Capítulo 70: Chapter 70
"Wait a moment, PJ," Dr. Bergin said nervously. "Do you really know Dr. Elis Grey?" he asked, causing the other doctors present in the OR to once again stare at me intently.
So I'm PJ now.
"Yeah, I first met her last year, a couple of days after Dr. Thomas won the Nobel Prize, at his congratulatory party," I said, noticing that despite being 'distracted' talking to me, the doctor's work on the table wasn't affected.
"Dr. Thomas?" murmured the assistant doctor, Anderson, if I remembered correctly. "So the article was real?" he asked, raising his attention.
Hearing the question, most of the doctors present, residents, and even those in the unusually crowded gallery, seemed eager for my response.
"Well, most of it," I replied, recalling House's 'words.' "Dr. House connected me with Dr. Thomas, and I sent my own research to the latter. Apparently, it was useful," I added, slightly nervous from all the stares.
"So it was real?" Dr. Bergin asked, surprised. "I thought it was just a damn bad joke by House," he added, incredulous.
"That definitely would be a House joke," I said slowly, "but it wasn't."
"I was so sure— I mean, those words from House— did Dr. Cuddy threaten him?" the doctor asked, becoming increasingly friendly. It was impressive how the doctors' attitudes changed when they saw you as 'their equal.' First Dr. Grey, and now Joe Bergin.
"That was Dr. Wilson, long story," I said uncomfortably. "What type of vascular tie are you using for the mesoappendix ligation?" I asked, trying to change the subject, even though I knew perfectly well what the doctor was doing.
"Oh, great question, PJ," despite not being able to see his entire face, I knew the man was now smiling— really unpleasant. "It's a simple ligation with sutures."
"And why a simple ligation and not a transfixing ligation?" I asked, genuinely interested. The latter was theoretically the safest option to prevent any postoperative bleeding.
"Another great question from young PJ. Dr. Anderson, care to explain?" Dr. Bergin said cheerfully.
"It's generally done for speed and efficiency. A transfixing ligation is used when the tissue is friable or inflamed. In this case, it isn't, so a transfixing ligation isn't really necessary," the assistant doctor kindly explained.
"Got it, thanks," I said, studying the tissue Dr. Bergin was working on. I had seen the same tissue hundreds of times, in a lab or a classroom, completely dead and dehydrated. It was incredible to see how it really looked in person.
"So..." Dr. Bergin said, moving his head slightly. "How is Dr. Grey in her everyday life? As excellent as in the OR? She must be," the man said eagerly.
And all my fun using my 'relationship' with Dr. Grey vanished as quickly as it came. I immediately regretted my words.
"Yeah," I replied after a heavy sigh, "we could say that," I added, murmuring.
And with that, as if I had asked them to question me about Dr. Grey and Dr. Thomas, the remaining twenty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds were filled with incessant questions from the doctors present about Dr. Thomas's and Dr. Grey's research.
"Whenever you want to visit any other surgery, you're always welcome in my OR, PJ," at the end of the surgery, with his hand on my shoulder, Dr. Bergin said, smiling exaggeratedly.
"Sure, doctor, thank you very much"—no, definitely not.
"Kid, I was looking for you, and look where I found you, with the surgeons," House said at the end of the hallway with disgust in his tone, eyeing the other doctors around and even going so far as to exaggeratedly distance himself from any doctors nearby. For the first and surely the last time in my life, I was truly relieved to hear his voice.
"House, why didn't you tell anyone about the incredible talent you were cultivating?" ignoring the other doctor's words and behavior, Dr. Bergin asked amicably, patting my shoulder.
"Bergin, if I told everyone what I 'cultivate,' I'd be in jail or in Mexico right now, you know it's still illegal," House said sarcastically, mimicking smoking with his hand. "Let's go, kid, the hiccup guy is back," House said, strangely excited as he walked away.
"Sorry, doctor," pretending to be sorry for having to leave, I said, separating myself from Dr. Bergin. "Thank you very much for today," I added, walking slowly towards where House was heading.
"It's okay, PJ, duty calls," the man obviously swallowing my false act, replied calmly. "You won't keep him for long; surgery is calling him, and you know it," he exclaimed excitedly, clearly shouting at House.
"Who's he talking to?" House asked me as we walked toward the exit of the surgery wing.
"You, I think," I replied.
"I tend to ignore surgeons," House declared sarcastically.
"Just surgeons?" I asked sarcastically.
"Huh," House exclaimed, widening his eyes exaggeratedly, "Did you say something?" he asked.
"Did the hiccup guy really come back?" I asked, ignoring House's game and genuinely interested.
"Yes," House said, smiling broadly and amused.
"Jumping on one leg?" I asked.
"While slapping his face— I like it," House replied seriously, obviously excited by the idea.
Sure enough, in the office House always used, the same man from last time, hiccuping happily, greeted me.
