled with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

"Dr. Allen," she said, her gaze fixed on his back. Even though she said his name almost inaudibly, it still reverberated in the somewhat quiet room.

He didn't respond, he didn't even acknowledge her presence. He continued to work, his hands moving with unwavering precision. Catherine paused, her brows slightly furrowing.

"Dr. Allen," she repeated, her voice slightly louder, determined to get his attention.

Ethan's delicate fingers winced, pausing just for a fraction of a second, his movements hardly noticeable. Then, without turning around, his deep voice, cold and dismissive, rang out "Yes, Dr....?". He didn't even use her name.

Catherine's eyebrow twitched.

"It's... it's Catherine, Catherine Hopkins, Dr. Allen," she said, her voice a little shaky "I... I think there might be an issue in the vasodilator dosage. I believe... it's too high?" The last of her words trailing off, sounding more like a question.

The room fell silent. All eyes, turned towards her, widening in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and horror. The other nurses and residents froze, their hands suspended in mid-air. Their expressions were all the same, they were dumbfounded, loss of words or what to do. It was almost like she had broken an unspoken rule, like she had violated the sanctity of the operating room.

Ethan finally turned around, his sapphire eyes that met her brown ones, were like chips of ice, seemingly unforgiving. His face, which was usually composed and emotionless, was now masked with an unexplained fury.

"Explain yourself," his voice was dangerously low, each word clipped and straight to the point, laced with barely suppressed rage.

Catherine swallowed air, her mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding so loudly she thought it might burst out of her chest. She could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on her, scrutinizing, burning through her skull in silent condemnation, the question they were thinking practically visible on their faces.

Who does she think she is?

Ignoring the questioning gazes, she continued, her voice still lightly trembling. "The patient's weight is... is significantly lower than what the dosage chart indicates," she paused for a bit, making sure that Ethan was following what she was saying, "And the EF (ejection fraction)... is a little lower than ideal, it could potentially worsen the effects of the drug. I recalculated the dosage, and..." She trailed off, unable to meet his gaze.

Ethan with cold eyes took a step towards her, his towering presence looming over her. He was a big man, he stood intimidatingly, the light fabric of his pale blue scrubs stretching across his broad shoulders. He had an athletic build, not too lean and not too muscular with the lines of his body being noticeably defined even through the loose fabric of the medical attire. His domineering presence was like a vengeful god, ready to unleash his wrath.

"You recalculated?" his voice dripping with disdain, asked incredulously "You, an intern, dare to question my judgment? Do you have any idea how many times I've performed this procedure? Do you honestly think you know better than I do?"

It was practically the longest sentence she'd heard Ethan say when he wasn't given lectures. Catherine stood motionless, every fibre of her being screaming at her to back down, to just dig the ground and bury herself in it. But she couldn't. The patient's life was potentially on the line. She had to stand her ground no matter how intimidating this man was.

"I'm not questioning your expertise, Dr. Allen," she said, her voice slowly gaining confidence. "I'm just pointing out what could possibly be an error. I understand the risks, but I really think we should double-check. I mean, it can't hurt to be extra careful... sir"

Maybe being respectful would lighten his mood? Or at least that was what she hoped for.

Ethan stared at the small person in front of him, his eyes boring into hers, searching for something unknown. The silence in the room was deafening, and the clear, controlled beeping of the monitors was the only constant reminder of there being a fragile life that hung in the balance.

After what seemed like an eternity later, he turned away from her, his back to the room. He was silent for a long time, his shoulders stiff, his posture straight and undisturbed. The tension in the room was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. No one dared to breathe, move, or speak. They all waited, frozen in time, anticipating. It was like the calm before the storm.

Just when Catherine thought she couldn't bear the silence any longer, Ethan spoke. His voice, when it finally came, was low and calm, sending shivers down her spine.

"Show me," he said, voice as flat as it could be, devoid of any emotion.

Catherine breathe in and stepped forward, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled up the patient's records on the monitor. She explained her reasoning based on the data she's seen, the lab results, and the dosage calculations, while pointing out the error in the dosage, the patient's weight, and low EF (ejection fraction).

Ethan listened in silence, his expression was unreadable. He didn't interrupt or make any comments, neither did he make his thoughts or feelings known. He simply listened, eyes focused, fixed on the screen, while making a mental calculation of his own.

When she was finished, he was silent for a short while before turning to the anesthesiologist.

"Check the medication," Ethan's said calmly. "Verify the dosage."

The anesthesiologist, a woman seemingly in her early twenties nodded quickly and began to check the medication levels, her hands moving in urgency. The minutes ticked by, each one taking an eternity as if teasing them, waiting for the results.

Finally, the anesthesiologist turned to Ethan, her eyes wide with shock with cold sweat dripping down the lines of her back.

"She's right," she said almost in a whisper. "The dosage... is too high."

A collective gasp filled the room. The room fell once more into deathly silence. The other nurses and residents exchanged stunned glances, unsure of what to do. This had nevr happened before, at least not when Ethan was in charge.

Ethan remained impassive, his expression unchanged but his eyes unnoticeably quivering.

He made a mistake? Him?

With unhurried movements, turned back to Catherine, and for the first time, he saw her. The person's faceless shape in front of him had finally gained form. He stared unbothered at her, studying her facial features, her small oval face, the way her facemask stayed unmoving on her face, the soft trimmed eyebrows that formed a small arch towards the end, and the long eyelashes that casted a slight shadow on her cheeks.

Ethan's eyes traced every part of Catherine's face, as if burning the face of the one who questioned him in the deepest part of his brain.

"You were correct, Dr. Hopkins,"

He remembered her name.

"The dosage was indeed too high. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

His words, though simple, hung in the air, an unexplained meaning lacing in them. It was the closest thing to an apology Catherine or anyone else had ever heard from him.

Catherine's lips quivered underneath her mask, holding back the smile that was trying to break through. So even a statue was capable of gratitude. She was content. She had been acknowledged, and that was enough.

It didn't take long before Ethan's low voice rang out again.

"Finish up" Ethan instructed the assisting nurse near him and moved away from the operating table. With the corrected dosage administered, and the patient's vitals stabilizing, the rest of the procedure went by swiftly and efficiently, keeping up to schedule. After all, Ethan's skills were undeniable

As the final sutures were placed, a profound quiet settled. Ethan, before leaving, looked back at the scene behind him, his eyes finally settling on Catherine. A flicker of something unreadable passing across his stern face, even he didn't quite understand.

She wasn't just a mere extension of the surgical machinery anymore, she was a separate entity, one with such detailed form. The feeling he felt when he looked at this person with a face on it, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

But these kinds of people, he hated them.

With his eyes finally leaving Catherine's form, he walked away, leaving the team behind him.