Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Alright.” He took the seat Shelly had just occupied.
I finally came up for air. “What’s up?”
He held up the three folders. “Time for a new patient since Melinda has been officially discharged. Thought I’d give you first pick. Because, you know—”
“You were a prick?” I took the first folder and flipped through it.
“I was going to say because you’re a great physician…but okay.”
I flipped through the chart. “Young. Short medical record. Nah.” I closed it and tossed it on the table before I grabbed the thickest folder, crammed with tons of papers. “Multiple surgeries, hospital stays, long medication list, several chronic conditions… This is the one.” I shut it and set it on my lap. “Thanks, bud.”
With the final folder still in his hand, he wore a slightly incredulous look. It was a warm day, so today, he wore a black shirt and jeans, showing off his muscular arms for the first time. “I’m surprised you picked that one.”
“Why?”
“It’s a lot of work.”
“I like a challenge. If I’m not being challenged, I’m unhappy.” I went to the bag of chips and grabbed one before I extended the bag to him.
He shook his head. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” I dunked it in the salsa and popped it into my mouth.
He continued to watch me even though the conversation was over.
“What?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“A woman who likes chips and salsa?”
“Not sure how to explain it.”
I continued to eat my chips. “What part of England are you from?”
“London. Born and raised.”
“Then what brought you out here?”
“My second residency. I wanted to be certified to practice medicine in both countries. Then I decided to stay.”
“That must have been hard, to leave your family behind.” He was civil now, so I decided to be civil too, to treat him the same way I treated my other colleagues. Instead of asking the same old shit like how are you, I decided to have a real conversation with real questions.
He suddenly looked away and grabbed the folder I’d placed on the table. “Yeah.” He got to his feet and turned for the door, his muscled back stretching the fabric of his shirt. “Enjoy your burrito.”
I gave him a thumbs-up even though he couldn’t see me. “Oh, I will. Thanks for the pick of the deck.”
He turned back before he walked out. “No problem.”
Atlas leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, preferring to stand rather than sit during our staff meetings. “What have you ordered?”
Anthony flipped through his chart. “I’m repeating the CBC panel. There must be an infection, but his blood keeps coming up clean. It doesn’t make sense. How can someone have the symptoms of an infection with no signs of an infection?”
Atlas kept his eyes fixed in place, his jawline tight as he brooded over the information. His hand absent-mindedly rubbed his bicep, like he was sore from his session at the gym. “Maybe because it’s an isolated infection. Won’t appear on the CBC panel.”
Anthony shook his head. “That’s just not possible.”
“Not if it’s in the spinal cord,” Atlas said. “Blood-brain barrier.”
“Hmm…” I shifted my chair left and right. “That is a possibility. Consider a spinal tap.”
“It’s so risky on a young person that I’d rather not,” Anthony said.
Atlas dropped his arms and slid his hands into his pockets. “It’s essential to rule it out at the least.”
“But you know how ER doctors are,” Anthony said. “They’re always in a hurry, so those spinal taps are dangerous. They aren’t even guided by imaging.”
“Then I can do it,” Atlas said. “I’ve done a million of those.”
Anthony turned in his chair toward me. “Daisy is actually the best.”
Atlas shifted his gaze to me, but instead of giving me his usual annoyance and hostility, it was just calm consideration. “Alright. Let’s schedule the patient. Shelly, give us the rundown of your patients.”
With my bag over my shoulder, I left my office and walked through the lobby until I made it to the sidewalk.
At that moment, Atlas stepped out of the back seat of his town car and focused his dark eyes on me. He approached me, his bag over his shoulder. “Time for a burrito?”
“Psh, I wish. No, I’m headed out of town.”
“You’re usually the last person here. Strange to see you leaving—” he lifted his wrist and tapped the screen on his watch “—on time.”
“Yes, I have a life. Believe it or not.”
He dropped his arm and continued to stare at me, like he wanted to know what my plans were but knew it was inappropriate to ask.
I was laid-back, so I didn’t care. “I’m headed to Atlantic City.”
A slow grin came over his face. “Was not expecting you to say that.”
“Well, I’ve got to work.”
Now, a consternated expression came over his face, his eyes darkening in further intensity. “Are you a stripper?”