"I tried everything you told me last time at home, it didn't work," the man explained, suddenly slapping his face during the conversation.
"Don't worry about it, sir, we'll do our best," I assured the man with a smile.
"Of course we will," with fake pride, or maybe slightly real, House said, smiling and putting his hand on my shoulder.
After several minutes of trying out fun ways to 'bother' the man, I decided to 'take pity' on him, ordering him to stop, much to House's dismay. Despite that, we still had to 'observe' him, waiting to see if his hiccups would change to something more serious.
We spent several hours with the hiccup guy, whose name I later discovered I never learned. House used the time to kill off his clinic hours debt.
The rest of the day was as usual—training with Case, and then home.
"PJ, son," the next day, in one of the school hallways, Coach Cooper approached me, unusually suspicious. "I need to know what you know about Sheldon," he murmured seriously.
"I need you to be more specific, sir," I said, even though I already had a good idea of what it might be.
"This morning, before coming to school, Sheldon wrapped himself in bubble wrap, 'an extra layer of protection,' he said. Do you know from whom?" Mr. Cooper asked, nodding slightly.
"It's not from school," I replied immediately, "which makes me think it's from our street."
"How do you know it's not from school?" Mr. Cooper asked seriously.
"I think I would know. There's not much time when I'm unaware of Sheldon's movements at school," I replied, slightly surprised by how my sentence came out. "We share all classes, so I'm always with him. During lunch, he's with Tam, and Tam would tell me right away if something happened."
"So, not at school," the man repeated, thoughtful.
"Yeah, I don't want to sound arrogant, but everyone knows that Sheldon is under my 'protection,'" I said exaggeratedly.
"Yeah, even we know that," pointing to his chest, Mr. Cooper said, nodding his head. "What am I going to do?" he asked meditatively, sighing.
"I can ask Gabe to make inquiries with the other kids in the neighborhood. I'm sure some kid knows something," I offered, making Mr. Cooper immediately lift his head, interested.
"Great plan," the man said, nodding slowly. "Thanks."
"No problem."
"Son, do you mind if I..." after a few seconds of silence, Mr. Cooper started to say.
"That's a great plan, sir, I'll make sure to ask Gabe as you requested," I interrupted, preempting what he was about to say.
"That's why you're my favorite," the man said, patting my shoulder. "Let's make sure no one knows that," he added in a murmur, checking the school hallway.
Without saying more, Coach Cooper nodded once more, walking away.
That day, just to be sure, I paid much more attention than usual to Sheldon, who, for some reason, remained distracted in class. Fortunately, the kid had a strange schedule that he seemed to never break, especially when it came to bathroom breaks during intervals between classes.
Apart from preventing the crowd of students from dragging him through the school hallways a couple of times, Sheldon had a fairly quiet day, with no one bothering him. At the end of the school day, Sheldon got on the school bus outside of my 'protection.'
Entering the hospital, walking through the same hallway I always passed to reach the diagnostic lounge, one of the nurses from the internal medicine wing, who seemed to be waiting excitedly, quickly approached me.
"I knew you were about to arrive, come on, quickly," grabbing my arm, the woman practically dragged me down
the hallway.
"Well, I usually arrive at the same time, so it's not very hard to figure out," I said with slight sarcasm, letting the woman drag me down the hospital hallway. "Oh, and do you think you could tell me where exactly I need to be in such a hurry?" I asked a moment later, as if it were an afterthought.
"Sure," she said, drawing out the word as we arrived at one of the waiting rooms, "them," she added after a few seconds, scanning the seats.
Luke and his mother, Mrs. Palmero, were sitting on the benches, with only the woman obviously in a wheelchair.
"Betty, why am I here?" I asked, murmuring as I stopped next to the nurse, Betty.
"They've been waiting for you for a few minutes. Mrs. Palmero was finally discharged," Betty replied, still trying to drag me to the small family.
"Waiting for me?" I asked, trying to resist being dragged further.
"Yeah, Mrs. Palmero—" Betty was saying.
"Ah, it's him!" Mrs. Palmero exclaimed, interrupting the nurse. "Luke, honey, take me to him."
Now with no way to avoid the interaction politely, I forced a smile and approached the small family.
"I'll leave you here; I've got things to do," Betty said cheerfully.
Do you really have things to do? Weren't you just waiting for me in the hallway?
"Luke, I heard you were looking for me?" I greeted the boy and asked the two people in front of me.
"That would be me," Mrs. Palmero said, smiling from the wheelchair. "I just wanted to thank the person who saved my life," the woman added sweetly.
"I don't— I think you mean Dr. House. I'll go get him for you," I said nervously.
"Oh, nonsense, I already spoke with Dr. House," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And if I remember correctly, he said it was your idea—no one would believe me; they thought I was crazy," she added, winking.
"Wait, you remember that?" I asked, surprised. The excess copper in her brain should have altered her mind enough to block memories.
