The Fellowship Page 4

  That last statement shocked the surgeon. "But sir, I wasn’t down there… What do you mean by a fan club?"

  Ian had found a source of contention in her armor. She absolutely hated to be liked, perhaps seeing it as a weakness in one’s character. He thought about that for a moment before goading her. "Doc, don’t let it worry you. You did well in their eyes; today you’re the hero. Next time you could be the thorn in their side. It’s a day to day kind of thing," Ian forewarned the surgeon. "I’ll see you around."

  "Humph!" Garrett said with disgust as the line went dead. She wasn’t here to cater to the whims of the nursing staff. If anything, it would be the nurses who catered to her.

  ‘Well, I can’t wait to see what a big hit I’m gonna be with the night crew,’ Garrett mused staring at the phone. The nursing staff had always been a puzzle to Trivoli, whether in the Navy or in the civilian sector. One nurse could accept you as a person and the next would merely look on you as an intruder in their domain. Funny how you never quite knew which way it would be until you were thick in the middle of some crisis. Hopefully, things will go just as well tonight as it had this morning. After all, they were all there for the same reason. The number one priority in the surgeon’s mind was always how successful her skills had been on her patient. Garrett could not see it any other way.

  *************

  Always put the patient before one’s self was the surgeon’s motto. Today was no exception to the rule as Dr. Trivoli stopped in the recovery area to check on Lucky Doe before she found the cafeteria. The patient now had a much better color than the bloodstained pallor of earlier. Checking the chart, one could see that the Chief Resident had only signed out several minutes before.

  Garrett was pleased to see that the warning about how a patient was cared for had been heeded. Perhaps this would be a very enlightening year after all. Satisfied, the surgeon continued in the quest for nourishment.

  ‘Perhaps a meal might make me a bit more mellow for the next shift of nurses,’ pondered Trivoli. ‘I at least owe them that or they’ll think of me as some kind of dark ages warlord.’ It was going to be a long time until this night would be over and a hungry surgeon was not always the most tolerant of new surroundings or people.

  The time was well after 1800 hours when Garrett was making her way to the cafeteria. The sight of her department head took her by surprise as he came down the hall toward her, still dressed in his lab coat. She would have thought him gone by now. His eyes lifted to settle on her striking figure and a spark of recognition came to his face. He quickly maneuvered the hallway, darting between its human obstacles until he was face to face with the tall surgeon.

  "Ah, there you are Dr. Trivoli. I need to talk to you." His voice was calm and unwavering as he motioned toward his office down the hall. "Let’s go into my office, shall we?"

  Nodding, the woman followed him into the office. The surgeon’s mind was racing with thoughts. She was sure that it had something to do with the trauma patient she had operated on all day. Had she done anything wrong? She reviewed her earlier actions, flying through them as she settled herself into the brisk pace of her superior. ‘Shit rolls down hill, well I guess I get it straight from the top now.’ She thought about the Navy and its ways, the chain of command and how the orders and discipline came down through the ranks. ‘Well, let’s see, the ball will start rolling with the Chief of the Service/Attending who will question the Fellow then pass it down to the Chief Resident who will ream out the Resident who in turn will yell at the Intern who will blame the Medical Student. Yeah, that seems right.’ It was all coming back to her, the civilian hospital chain of command.

  "Dr. McMurray, I…" she started only to be interrupted.

  "Have a seat, Dr. Trivoli," the older man pointed to a chair on the other side of his large desk as they entered the room.

  The office was large, a symbol of his importance in the hospital setting. It was modestly furnished with several photos of the good doctor in his travels fashionably displayed among the bookcases and on the desk. Garrett’s eyes studied them as she sat down in the appointed chair. There was a common person in each of the photos next to the distinguished surgeon; it was a woman who always appeared at his right side, a gentle smile gracing her face.

  Noticing her interest in the photo on his desk, he picked it up and began to reminisce. "This one was taken when I was in New Guinea," a smile crossed his face. "We spent two weeks there, my wife and I."

  "She’s a beautiful woman, Sir." The tall surgeon leaned forward to get a better look. "You must have had some wonderful times traveling with your wife."

  "Yes, we did. Heck! We still do." His index finger gently glided over her image under the glass. "Best thing I ever did," he grunted, "I’d do it again." He regretfully put the frame back on his desk, allowing his eyes to linger on it for a brief moment longer. "Well, enough about me. I want to talk about you." His voice was now all business as his brown eyes stared directly at her.

  The surgeon felt like she was being dissected right there in his office, his piercing gaze trying its best to cut deep into her soul. Her back stiffened and her shoulders squared in a mock attempt to ward off his insight into her being. She had a thick shell, one that had hardened over the years and she was sure that no one would be able to penetrate through it. It had been her survival tactic and allowed her to move from one station in life to another, never fearing the hurt that life brought with it. After all, it couldn’t hurt if it never got close enough to her to leave any impression.

  Steel colored eyes locked onto brown as she asked, "What about me?" She leaned slightly forward as if to challenge the man.

