The moment Dr. Cantor had taken his seat, Dr. Hernandez got up and returned to the lectern. After adjusting the microphone down to accommodate his height, he cleared his throat and said: “Now I want to introduce to you our brand-new super chief resident, Dr. Noah Rothauser.” With that he gestured up toward Noah.
As Noah got to his feet and began descending the steep stairs that lead down into the pit, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as well as his pulse begin to hammer in his temples. There was a smattering of applause and a few teasing catcalls and some playful laughter in the audience. Noah was popular not only with the nursing staff but also with his fellow residents. One of the reasons was practical: If ever anyone needed someone to cover for whatever reason, everyone knew Noah never turned anyone down regardless of the hour or the day of the week.
Noah kept his eyes down and concentrated on avoiding a fall, as that would be a scene he’d never live down. Not only were the amphitheater’s stairs abnormally steep, there was no handrail. Once in the pit, he walked directly to the lectern, feeling himself blush. Dr. Hernandez had returned to his seat.
After adjusting the microphone up, he still hunched over, then raised his eyes to gaze directly at the twenty-four brand-new first-year residents. He started to speak, but his voice came out in an otherworldly squeak, making him clear his throat. When he began again, he sounded relatively normal, at least to himself.
“I would like to add a welcome to you all,” he said while he made eye contact with each new resident in turn and gained confidence as he did so. “I had planned on giving a long, detailed speech about the history of surgery, but I believe that has been adequately covered by our own esteemed surgical professors, who are giants in their respective fields.” Noah briefly turned and nodded toward Hernandez and Cantor, both of whom smiled contentedly as the audience tittered in relief. Noah avoided looking at Drs. Mason and Hiroshi, although he had nothing against Hiroshi, with whom he never had much interaction.
“Instead I would just like to say you are about to begin the most exciting and demanding part of your extensive training, and leave it at that. I would like to add that I wish I could say my office door is always open for whatever reason you might have to pay me a visit, but unfortunately, I do not have an office.”
A few chuckles rapidly grew to a round of real laughter as a reaction to the pomposity of the previous speeches. Noah found himself smiling, too, although he worried that his off-the-cuff attempt at humor might offend Dr. Hernandez. A quick glance reassured him when he saw the chief was at least smiling.
“Office or not,” Noah continued, “I will always be available for whatever reason. Don’t be shy! I’m easy to find. Surgery here at the BMH is a team effort, and we expect everyone to be a team player. You all got your initial rotation assignments, so after the coffee and doughnuts served next door in the Broomfield Hall, we are off to the races. Thank you! And let’s have a fabulous year.”
Noah turned and faced Dr. Hernandez, who had risen to his feet. He was a square-built man, in some ways similar to Dr. Mason but a smaller version, with darker, thicker hair, an olive complexion, and a heavy mustache. In contrast to Dr. Mason’s bluster, he exuded an air of quiet confidence, which he maintained no matter the challenge in either the operating room or the boardroom. “I hope you didn’t take my attempt at humor as a complaint,” Noah said.
“Not at all,” Dr. Hernandez said. “It was unexpected, which made it funny. But you do have an office . . .”
“I have a desk,” Noah corrected. “Not an office.”
“I see,” Dr. Hernandez said, before his attention was hijacked by an attending surgeon who pulled him aside for a quick consult.
Noah noticed several of the new residents, including Lynn Pierce, coming down into the pit and heading in his direction. He couldn’t help but notice Lynn was wearing a very striking yellow summer dress under her white coat. With a minor wave of panic, Noah glanced back at the exit, but before he could beat a retreat, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to face a nurse dressed in scrubs whom he had seen on occasion but with whom he had never spoken.
“Dr. Rothauser, I’m Helen Moran.”
“Hello, Helen,” Noah said.
“I don’t want to take much of your time,” Helen said. “I know you are busy, but I wanted to speak to you briefly about the Bruce Vincent case. I am one of the few people who didn’t personally know him, but I participated in getting him admitted. Rumor has it that he was a victim of the concurrent-surgery process. Is that true?”
Taking a deep breath, Noah tried desperately to organize his thoughts and figure out what to say. In truth, he didn’t want to say anything, as he had been trying to avoid even thinking about Bruce Vincent, but now, gazing into the indignant eyes of Helen Moran, that clearly wasn’t an option. Obviously, he was already being drawn into the minefield he was dreading. There had even been a few unflattering articles about concurrent surgery in the lay press.
“I have yet to investigate the case,” Noah said vaguely.
“I hope the case is going to be presented at next week’s M&M Conference.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Noah said. “It was a tragedy, which certainly needs to be aired to see if we can learn anything to keep it from happening again in the future.”
“Didn’t Dr. Mason have two other cases going at the exact same time? That’s what I heard.”
“I will be checking in on that for certain,” Noah said.
“I hope you do. I happen to know that was the situation, and I personally think that concurrent surgery shouldn’t be allowed here or anyplace. Plain and simple. Not in this day and age.”
“I’m not fond of the practice myself,” Noah said. “Now, if you can excuse me, I have to get over to Broomfield Hall.”
While Noah had been briefly speaking with Helen Moran, the covey of first-year residents that he had seen approaching had grouped themselves around him. The moment he was free, a batch of simultaneous questions erupted about the on-call schedule. Jokingly, Noah held up his hands as if he needed to protect himself, then pointed toward the exit. “How about we all go next door and get some coffee? I promise I’ll answer all your questions.”
As Noah watched Helen recede in the direction of the door, there was another tap on his shoulder. This time it was significantly more forceful, causing Noah to have to take a step forward to maintain his balance. With a twinge of irritation, he spun around to complain, but then swallowed his words. He found himself facing Dr. Mason. The man’s expression had changed from boredom to a scowl.
“I heard what you said to that woman,” Mason growled. “Let me tell you, my friend! You’d better tread lightly about this Vincent case or you are going to be in big trouble.” To emphasize his point, Mason stabbed Noah a number of times in the chest with one of his thick index fingers.