Stubborn Heart (4 page)

“This must be my lucky day,” Trevor said as he entered the room.

Mark looked up from the table and smiled. “Not if you have to do the line insertions yourself. Don’t you have minions for that sort of thing?”

Trevor laughed. “I sent them both to surgery to get scrubbed in. We have a case later, and I figured it would save time if I changed out the TLC here while they started getting ready for surgery.”

“I think you are supposed to let the residents learn to do the procedures, not find them busy work to get rid of them,” Mark quipped. “Where do you want to insert the line?”

“Right subclavian vein.” Trevor smiled again. “You know, I could have waited around and let one of them insert the line and then gone down for the surgery. But it’s the weekend, and I don’t want to spend my whole day and night here in the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’ll be stuck here until at least seven thirty tonight. Ready to get started?” Mark asked as he slid the gown down, exposing the right side of Mr. Roberts’s chest. Next, he opened several packs of gauze pads and coated them liberally with a disinfecting solution. “I will be right back,” he said as Trevor began cleansing the skin around the insertion site.

Mark returned from checking another patient and started by opening the packet containing a sterile gown. He held it up for Trevor, who took the gown and fanned it out. He was careful to touch only the inside, keeping the outside sterile. Mark reached around Trevor’s waist to grab the pull tabs. He brought both around and tied the gown behind Trevor’s back.

“So what made you decide to become a nurse?” Trevor asked as he pulled a paper hat over his head to cover his hair.

“My mom had cancer when I was a teenager,” Mark explained as he handed Trevor a surgical mask. “I helped my dad take care of her before she died.”

“I’m sorry about your mother. That sounds pretty rough.” Trevor tied the mask in place, leaving only his eyes uncovered.

“Thank you. But it was a long time ago.” Mark opened a package containing sterile gloves and placed the package on the table. Trevor donned the gloves one at the time, careful not to touch anything else and contaminate them.

“It couldn’t have been that long ago,” Trevor said as he pulled on the second glove. “You don’t look that old,” he observed as Mark continued getting ready for the procedure.

“That’s very nice of you to say.” Mark smiled. “But I’m thirty-three, and it was almost twenty years ago.” He dressed himself in sterile cap, mask, gown, and gloves.

“I would never have guessed,” Trevor replied, his eyes on Mark as he worked.

Mark ignored the compliment, keeping his focus on what he was doing. He placed the TLC insertion tray on the table and unfolded each of the four sides of the cover. The end result was a sterile work surface that covered the entire bedside table. Trevor picked up the sterile drape from the tray and placed it over Mr. Robert’s right chest area, pressing down on the adhesive strips so it would remain in place.

Mark picked up a syringe and withdrew several milliliters of lidocaine from a vial. He squirted it into a container inside the sterile work field. Using a different syringe, Trevor withdrew the lidocaine from the container, and then began injecting small amounts of the medication into the skin near Mr. Roberts’ collarbone to numb the area. At the same time, Mark dropped more gauze pads into the sterile field.

After taking the insertion cannula in one hand, Trevor used his other hand to flatten the area beneath the collarbone to make the skin taut. With a swift flick of his hand, he pushed the needle in at a forty-five-degree angle and was immediately rewarded with a dark-red blood return in the syringe. With quick, deft movements, he detached the syringe and replaced it with a guide wire. He threaded the guide wire into the vein and used it to guide the TLC into place. He wiped the small amount of blood from around the insertion site, then sutured the line into place. The entire process took about five minutes.

“Nice work, Dr. Hayes!” Mark said with a slight air of humor in his voice.

“What?” Trevor asked innocently, looking up at Mark.

“That may well be the fastest central line insertion I have ever helped with.”

Trevor shrugged. “Just lucky.”

Mark used both hands to stretch a transparent bandage over the insertion site. “No, I’m thinking there was more to it than just plain luck,” Mark complimented sincerely.

