don’t think that’s a bad thing, Dex.”
He breathed a deep sigh. “I’m rushing into this surgery to save his life, so I’m not so certain of that. Now I feel anxious, anxious to cut open his chest and pull out every single clot until he can finally breathe again. I’m desperate to remove the pressure from his lungs so he can walk more than a couple feet, so he can have a normal life once again. I want to give that to him so desperately.”
My eyes started to water at hearing his deep passion.
“Now I feel guilty for leaving medicine because there’re only fifty cardiac surgeons in the world who have done procedures like this more than a handful of times. I’ve done 600 surgeries. I feel weak for allowing the trauma to pull me away from where I should have been this entire time. I think about the patients who went under the knife with physicians who lacked the experience I have. I think about the patients who were turned away entirely because of money…because I wasn’t around.” He inhaled a deep breath and dropped his head toward the ground, like he was doing his best not to break down right in front of me, to burst into tears.
My actions were involuntary, and I immediately moved to the spot beside him on the couch, one hand going to his back, my other hand touching his forearm, my own eyes wet because the tears couldn’t be combated.
He continued to breathe hard, his back rising and falling rapidly, and after a minute, he raised his head again, his cheeks wet but his eyes dry.
“You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else, Dex. Don’t put that on yourself.” My hand rubbed his hard back, the lines between the segmented muscles, the heat that radiated from his skin and pierced his hoodie. “This is a new beginning, and we’re going to do great things, help so many people, and make a difference in this world.”
26
Dex
I went to see my dad after I left the office. He knew about my appointment today, so if I didn’t call or swing by, he would show up at my apartment. I decided to be pragmatic and come to him.
I wanted to talk to him anyway.
I sat across from him at the dining table, our plates empty, the two of us sharing a bottle of white wine that paired well with the salmon. Mom excused herself, knowing I needed to have this time with Dad, a physician who never stopped caring about his patients, who never severed emotional attachment, which was ironic because he failed to connect with regular people outside of medicine. I still watched him struggle to interact with people Mom introduced him to, to new people they met at charity events or wherever else. But he was the one to take his patients by the hand as they confessed their darkest fears.
Dad drank his wine as he stared at me. He licked his lips and gently set the glass back down. He patiently waited for me to tell him about my time with Marc and Angelica, what the next step was.
“The surgery is scheduled for a week from today.”
He didn’t look remotely surprised, as if he had complete faith that I would buck up and do the right thing.
“His condition has worsened over the last month. When he came into the office, he could barely take a couple steps without losing his breath. There’s so much pressure in his lungs that he can’t sleep at night because he’s constantly gasping for breath. He’s got chest pains around the clock, his blood work is through the roof, his blood vessels are so blocked, they’re about to explode.”
Dad gave a gentle nod. “He’s in good hands, son.”
“I’ve never removed this many blood clots before. How am I supposed to get them all in thirty minutes while not tearing into his pulmonary wall and killing him?” No other doctor would take on this operation because his condition was so chronic, the bypass wouldn’t allow enough time for it to be feasible to get everything, and I couldn’t do some and go back in later. That was traumatic to the body and the heart.
“You forget how brilliant you are, Dex. You forget how much experience you have. How many surgeries have you done?”
“Six hundred and thirty-two.” I never forgot a patient—ever.
He smiled with his eyes. “You’ve got this.”
It was the same procedure