I’m getting fired.
That’s it. I’m definitely getting fired.
Dr. Donovan hasn’t said as much, but I know it. There’s no way to come back from this.
He pulled me aside, and I told him everything. I told him about when I first noticed Otto’s toxin levels rising in September. I told him about how Otto had begged me to keep it a secret—I need my friend Diego, he’d told me, not Doctor Diego.
So I did. I kept his secret. I kept his results away from prying eyes. I pretended like everything was normal.
I sat on my hands, and I did nothing as Otto got worse and worse.
This is on me. My fault.
I feel like I’ve swallowed a tennis ball.
There’s no coming back from this. His son is sick. His son is dying. And I prioritized my friendship instead of my patient’s needs.
I’ll be fired. Probably kicked out of the medical field completely.
And now, there’s nothing to do but sit here and swallow back my shame and guilt.
There’s a chair in the hall. I take it. I close my eyes and rest my head on the wall. My head is throbbing, a purpling headache.
“Diego?”
I glance up. Helen Humphrey is calling me over.
She has her gray sweater pulled over her hands, and she twists the fabric anxiously as she approaches.
Immediately, I stand up. I do my best to push all thoughts of Otto to the back of my mind. “Mrs. Humphrey. Is everything okay?”
When we got the results of the CT scan yesterday, I didn’t find anything abnormal in his scans, so I discharged him. It didn’t seem right to keep him in the hospital for Christmas Eve when nothing was technically wrong.
“He fainted again. This morning.”
My heart falls. Crap. What did I miss…?
“I wanted to see if you had the results of those blood tests—”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “We’ve been busy today.”
I’m in plain clothes. I’m technically off the clock. But—
“I’ll go check on him right now,” I tell her.
“Diego.” Her voice is tight suddenly. “I…well. There’s something I feel like I should tell you.”
My skin tingles. Here we go…
“You can tell me anything,” I tell her.
Helen glances away and lets out a huff of a sigh. “He’s just…he’s been such a curmudgeon. I was tired of it, you know? I just wanted one nice, happy holiday season.”
“Alright…”
“And then I saw those commercials on TV. The ones for that pill Promext.”
I fight back a wince. Promext is yet another “miracle drug” they’ve been advertising around. It calls itself an antidepressant, but it’s recently been recalled for—
Oh. Suddenly. I see where this is going.
“I know I shouldn’t have,” she says in a rush. “But I thought, what could it hurt? I started crushing up the pills and putting them in his coffee. For a couple days, he was happy! Really happy! I didn’t think it would—”
I give her arm a squeeze. “Thank you for telling me. Which room is he in?”
“402.” There’s alarm in her voice now. “Did I do something wrong…?”
“Stay here.”
“Doctor—”
I don’t have time to finish my explanation. I take off down the hall. When I rush into Mr. Humphrey’s room, I see it’s already a flurry of activity.
“What happened?” I ask.
Two nurses and a doctor crowd around Mr. Humphrey. He has an oxygen mask on, and his eyes are rolling back.
“Who are you?” the doctor says, annoyed.
Dr. Donovan charged me with this patient. He’s my responsibility.
“I’m his doctor.”
The doctor’s eyes flicker over me briefly. “He’s coding,” the doctor tells me, his voice short and impatient. He starts to tell me the list of medications he’s giving him, but immediately, I interrupt.
“Don’t. He’s on Promext. It’s a hemorrhagic stroke.” I step in, calling the orders. The nurses glance at me, then at the doctor. “Now,” I tell them.
The nurses follow my instructions, getting to work. His blood pressure levels out, and the rapid bleating of the heart rate machine diminishes.
The red numbers flicker to green. He’s level again.
One of the nurses looks up at me and gives me a small smile. “Good work, Doctor.”
I realize I’ve broken into a sweat. My legs are suddenly jelly, and I have to brace myself against the wall.
Mr. Humphrey could have died on me. We were this close.
He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.
I close my eyes, and for just a moment, I let myself breathe a sigh of relief.
