WHEN SPARKS FLY

As the late afternoon light filtered into the doctor's room, Phil Davis strode in, his footsteps echoing against the sterile white walls. "Have you heard yet who will be your next registrar?" he inquired, his voice ringing out into the quiet room.

Peter O'Connor, who had been lost in thought while reading a newspaper, looked up from the pages and replied, "No, I have been preoccupied with seeing private patients all day. Do you happen to know someone?"

Phil couldn't help but notice the look of relief that flashed across Peter's face. It was the expression that said, "I'm glad it's you and not me." Despite this, Phil decided to share the news he had received. "Professor Williams's daughter," he said with a smile, "I thought that might make your day."

Peter's face fell, and he put the newspaper down on the desk beside him. With a hint of skepticism in his voice, he asked, "Is it true that Daddy's little girl is attempting neurosurgery?" The slight curl of his lip suggested he had his doubts about the young woman's qualifications.

Phil poured himself a cup of steaming hot coffee, his eyes darting across the room to catch Peter O'Connor engrossed in the day's newspaper. "Seems like it," he replied to Peter's inquiry about the new registrar. Phil's tone was calm and composed, in stark contrast to Peter's disdainful attitude towards the topic at hand. "Peter, you ought to behave yourself better. Regardless of your personal feelings towards Professor Williams, it is your obligation to instruct his daughter as you would any other registrar under our training program," Phil admonished his colleague.

Peter stood up and flashed a self-assured smile at Phil. "Phil, you know me. I'll always act professionally," he responded, pushing in his chair. "It shouldn't be difficult. Like her pompous, overbearing father, I bet she's short, dumpy, and wears thick glasses," he added with a smirk.

Phil chuckled at Peter's jibe, but countered with a positive remark about the new registrar's mother. "She must follow in her mother's footsteps. I've heard she's pretty amazing," he stated with a speculative smile.

Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Please, God, spare me from another female registrar who is more concerned with a person's appearance than their ability to learn," he griped. "Before Yeji Kim, that girl had no hope. For goodness sake, I saw her checking her reflection in a bedpan," he added with a shudder.

Phil couldn't help but tease his friend. "Don't tell me the notoriously easygoing Peter O'Connor is starting to get a little tough on his registrars. Or do you only have a problem with female registrars?" he joked.

Peter's expression turned icy cold as he glared at Phil. "Look, Phoebe Tatterton may have developed a ridiculous crush on me, but I couldn't help it. I didn't encourage it in any way. She followed me around like a puppy who wanted to be loved. It was humiliating," he grumbled.

Phil burst out laughing at Peter's predicament. "Mate, you need another reliable girlfriend. What happened with what's-her-name?" he inquired, trying to lighten the mood.

Peter grinned as he recalled his previous girlfriend. "Lee Hannah. She decided it was time to find a nine-to-five playmate," he replied, raising his nearly empty coffee cup to his mouth. "I believe she is currently seeing a teacher," he added with a shrug.

Phil nodded understandingly. "Oh well, you know how it goes-one door closes and another opens," he replied, attempting to offer some solace to his friend.

Peter refocused his attention on the newspaper headlines, lost in thought. "Go easy on the registrars, Peter," Phil advised into the brief silence. "They are still developing. You were alike. I certainly was."

Peter's tone turned somber as he replied, "Yeah, well, my learning experience wasn't the same, actually. To get to where I am now, I had to work hard. I detest it when these young people come to this classroom expecting to be praised for everything they do, even their mistakes, and to be fed by hand all the time. We are dealing with actual people, not computer simulations that can be restarted after being knocked off. I can't figure out why I can't get a dedicated worker to work with me instead of someone trying to prove something to her father."

Phil was taken aback by Peter's sharp words. "You think that's the subject of this?" he inquired.

Peter's hand worked through his dark hair as he pondered Phil's remark. "I don't know...probably," he said thoughtfully. "Michael Williams was always in my corner, but it turns out he was just a fraud. He would berate me in front of patients and nurses, call me out in tutorials, and even reject my thesis proposal. I think he was just waiting for the country bumpkin to slip up."

Phil nodded in agreement. "We all know what he was like around here. Thank goodness he's retired. Despite his technical expertise as a neurosurgeon, I couldn't stand working with him. But Peter, you can't judge the daughter based on her father's actions. She might be completely different."

