Bad Doctor

VIII

Lainey Sue died several times on my table, but with her walnut-sized heart in my skilled hands, she came back to life again and again. You’d think this kid was Joan of Arc, the way she fought so valiantly! I got into it like I always do, hurling blood-curdling insults at my colleagues, my hospital, Lainey Sue, her innards, her parents, and even Calfee Coffee, which I actually like.

By the time it was over the nurses were sobbing with joy, and I’d gone through my entire repertoire of oaths and cuss words at least six times, having used them in every possible combination.

My hands were cramped beyond use, my nerves frayed, and the tendons in my back and neck were twisted and gnarled like Gordian Knots from the mental and physical exhaustion that comes from total concentration while standing in a precise position for hours at a time. Like always, the pain in my head felt life-threatening.

On the table, Lainey Sue was resting quietly, pink and fit.

Nurse Janet gushed, “What an amazing little girl! She absolutely refused to die!”

To me she said, “I’m filing a grievance against you for sexual harassment and verbal abuse.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “You’ve worked with me before. You know how I am.”

“Never again. I’m done.”

“We just saved a life here. Do you really care about a few cuss words?”

“You’re getting worse.”

“How?”

“You’re a complete psychopath. You called me the C-word. You barked like a dog.”

“Which C-word?”

“All of them. You called me things that didn’t even make sense.”

“I was in a zone!”

Nurse Margaret said, “She’s right. I’ve never heard such vile language. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

She shook her head. “And the things you said to that poor child? And the names you called her?”

She crossed herself.

Then said, “You cursed like a drunken sailor, speaking in tongues.”