“Got it,” Noah replied. He tried to calm himself, but it was difficult. He was watching Dr. Lynn Pierce, a first-year resident, sew up the skin under the watchful eye of Dr. Arnold Wells, a third-year senior resident. Dr. Pierce was doing a credible job even though it was her first time doing so. She had spent her first month in the SICU, or surgical intensive-care unit, where she had done a superb job. Now she was rotating on the gastrointestinal service.
The operation had been a pancreatectomy, Dr. Mason’s specialty, and Noah was pleased with his performance. He’d used Dr. Mason’s technique to the letter and had accomplished the difficult surgery almost as quickly as Dr. Mason, a tribute both to the technique and Noah’s dexterity. Noah was known as one of the fastest residents when it came to doing surgery. It wasn’t that he rushed. It was just that he knew the anatomy cold and had exceptional hand-eye coordination. There was never any wasted motion.
“Would you guys mind if I duck out?” Noah asked. He couldn’t stand the tension of not knowing why the chief wanted to see him, especially by having him paged in the middle of an operation.
“Not at all,” Arnold said. Lynn didn’t respond, as she was concentrating on her suturing.
After a quick chat with the anesthesiologist about post-op orders on the patient, Noah hurried toward the men’s locker room to change out of his scrubs. As he powerwalked the length of the OR suite, it occurred to him that the most likely explanation was that Dr. Kumar had finally gotten to Dr. Hernandez to complain about Noah’s importunate Friday-afternoon visit. Racking his brains, Noah tried to think up some elaborate explanation of why he had gone directly to the chief of Anesthesia bypassing Dr. Hernandez. Unfortunately, Noah didn’t feel very creative, since he was exhausted and already on edge.
The previous night Noah had slept little, unable to stop fretting about his Ph.D. thesis being on Dr. Mason’s desk. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why or how it had gotten there and why there were bookmarks at various data tables. Recalling Dr. Mason’s threat to do his best to have Noah dismissed, there could be only one explanation. Was that something Noah had to worry about? He didn’t know, but it had made him feel extremely agitated.
Unable to sleep with his mind in turmoil, Noah had gotten up at three in the morning and had returned to the hospital. For lack of anything else to do, he’d started his prep for the next M&M Conference, even though by doing so he’d also had to contend with thoughts of Ava. When he had done the Tuesday resident surgical schedule, he’d seen that she was assigned to cases on Tuesday, meaning she was back from wherever she had gone. It had made him wonder if he’d run into her by chance, and if he did how he would react, but it hadn’t happened.
Noah took the stairs to get down to the third floor, once again anxious about heading to a confrontation with someone who had the power to derail his career ambitions. Obviously, it was a fear he was never to outgrow.
When Noah presented himself in front of Dr. Hernandez’s charming secretary, Mrs. Kimble, who was the antithesis of Miss Lancaster, he was asked to take a seat in the common administrative waiting area. She said she would come and get him when Dr. Hernandez was ready. Her pleasant attitude seemed entirely normal, which Noah took as a good sign. As he sat down he felt a bit more at ease. Another idea had occurred to him. Maybe Dr. Hernandez wanted to congratulate him on his first resident evaluation report, which Noah had turned in the day before. Noah did feel confident the report had been done with appropriate attention to detail, and it was entirely positive, which was unique. Contrary to most years, none of the first-year residents were having any difficulty adapting to the rigors of the program.
With these thoughts in mind, Noah was feeling confident until a small parade of additional authority figures appeared, including Dr. Cantor, Dr. Mason, Dr. Hiroshi, and, strangely enough, Gloria Hutchinson, the president of the hospital. Chatting together, all of them trooped into Dr. Hernandez’s office and disappeared behind a closed door.
Now Noah’s anxiety returned in a rush as the minutes ticked by. Were all these bigwigs going to be part of the meeting with Noah, or was Noah merely waiting until their meeting with Dr. Hernandez was over? If it was to be the former, something rather extraordinary was afoot, especially with Dr. Mason’s presence. If it was the latter, things might turn out okay. Noah took his pulse, which was normally in the sixty-per-minute range. Now it was one hundred and ten, and he could feel it in his temples.
Tossing aside an old issue of Time magazine, Noah concentrated on Mrs. Kimble. He’d concluded that her behavior was key. To his dismay, a few minutes later, after hanging up her phone, she pushed back from the desk and stood. As she started in Noah’s direction, he could feel his pulse rate jump from its already fast pace.
“Dr. Hernandez can see you now,” Mrs. Kimble said with the same pleasantness she’d used before. This time Noah wasn’t fooled. The meeting was going to be with the whole group.
When Noah got into the inner office, his worst fears seemed justified. Dr. Hernandez did not get up as he usually had in the past, and he exuded an alarming intensity. Dr. Cantor and Dr. Hiroshi were sitting by the window in side chairs. Gloria Hutchinson was on the couch, looking as serious as Dr. Hernandez. Next to her was Dr. Mason with an expression of pompous self-satisfaction. But worst of all, from Noah’s viewpoint, was catching sight of his wayward thesis perched on Dr. Hernandez desk. This impromptu meeting was not about the resident evaluation report, or his misguided meeting with Dr. Kumar, but something far more serious.
With no seat available and no verbal direction from Dr. Hernandez, Noah stopped in the middle of the room. He felt agonizingly vulnerable, facing not one but four authority figures. His heart was racing. When no one spoke or moved, Noah felt pressured to break the silence: “You wanted to see me, sir?” The pitch of his voice was higher than he would have liked.
“That’s correct,” Dr. Hernandez snapped angrily. Then, in his signature bombastic style, he launched into a mini-lecture about how seriously the surgical department took ethical breaches, emphasizing that the BMH, as one of the country’s premier tertiary-care and teaching programs, was obliged to set a high standard for professional integrity and honesty.
As Dr. Hernandez droned on, Noah glanced at the other people in the room. Most had assumed a glazed look, except for Dr. Mason, who was enjoying every second. A sudden slapping sound yanked Noah’s attention back to Dr. Hernandez. The chief’s hand was now resting on the top of Noah’s Ph.D. thesis.