Peter gave a snort of derision as he picked up his phone. "Let's just wait and see," he said, attaching the phone to his belt. "Are we still on for our cycle in the morning?"

Phil shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, mate. I promised Kate I'd get the kids ready for school so she could attend her aqua-aerobics class. But you can do an extra twenty kilometers for me."

Peter grinned and held the door open. "That's what I'll do," he said before heading out.

After completing her early morning workout, Tasha hastened back to her parked car, her hair gathered in a tight ponytail and her gym bag slung over her shoulder. A glance at her watch revealed that she had a mere forty-five minutes to grab a low-fat protein shake and arrive at Parker's Metropolitan Hospital in time for her first list with Mr. O'Connor. Despite feeling both excited and anxious about her neurological rotation, she had heard nothing but favorable feedback about the facility's staff and state-of-the-art equipment.

As she exited the parking lot, she realized that she had left her phone with the gym receptionist due to a new policy prohibiting the use of camera phones in changing rooms. She promptly turned off the ignition and parked her vehicle once more on the closest available street spot. Before she could even step out, however, a loud thwack and a string of profanities caught her attention as a cyclist fell off his bike right in front of her.

"Oh my God!" Tasha gasped, hastening to the man's side. "Are you all right?"

The cyclist appeared disoriented, his arms and legs scraped and bleeding from his fall onto the hard bitumen. Tasha immediately recalled the Emergency Management of Severe Trauma course she had taken a month ago and mentally recited the ABCDEs: Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Disability, and Exposure. "First, establish his airway with cervical spine control," she reminded herself. "Then, check his respiratory movements, pulse, and BP to stop external hemorrhage. Next, AVPU neuro assessment and undress him..." She confirmed that his airway was clear and that he was breathing before moving on to check for other injuries.

As a gentle hand touched his body, Peter's eyes snapped open. "What in the world-?"

Tasha spoke soothingly, "Stay calm. I'm a physician. You shouldn't move. I'm going to call an ambulance."

He groaned in protest, "I don't need a bloody ambulance. I'm a-"

"Hey," interrupted Tasha, recognizing him. "What are you doing here?"

After spotting the phone on the water bottle belt, Tasha swiftly retrieved it and dialed 911, then proceeded to the trunk of her car to provide the operator with precise directions to their location. She was a picture of calm and composure, determined to provide the best care possible to the cyclist in need.

Peter shook his head in an effort to make the school of silverfish that were floating by his eyes disappear. He couldn't believe he had been knocked off by someone opening a Porsche door on him. The driver had been so careless, not even glancing in his direction. How could someone be so thoughtless?

As Tasha dropped to her knees next to him, she informed him that the ambulance was just two minutes away, carrying what looked like a doctor's bag. His eyes widened as she pulled out a firm cervical collar and began rummaging through it. He protested, "I don't need that, hey!"

"It's a safety precaution," she explained calmly. "You might have broken your cervical vertebrae. You were pretty hard on the road."

Peter tried to protest again, but the collar was already being tightened around his neck, cutting off his words. The screeching siren of the ambulance drowned out the rest of his words as it approached. Tasha quickly bandaged his scraped knees and elbows with enough bandages to make him feel like an Egyptian mummy, and he sat back and grinned.

Tasha breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his pupils were both equal and responsive after shining a bright light into them. Despite his injuries, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he was, with his chiseled and lean features, toned and tanned body, and unshaven jaw that added to his masculine appeal. She sternly reminded herself to focus on his medical needs, however.

She took his arm, put on a tourniquet, and just as the ambulance pulled up, she inserted an IV line into his antecubital fossa, warning him, "This will sting a bit," before he could protest through the choked cervical collar.

Peter stopped protesting after the paramedics arrived. He was immobilized with sandbags on either side of his neck, a spinal board, a liter of normal saline in his arm, and an oxygen mask on his face that let dry, rubbery oxygen into his mouth and nose. Just as the ambulance's back door was slammed shut and the siren sounded, the police arrived on the scene. Tasha tearfully confessed to the officers what had happened, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

As the vehicle accelerated toward his own hospital, Peter murmured to himself, "Yep, it certainly was," realizing just how lucky he was to have someone like Tasha at his side in his time of need.

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.'