“Well, it could be because you were my good luck charm.” The sparkle in Trevor’s eyes hinted at the grin beneath his mask.

“Pfftt, whatever.” Mark chuckled, looking away. He began cleaning up and disposing of the used supplies.

“So was I good enough for lunch?”

“I thought you had surgery.” Mark tossed the last of the used tray in the waste container.

“I do.” Trevor nodded. “But I’ll only need to be there for about an hour. There’s no reason for me to wait around while the residents finish sewing up the incision. I could be ready about twelve thirty if that would work for you.”

“That time works fine for me, but we might have to eat in the conference room if the unit is too busy.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Trevor said as he walked out of the room. “See you at twelve thirty.”

A
S
LUCK
would have it, the unit was not busy when Trevor returned, and Mark was able to get away for lunch. They purchased sandwiches and chose a quiet corner booth away from the main cafeteria. Talk was mostly Mark asking questions. He learned that Trevor was the youngest of three children and the only male sibling. Both sisters were already practicing physicians, one in cardiology and the other, internal medicine. His father was also a surgeon, and his mother a nurse. His parents and both sisters lived in or near Boise, Idaho. Both sisters had married physicians, as well. Camille, the oldest sister, had three children, twin four-year-old boys and another son who had just turned six months old. Sarah, the youngest sister, had two boys, one five years old and the other eight months.

“That’s enough about my family,” Trevor said with a smile as he leaned back against the bench, clasping both hands behind his head. “What about your family?”

“Party of one, I’m afraid.” Mark shrugged. “As I mentioned before, my mom died when I was thirteen. My dad never remarried. He had a heart attack and died four years ago. I have some uncles, aunts, and cousins out west, but I’ve never met any of them. My parents moved to Atlanta right after they got married. They never really talked about the rest of the family much, but I think their parents didn’t approve of them getting married.”

“Wow. It must be kind of sad being all alone,” Trevor sympathized.

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of used to it,” Mark replied, looking away briefly. “So tell me about your school and training.”

Mentally, Trevor acknowledged the shift in conversation and tucked it away for later. He told Mark about his time in college before starting his actual physician’s training, internship, residencies, and the six months he had spent as a cardiothoracic fellow at Boston General. Trevor’s face and expressions were very animated as he talked. It was obvious that he was very passionate about his chosen profession and enjoyed the work.

“So you’ve always wanted to do open-heart surgery?” Mark asked when Trevor stopped talking.

“Yep! As far back as I can remember,” Trevor answered with a grin. “You open up the vessels, you open up the heart. I know it sounds corny, but I like the idea of fixing broken hearts. You know, like the song goes?”

“Oh yuck!” Mark mocked, rolling his eyes. “That is corny. Now I’ll have that song in my head all afternoon.”

Trevor laughed and stood up to leave. “On that note, I’d better go make sure the residents are done sewing up my patient.”

As Mark watched him walk away, he could have sworn he heard Trevor singing that James Taylor song. Shaking his head, he got up and went back to the unit.

Chapter 4

O
NE
of the benefits of working twelve-hour shifts was more days off. Mark had spent the past four days shopping, cleaning, exercising, and catching up on movies. Now it was Monday morning and he was back at work, feeling rested and rejuvenated. To make life even better, he wasn’t the charge nurse. He would have a normal patient care assignment and maybe, just maybe, a peaceful day. Or perhaps not, he mused as he glanced up and saw Carla standing in the doorway. She looked like the cat that had eaten the canary. Mark could immediately tell something was up.

“It’s about time you decided to grace us with your presence,” she said cheerfully, walking in the room and then pushing the door partway closed.

“It’s good to see you too,” Mark replied, tucking in the covers around the shoulders of his sleeping patient. “Besides, I get days off too.”

“I wouldn’t know about all of that.” Carla smirked, crossing her arms across her chest. She stood quietly, staring at Mark. Her eyes were beaming. It was obvious she wanted to say something, but was waiting for the right cue.

