He’d decided to hide in his office for a while to try to get a little rest. He’d bought an air mattress to put in the small rectangular room so he could stretch out to get a little shut eye when he worked multiples. It was the rare occasion that he actually got lay down on double shifts, but he was grateful for any chance he got to rest his eyes and mind while he was stuck in that hell hole.
When his pager went off, he shot straight up off of the mattress. After checking the code, he stood, and called the number on the pager. “This is Dr. Draiman. I just got your page. What’s going on?”
“I told you that I’d let you know when all of the results were in, Doctor”, his nurse said. “And they’re all in if you want to come take a look at them.”
“Thank you, Nurse Chelsea. If I weren’t already married, I’d kiss you, but then my wife would kill me”, he said with a laugh.”
“Well, you can just tell me thank you and get your David Draiman look alike ass up here and look at these test results so you can help that girl.”
He laughed. “Thank you, Nurse Chelsea, yet again. I’ll be right up”, he said and hung up the phone. He took a quick look at his watch as he grabbed a Mountain Dew from the dorm fridge he kept in his office. It was 4:15. He’d JUST laid down fifteen minutes before. Such was life when you worked in the medical profession. After chugging the soda, he jogged out of the lab and up the stairs so that he could get to the elevator that would take him to his floor.
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“So, what do you have for me, Nurse?” he asked as he approached the nurses’ station.
She handed him the digital clip board that held all of the test results. “That’s everything you ordered, Dr. Draiman.”
He looked at the results and cursed under his breath adamantly. “GOD DAMN IT, MOTHER FUCKING, SON OF A MOTHER FUCKING BITCH!”
“What’s wrong, Doctor?”
He slammed the clip board down on the counter to the nurses’ station. “I CAN’T FIND THAT FUCKING CLOT!” he shouted.
“Maybe you should go down to PT and hit the weight bag, Dr. Draiman.”
“No, I’ve got a better idea. I have an ass load of interns to scare the shit out of. If they think I lost my temper when I sent Cassidy packing, they’ve got another thing coming. I want my break through and I’m going to be an asshole until I get it. Even if I have to get rid of all of them and do the fucking work by myself!” He turned and walked away.
“I still think you should hit the weight bag”, she called after him as he hit the down button on the elevator repeatedly, his impatience starting to show.
He ignored her. He’d remained calm and rational until he saw those results. He was starting to lose hope for his work. People trying to sabotage him, his interns lying to him. He’d taken all he could take. And NOW, the elusive blood clot disappeared yet a fucking gain. He was at a total loss as to what to do. He needed to vent. As he watched the numbers tick down slowly, he balled up his fist and punched the elevator door repeatedly. He knew his knuckles would be swollen, but he didn’t care. He’d ice them later. He didn’t give a fuck at the moment. When he got down to the lab, he went straight down to his office, slammed the door behind him and started tearing up the office. There was nothing in the office that was safe from his anger. Books, paper weights, his laptop case… it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t bolted down or in the lab, it went flying.
The interns stared at the office in horror. They’d never seen Dr. Draiman lose his temper before. They thought they’d seen him mad before when Cassidy botched the experiment. That had nothing on what they were seeing in front of them at that moment. They were all honest to GOD afraid.
Finally, he stopped throwing things and sat down at the desk. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it to make a call. Before he hit the call button, he went to the door of his office and yelled at the interns. “Is there something in here that you find entertaining?” he asked. They all shook their heads. “Then what the hell are you looking at? You have things to be doing. I have a phone call to make and WE have people with traumatic brain injury to treat! I have a patient upstairs that’s been stroking out and thinks she’s thirteen years old! I have a friend who was in a motorcycle accident and still has speech problems. I have a Marine upstairs that’s in a fucking wheelchair because of fucking mortar shell to the head. If you don’t want to be a part of helping them, get lost. I’m to the point where I don’t want to look at you if you’re not going to take this seriously. I’m sick and tired of dealing with you slacking. Get your ass in gear or get the fuck out of here. This isn’t a walk in the park, you should have known that when you applied for this. I’m sick and tired of arguing with you when you decide to show up late when I TOLD you ALL to be here on time. Dr. Emerson, Dr. Franklin, and Dr. Carver can stay, the rest of you need to get lost. I’m done with it all! Get bent and get lost!” he shouted as he slammed the door again and went back to his phone call.
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“Johns Hopkins University Medical Center Call Center, how may I direct your call?” a young woman asked
when his call was answered.
“Yes, I need to be transferred to the Director of Neurology’s office.”
“You need to speak with Dr. Goodman? Who’s calling please?”
“Dr. J. Micah Draiman.”
“Right away, Dr. Draiman.”
The line went dead for a moment, then started ringing again. “Jacob, how are you?” a hardy tenor asked.
“Not bad, Frank. I’ve got a dilemma, though.”
“One of your traumatic brain injury patients?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s going on with the patient?” Jake went over what was going on with Yvette with his former professor. “Have you ordered all of the usual tests?”
“A million times and none of them find ANYTHING. It’s frustrating as hell.” Jake scratched at his head lightly, then rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m at a loss, Frank. I’m good, you and I both know that, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“Have you tried to run an EEG and monitor the stroke?”
Jake’s eyes went wide. “No, I haven’t.”
“Give that a try. You might be able to find the clot through process of elimination. See what in the brain is active and what’s not during the stroke with the EEG and her behavior during the event.”
“And that’s why you’re the professor and I’m but a humble young recent graduate.”
“Can the crap, Draiman. You don’t have a humble bone in your body.”
Jake laughed. He couldn’t help it. “My mother might beg to differ.”
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He went up to Neurology with a smile on his face. When he got up there, he went straight to Yvette’s room. “Hey Yvette. How are you feeling?”
“Like hell still.”
“I’m sorry, honey. Well, I need to run one more test. I’m going to hook this machine up to your head, then we’re going to put up a video camera. This way I might be a locate that damn blood clot.”
“Well, if there’s a chance that you might, then I’m ok with that, Dr. D. I hate these strokes. They’re not very fun.”
He smiled. “I understand that. I’m hoping that we can find it and carefully have it removed.”
“That would be good. No more strokes means no more numb face.”
“Unless there’s something impinging in the trigeminal nerve.”
“That causes Bell’s Palsy, doesn’t it?
“Yep.”
“I’m ready to get this over with. Let’s start the test.”
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