Chapter 3 III

Linc Kim, the renowned crisis specialist, commented wryly as Peter was hoisted from the rescue vehicle, "This is not your typical mode of transportation to work. They called us to report that you were knocked off your bicycle. How are you feeling?" With a frown, Peter removed the breathing apparatus and collar, "I'm fine, thank you," he said, "Some foolish young lady flung her car door open on me. Luckily, no other vehicle was coming." "You were fortunate she was a doctor," Linc observed, scanning the bandages on Peter's arms and legs.

"It appears she did an excellent job on you." Peter shot him another angry look as he struggled out of the wraps, throwing them in the bin as he went, "I'm already half an hour late for the theatre," he snarled. "And it couldn't have happened on a worse day. I have another residency center to prepare." "Are you sure you're okay to work?" Linc inquired, reaching for his ophthalmoscope. "Don't start," Peter retorted, "I have a full schedule today. Too many patients' appointments get postponed without me adding to them. I have ten patients lined up and ready for their surgeries. It's not fair to cancel on them just because I had a fall." "If you have nothing to do with--" "I'm fine, for God's sake. And if you're asking for the sake of sympathy," Peter insisted, "I have a little road rash, that's all. I bet that girl had just graduated from medical school, eager to display her newfound skills on whoever she could. Pity she didn't bother to improve her driving skills while she was at it, especially since she was driving a Porsche." "It could have been a lot worse, Peter," Linc said, with a serious tone to his voice. "At least she stopped to help you. Many people these days would have driven off without a backward glance. Do you remember that teenage patient three weeks ago? I still have nightmares about telling his parents he didn't make it. It made their experience all the more difficult, with no one taking responsibility." Peter let out a sigh as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Well, you're right," he said. "I guess that's why today shook me so much. Not only did she stop, but this young lady was also pleasant to look at, which is some kind of compensation, I suppose."

Linc's eyes gleamed with a playful twinkle. 'So, if fate would have it, and you ran into her again, would all be forgiven?' he inquired.

Peter scoffed as he pushed open the heavy swing doors. 'She may have been cute, but she wasn't charming enough to forgive,' he said dismissively as he left.

A few moments later, Peter strode into the operating theater and inquired about the new resident doctor. Ella Reynolds, the scrub nurse, responded by saying, 'She hasn't arrived yet. Probably finishing up her makeup.' Peter let out a pessimistic snort at the tardiness.

Ella noticed the crease on his forehead and placed her hand on it, 'You were feeling fine earlier today, Peter. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?' she asked with a hint of maternal reprimand.

'Sorry, Ella,' he said gruffly. 'I had a run-in with a car door this morning.'

'Well, that's what you get for cycling to work,' Ella chided. 'Why don't you drive a BMW or a Mercedes like all the other neurosurgeons in Parkers?'

'You sound like my mom,' he said with a wry smile. 'Actually, I wasn't cycling to work. I planned to go home, shower, shave and then drive my pickup truck, but I ran out of time.'

As the patient was wheeled in, Peter gestured to start the surgery, 'Come on, let's get started. I don't have time to wait for the recorder to turn up.' He looked up to Yeji, the anesthetist assigned to his list that morning. 'Are things okay your end, Yeji?'

'Yes, Peter. All lines are in, and we're ready to proceed,' Yeji responded.

Peter took the hand of the 35-year-old woman as she was transferred from the stretcher to the surgical table. 'Hello, Mrs. Hekkins. You've had a long wait to get into the hospital, but you're finally here. We'll resect that meningioma, hopefully put an end to those migraines and improve that weakness,' he reassured her.

'Thank you, Mr. O'Connor. I've waited almost a year to get in,' Veronica Hekkins said. 'Do you think I'll be able to play golf again?'

'Perhaps,' he said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. 'We need to stop the damage first and take it one step at a time. I'll see you after the surgery in Recovery.'