“Fine.” Mark rolled his eyes. “I’ll bite. What gives?”

“Your boyfriend has been looking all over for you.”

“You know as well as I do that I don’t have a boyfriend. What are you babbling about?”

“You know, Dr. Hot Pants,” Carla answered with a giggle. “He’s been finding reasons to ask where you were for the past four days.”

“First of all, he is not my boyfriend. Second, I told you to stop calling him that.” Mark shifted his focus away from Carla and sighed. “Great. Now I have a stalker.”

“Stalker, hell. That man is prime boyfriend material.” Carla’s face became serious. “Are you going to tell me you’ve had a better offer in the past four days?”

“Carla, we work together,” Mark explained. “Even if I were interested, it would be a bad idea.”

“
If
you were interested?” Carla mimicked, raising her voice for emphasis. She gave Mark an impish grin. “I’ll take him if you don’t want him.”

“You have a husband, you greedy woman.” Mark scowled, shaking his head.

“Oh, I can trade him in.” Carla smiled and shrugged as if getting rid of the husband would be no big deal.

“What about your children?” Mark asked, continuing their back and forth banter.

“They go with the husband. It’s a package deal,” Carla said with a wave of one hand. “My job was to have them. His job is to take care of them. Besides, what would I be like, trying to raise three kids all by myself?”

“Probably even more annoying than you are now,” Mark said with a huff.

“What?” Carla shrugged, eyes wide. “I tell you a hot man has been looking for you, and I’m being annoying? I would think you’d be grateful for the information.”

“Well, thank you!” Mark said with an exaggerated exhale.

“See, I’m not hearing any sincerity there. Here I am, trying to look after your rapidly aging ass, and all I get is grief.”

“I don’t need you to look after my rapidly aging ass!” Mark fussed. “What I need you to do is help me turn my patient, and then get out of my room.”

T
HE
morning went by quickly, and at eleven thirty Mark walked down to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. It was early enough that the pizza was still fresh, so he grabbed a slice of the pepperoni. Looking around the cafeteria, he decided to take his food back up to the unit to eat. He carried his lunch into the conference room and saw Trevor sitting at a table, writing notes on a chart. “Hey, you!” Mark said, dropping down into a chair at the same table.

“Hi, Mark,” Trevor answered. He smiled as he looked up. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I had a few days off,” Mark explained as he unwrapped his pizza and took a bite. They chatted for a few minutes; Mark told Trevor about the movies he had seen. He nibbled at his pizza as they talked. It seemed like no time at all had passed when Carla stuck her head in the door.

“I hate to bother you while you are eating, but Mr. Jones had a Code Brown and there’s no one else to help me right now. I’ll get everything ready and meet you in five.” She backed out of the room and headed off.

“You just sat down, and you haven’t even had time to eat,” Trevor complained. “Is it something I can help her with? What is a Code Brown?”

“Aww! That is so very sweet of you to offer,” Mark said with a chuckle. “But I think I had better take care of this one myself. Oh, and for the record, a Code Brown is a bowel movement. It usually means a big, nasty one.”

“Oh,” Trevor replied, looking a little sheepish. “I guess I’m glad I know what that means now.”

“See you later,” Mark said with a laugh and a wink. He tossed the remainder of the pizza in the trash can as he left to go and help Carla.

“A
NY
more Code Browns?” Trevor asked as he leaned over the counter, peering down where Mark was busily writing notes on a patient’s chart. Mark smiled and looked up at him.

Trevor liked that first second when Mark’s gaze met his own. His eyes seemed to sparkle like big blue pools of water.

“Nope. Squeaky clean afternoon.” Mark grinned. He watched Trevor briefly and then resumed writing on the record. After a few seconds, he paused. He could see Trevor still leaning against the counter. He could feel him watching him. He finally glanced up again. “Do you need something?” he asked with a smile.