  They stayed there for what seemed to be an eternity, until McMurray blinked as he sucked on his teeth making a sharp noise. He sat down in his high-backed leather chair and swiveled it away from her, his mind gauging her boldness. ‘She may be a woman, but she’s got balls bigger than a lot of men I’ve known.’ His mind recounted his first day as a Fellow many years ago. He saw so much of himself in her that it was scary to think about. Right then and there he made his mind up. She was going to learn in the next year what had taken him so many years to realize. Her skills as a surgeon were by far more superior to the other two Fellows. He would teach her what she needed to know to enhance those skills and her life, not to mention the lives of all those around her.

  He decided to take a hard line with her and his tone of voice showed it as he began speaking. "Every year I saddle one Fellow and make it their duty to establish a good working relationship with the E.R. staff." He swung the chair around to face her. "This year that person is you." His eyes squinted as he looked at her.

  Her mouth opened abruptly. "What?" The puzzlement was written all over her face.

  "You heard me. I want you to be the liaison between this department and the E.R., and that means starting immediately."

  "Why me? Why not one of the other two?" She paused. "If it’s because I’m a woman…" shades of discrimination and sexual harassment ebbing at the edges of her mind.

  He looked out of the corner of his eye and pointed directly at her with his right hand as he fished for something out of the drawer to his left. "I don’t ever want to hear that in my office again." He pulled three folders out of the drawer and threw them on the desk. "It’s all in here," he pointed to them. "Check for yourself if you’d like."

  She looked down to see the name listed on each of the folders, Dr. Rene Chabot, Dr. Nathaniel Hostetler, and her own, Dr. Garrett Trivoli, was written on the outside. Her eyes looked up to his, pleading for some kind of answer.

  "Dr. Chabot won’t have the time to invest with a family due to deliver in the next few months and Dr. Hostetler, although unmarried, will need to devote all of his time to honing his surgical skills. That leaves only you, Dr. Trivoli. You have no family, your surgical skills are refined and beyond reproach. I’ve got to teach you something in this program and this is what I have chosen for you. I suggest that you make it your bus
iness to be a part of the overall picture in that E.R. and that means spending time with the staff both inside these walls and outside in their private lives, too. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it."

  The look on his face was one of no nonsense and she knew it. "But…" she grasped at thin air for words.

  "No buts, Trivoli. I want to see you be a leader here, not just another blade in the system. I believe that you have a lot of untapped potential. You just haven’t figured it out yet." He shook his head as he thought of his recent discussion with several very irate O.R. staff members. "As a surgeon, your main goal is to heal through surgical intervention for the well-being of your patient." He glared at her, his face showing his anger. "Not through the use of confrontation and a demeaning attitude toward your staff. You keep this up, Trivoli, and no one will want to work with you. Then we’ll see just how perfect your little world will be when you’re all by yourself in that surgical theater."

  His face softened and his voice mellowed as he reached out and touched the photo on his desk again. "Besides, you’re going to learn real fast that those nurses aren’t the enemy. One day that nurse that you threw your weight at today could very well save your butt and the patient’s, too." He glanced at the photo, then back to her. "Now go and think about what I’ve said."

  She immediately jumped to her own defense. "But I’m a damn good surgeon. Why should I…"

  "Because YOU," his forefinger shot out aimed right at her face. "You are a mere cog in this piece of machinery that we call a hospital. The last time I looked, Dr. Trivoli, I was the one writing your ticket in this program. Now, unless you are willing to give up this Trauma Fellowship, I must demand that you learn to become a part of the whole and not cause a hole in any part." He paused long enough for her to digest that last statement. "Did I make myself clear enough?"

  Garrett rose from the seat and turned to leave. Reaching for the doorknob she paused and turned to face her new mentor. Before she could speak, she saw McMurray thumbing through her folder. "I’ll try not to let you down, Sir, but don’t expect me to change overnight. I’ve had a lot of practice at being as demanding of those that work with me as I have of myself."

  "Good! Then you’ll learn to accept your own shortcomings at the same time as you do everybody else’s. Garrett, learn to get off of the high horse you’ve imagined yourself on and people may just start looking up to you for who you are, not what you are." His head never came up from out of its absorption in the folder.

  "I’ll see what I can do." She exited the office and stopped dead just a few steps down the hall. This was going to be harder than she had anticipated. She shook her head and wondered what freight train had just run through and left a large gaping hole in her plan for the rest of her life. Seething to herself, she named it the "McMurray Special," vowing to never be caught in its path again. She would live with it this time, she had to, and nobody bailed out on the first day of a Fellowship Program. Besides, it was against her nature to give up.

  Chapter 4

  The bright afternoon sun was filtering in at the edges of the room-darkening blinds as the form began to stir from sleep. The bed was huge compared to the small body that nestled in the middle, with its face buried into the queen-size pillow. The last remnants of a dream still whispered through the fog as one slowly transpired the states of unconsciousness to reality. The dream seemed to have no beginning or end. It was more like fragments of lives through the ages. The same persons reappearing in different scenarios. It was always the same, never a story or a name. Just bits and pieces of someone’s life that had been captured on film yet clipped out for some reason.

