Silver Fester
Marcus"I'm Dr. Bernard, your anesthesiologist," he said. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Thank you, you too," she said with some hesitation. "So, how does all this work? The anesthesia, I mean."
"In lay terms, anesthesia keeps your body and mind asleep so you won't have any recollection of your surgery. I will closely monitor your vitals and adjust the amount of anesthesia going into your body, if it's needed, and prevent you from waking up or moving until the procedure is entirely finished," he said. In a mumble, he added, "which would be traumatizing, probably." Patients usually didn't speak to him. He placed a syringe in her IV and injected its contents. "Antianxiety drug. Dr. Chelson will be here in a moment." She nodded and her eyes closed.
"Cool... tell Dr. Chelson I think I'm ready..." She stopped, smiled, and gazed at the curtains. Dr. Bernard checked her IV stand, adjusted the amount of fluid going into her body, shuffled out, and let a nurse know he was finished. She--his patient--would not remember him. If he saw her in the clinic again, or outside of work, or even deliberately met with her, she would not recognize his face.
Chelson walked past him and nodded with a quick smile. Dr. Bernard eyed him and his face felt red. Chelson, Chelson, Chelson--everything was always about that arrogant little hacksaw. Oh, how he'd like to see how that "young and brilliant plastic surgeon" would fare without him. And yet here he was, the anesthesiologist, quietly playing second fiddle to a babyfaced blondie.
Nurses wheeled the now-asleep patient out of her cubicle and into the OR. Chelson grinned and patted Bernard's sloped shoulder. Bernard flinched.
"Busy day, huh?" he said. Bernard forced a smile.
"Seems you'll be handling a lot of silicone today," he said. Chelson laughed and slapped his stooped back, making Bernard stiffen.
"You always crack me up, Bernie. Hey, promise she won't wake up, will you?" Chelson said, and walked away.
"Of course I will, Dr. Chelson," Bernard said under his breath, "of course."
Chelson left his assistant to dress his patient's surgical wounds. Once they were finished, Bernard and the nurses took her to the recovery room. He left Devon, the new anesthesiologist nurse, in charge.
"Good job today," he said and she nodded with a smile. He gestured to the patient with his head. "She hardly gave any trouble during that op, so I'm sure she'll be fine. If something seems abnormal, I'm always around."
"Thank you, doctor," Devon said. He checked up on the other patients who were still coming out of it and released those who were there for outpatient procedures. Once he was finished, he made his way to the pharmaceutical storage room. He glanced around before unlocking it, and once inside, locked the door behind him. Inside one of the locked cabinets were glass vials with clear liquid inside them. Ketamine. He took most of them, rearranged the shelf, and took a couple ibuprofen pills from another cabinet.
He left the storage room and walked briskly down the hallway. As he turned the corner, Chelson bumped into him. Bernard gasped and his hand flew up to his chest.
"Whoops, sorry, Bernie!" he said and grasped Bernard's shoulders. "You alright? Looks like I gave you a shock!" Bernard stuffed his hand into his pocket with the ketamine.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, and backed away. "Well, good night." He tried to walk past, but Bernard grabbed his shoulder again.
"Say, wait a second"--Bernard went white--"Me and some of the other staff are gonna go out for drinks. Wanna come?" Bernard shook his head.
"I should really get home," he said.
"Oh come on, Bernie! We've worked together a couple years now and hardly know each other. Let's go. C'mon. Please?" Chelson said with a broad grin. Bernard sighed, glanced down, closed his eyes, and nodded.
"I could use a drink," he said. Chelson laughed and led him outside, clutching his shoulder all the way. Bernard's heart beat faster and faster all the way to his car. Chelson told him which bar to go to, and as soon as he got into his own, Bernard shoved the vials into his glove compartment. As Chelson drove away, he slumped into his seat and wiped sweat from his forehead.