"Oh, I remember absolutely everything, from the first appointment to the last," she said, taking Luke's hand and gesturing to the hospital with her free hand. "Even, to my Luke's embarrassment, the things he told me at home," she added, smiling at her son.
"Mom!" Luke exclaimed in a low voice, obviously embarrassed.
"Oh, honey, don't be embarrassed. You telling me about your day was the best part of mine," she assured him tenderly, patting his hand.
"Well, Mrs. Palmero, I'm very glad you're doing well now," I said with a slight smile to the woman, "but you should be at home resting, not sitting in a waiting room," I added seriously.
"Oh, you really do sound like a doctor," the woman said, amused. "You look so young—what are you, one or two years older than my Luke?" she asked, seemingly ignoring my warning.
"I'm sixteen, ma'am, turning seventeen this year," I responded, smiling at her still-embarrassed son.
"One year older? You're like a genius or something?" the woman asked, obviously surprised.
"I just read a lot of books," I replied, slightly embarrassed.
"Remind me to buy you a lot of books," she said, squeezing her son's hand with mock seriousness. "But seriously, I wanted to thank you for what you did for me... Sorry, I don't even know your name; Dr. House only introduced you as 'kid.'"
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm so sorry about that," I said, embarrassed. "My name is PJ Duncan, Mrs. Palmero."
"Duncan?" the woman repeated, surprised, looking at her son. "Like Ted—" she began saying to him.
"MOM!" Luke immediately interrupted, extremely embarrassed, his eyes widening dramatically.
"Oh, sorry," she said, covering her mouth but clearly not regretful about what she was about to say. She smiled playfully, raising her eyebrows as she glanced between me and her son.
Just like in the previous days, Luke instantly avoided eye contact with me. This time, I could even see how he instinctively seemed to want to run away from where he was standing.
"Yes, Duncan like Teddy Duncan, my sister," I said, smiling along with the woman, who was obviously amused by her son's reaction to my words. "Who needs her lab partner, so you need to go back to school," I added, causing the boy to lower his head and nervously nod.
"Oh, he's definitely going back," the woman said seriously. "So don't worry about your sister's lab partner," she added, significantly winking at me.
I hoped Mrs. Palmero wouldn't get the wrong idea—Teddy wouldn't have a boyfriend until her thirties.
"That was all; I just wanted to thank you for what you did," she said, squeezing her son's hand again as she winced, pressing the lower part of her abdomen.
"I'm really glad you're okay, ma'am, but you really need to go home and lie down. You had surgery a couple of days ago, and you can't be sitting for too long," I said seriously. "Luke, did Dr. Bergin explain how to help your mom these days?"
"Yeah," the boy replied, checking on his mother and holding up his notebook.
"Good, I'm going to go now because you really need to get home. Do you need me to call a taxi for you?" I asked.
"Oh no, Luke can handle that," the woman said casually. "I feel like I'm repeating myself, but really, thank you so much."
"You're really welcome, ma'am," I said, smiling slightly, still a bit embarrassed.
"I hope we meet again someday," the woman said, smiling significantly as she squeezed her son's hand.
Yes, don't get any ideas—Teddy and Luke will only be friends.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, forcing a smile. "Luke," I added, bidding farewell to the boy, who still couldn't look me in the eye. Nodding to the woman one last time, I walked away from the small family, immediately feeling really good.
The day passed without much else happening. Recalling the surgery I had observed yesterday, I used all the practice materials available in the skills lab to try to recreate the entire procedure—at least what I could do without permanently damaging any of the test mannequins.
Back home, after my training with Case, I dragged Gabe out of the house to play catch. "Do any of the neighborhood kids know who's bothering Sheldon?" I asked after chatting about what had happened at his school and in his music classes.
"Someone's bothering Sheldon?" Gabe asked, surprised.
"Yeah, how quickly can you find out who?" I asked, throwing the ball.
"Depends, what's in it for me?" Gabe asked seriously.
"The feeling that you did something good for someone else?" I asked sarcastically. "It feels really good."
Gabe snorted and raised an eyebrow.
"You little— A new comic," I said, shaking my head slightly, amused.
"Three comics and a new game for my GameBoy," Gabe quickly counter-offered.
"Deal," I said immediately. It wasn't really that expensive.
"Wha— usually in the movies, this lasts longer," Gabe said, strangely disappointed.
"Well, usually in the movies, the other party's counter-offer asks for a lot more, and it escalates until they reach a middle ground," I said, amused as I watched my brother's expression turn even more disappointed.
"Ten comics and five games," Gabe quickly said.
"Too late," I teased the boy, throwing the ball again.
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.
A slightly shorter chapter, since school is back in session, woo Yeah! (I need help).
Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:
RandomPasserby96
11332223
keyakedo
And once again the top changes.
With that said,
I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.
Thank you for reading! :D
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