  The small blonde woman ran her hand through her hair, fighting to come fully into the world of consciousness. Her green eyes opened to a new day as the mind hung on desperately to the last image of her dream; a dark-haired warrior loomed near with a spear clenched in both hands. The image started to fade as the warrior turned to look at her, a twinkle shining in its brave blues eyes. It had not made the transgression into the real world and for this Danni was grateful. It was not that the dream had scared her, but that it was always so cryptic in nature. If only she could understand what it was about or what it meant.

  Danni flopped over onto her back, her head settling into the soft fluffy pillow. ‘If only there was some sort of reason or meaning to all of these dreams,’ she thought, smiling to herself. ‘Or nightmares as the case may be.’ Her face changed rapidly to a smirk.

  The images had been with her since she could remember. They had always manifested themselves in the moments just prior to awakening. For this reason, Danni had always believed that she needed to try to remember them.

  Her hand reached out, capturing the journal that was kept on the nightstand for this reason. Rolling over onto her elbows she hastily opened the book and seized the pen that was clipped to the page of her last entry. Hurriedly dating the page she began to follow her routine of describing her dream so as not to miss a single element before it escaped her. She had often thought that one day they would all make sense. Well, perhaps in her mind some little detail would set off a chain of events that would help her make sense of it all. When and if that would ever happen was beyond Danni’s control. Now, she just did what she could to preserve them until that time came.

  Her task done, she began to emerge form the large bed and slowly shuffled towards the bathroom. Her mind turned to the challenges at hand. Time to shower and start a new day in her life.

  The briskness of the water always made Danni think she was off somewhere in the forest, bathing in a refreshing mountain stream. There was an odd familiarity to the chilling response that made her shiver with the initial contact. The thought of the warrior now fading from her mind as her body enjoyed the sensation of the water cascading down her naked form. The long shower ritual would allow her mind and body to join together into a single state of consciousness; ready for whatever the day would bring her way.

  ************

  It was the first of July, the starting date of the new medical staff year. The young nurse began to mentally prepare herself for the grueling night ahead. Another year of training, teaching, and maybe even making a friend or two like she had with David. Her mind thought back to their first encounter several years ago when he had just come to the hospital. That shy, boyish intern over the years had matured into a competent surgeon and, along the way, won a place in many of the nurses’ hearts. Danni smiled at the memory, laughing quietly at the numerous times that Rosie had insisted Danni and David would make the perfect couple. She was thankful that the Doctor had never mustered the courage to ask her out. Deep in her heart, she knew that somewhere David would find a mirrored soul that would complement his reserved manner. It just wasn’t hers. Silently, a prayer rose off her lips for the safekeeping of her friend’s soul until that time came.

  The locker room door opened, allowing the din from the hallway to break Danni’s train of thought. Her eyes moved toward the door, only to see her fellow trauma nurse bounce through the doorway, her face beaming.

  "Ah, Danni, my friend, have you heard the buzz in the E.R. about my Dr. Trivoli?" Rosie asked.

  "I haven’t even ventured out through…hey, what do you mean YOUR Dr. Trivoli?" A puzzled look was on her face, she had heard stories that the flirtatious nurse was a fast mover, but could she have already made this supposedly battle-hardened Trauma Fellow surrender to her charm. ‘No, it’s got to be wishful thinking,’ Danni shook her head in wonder.

  "Unless Garrett Trivoli is bald, fat, over forty with a wife and kids in tow," Rosie stated looking her straight in the eye, "someone’s gonna be thanking their lucky stars tonight. The surgeon just doesn’t know it yet."

  "Well, this I want to see. The poor guy won’t know what to think when he sees you across from him in the trauma suite," she teased. "So what’s this buzz that you were asking me about?"

  "It seems that my Garrett ran the trauma team with all new faces this morning for that multipl
e gunshot patient like it was a well-oiled machine. They had four units of blood hung, X-rays done, and patient to the O.R. in less than twelve minutes." Her face was registering sheer bliss. "The staff is saying that Trivoli’s voice was like a god’s."

  The blonde nurse was shocked. This was the day every year that never ran perfectly, especially for a Level One Trauma, not at the beginning of the daylight shift. Her interest was peaked; she could not wait to see this surgeon in action. "Did the patient survive?" she asked tentatively.

  "Of course," Rosie said with an arrogant flair. "But only after many hours of difficult surgery and painstaking care to prevent any complications down the road to recovery."

  "I guess the patient was lucky, huh."

  A broad smile came to the starry eyed nurse, "Funny, that’s what Steve named him, Lucky Doe."

  Both nurses were finishing their exchange of summer clothing for the traditional hospital scrub top and pants of the trauma team when Rosie grabbed Danni’s arm and pleaded, "You got to change assignments with me. You be the trauma nurse and let me back you up as butt nurse. O.K.?"