“I understand.”
“I won’t lie. This will be a tough one.”
“Then you need to explain it to them. Reassure them.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Ryan didn’t think getting run over by a sixteen-wheeler truck could have knocked the wind out of him more completely. He couldn’t and wouldn’t provide the care Lucy was pushing him toward.
“They’re scared. They need the reassurance that you can give them.”
“Lucy, I do surgery. Not feelings. That’s your department,” he said, his voice rising. “You do your job.”
She flinched but didn’t move. “I am doing my job by seeing that you do yours. I’ll translate. All you have to do is explain what’s going to happen. Parents need to know their doctor cares.”
He had cared. That was the problem. He knew the hurt it caused. He knew pain so great that if he let it out of the box it would groan, snarl and devour him.
“No. You handle it.” He turned to walk away.
She grabbed his arm. “Look, someone has to tell this family something right away. I’m not the doctor. I don’t have the medical knowledge. You’re an excellent surgeon, just let them know that. Give them some hope. That’s all you have to do.” They stared at each other for a long moment before she said quietly, “I’d hate to tell Mr. Matherson that you refused to co-operate on the coordinated care project.”
“The hell you will,” he bellowed, and shook his arm out of her grasp.
Lucy’s head jerked around toward the ER desk. His gaze followed. The staff behind the desk and in the hall had stopped in place to look at them with astonishment, curiosity and anticipation on their faces.
Great. If this got back to Matherson or, worse, Rodriguez...
He looked at Lucy. “Okay. But I do it my way,” he growled.
Lucy nodded. At least she didn’t smirk. If she had, he didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. He’d talk to the parents but he’d leave feelings out of it. He’d survived his father’s death and illness on his own and others could handle their problems. He offered his medical skills to his patients, performed surgery to the best of his ability but he couldn’t get involved outside his work in the OR.
They re-entered the room.
The family remained seated and he stood over them as he spoke. Lucy translated. “As I understand it, Dr. Matthews, your son’s neurologist, has explained that the child has experienced a grand mal seizure. The drugs that he has been taking are no longer working effectively. The seizures your son is having now will only get worse as time goes on. Your son—”
“Miguel,” Lucy offered.
That was just like Lucy to make it personal. Something he didn’t want. Ryan glared at her then turned back to the mother. “Miguel’s going to need surgery to slow these down. At first Dr. Matthews thought the surgery might need to be done right away. I believe that Miguel needs to stay in the hospital and be monitored for a few days. But he will need surgery. Even after that the seizures will continue, but they shouldn’t be as severe.”
The mother was openly crying by the time he’d finished. All he wanted was to get out of there. Nothing he could say or do would make it better for them. He wasn’t going to try. No matter how hard Lucy pushed.
He looked at her. “I need to make some arrangements and a couple of calls. I’ll have to see about setting up a surgery time and date. Right now, I want him to remain sedated and rest. Dr. Matthews has already started the admission process.”
“I’ll see that they understand.” She mouthed, “Thank you.”
That wasn’t going to smooth over how he felt about being forced to talk to the parents. His stomach was one big mess of knots. He left without a backward glance.
Thirty minutes later and still seething from the earlier ordeal, Ryan stalked to the family counselors’ office. For a person who couldn’t have told anyone where it was at the beginning of the week, he was actually visiting it for the third time. Lucy had made him go through the wringer and he intended to make it clear he would not allow it to happen again.
It was late enough that the floor was quiet and the lights had been turned down in the hallway. A light glowed beneath the office door. He rapped on the door with enough force that the nurse at the end of the hall looked up from where she was charting.
There was movement in the room and the door remained closed. Lucy must be in there. He’d raised his hand to knock again when the door opened.
“Yes?” She met his gaze. “Is something wrong?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. I will not be blackmailed.”
Both their heads tuned toward the shushing sound coming from down the hall. The nurse had her finger held across her lips.
“Let’s go into your office.” He gave her a nudge. Her uncertain look brought his anger down a notch. He hadn’t intended to scare her. “Please, Lucy.”
She backed into the room but didn’t meet his eyes. He entered and closed the door, and Lucy moved as far back in the room as the tiny space would allow. She didn’t sit, so neither did he.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just what was that all about down there in the ER? Why the big push to get me to be so concerned about the family’s feelings? You went too far tonight, Lucy.” He stepped a pace closer as he spoke.
She stood her ground. “Because the least they deserved was to have their doctor’s, and especially their surgeon’s, concern. They want to hear the good and the bad from you. They want to feel they can trust you with their loved one’s life. To do that they have to know you. They have to have a relationship with you, even if it is only a surface one. They’re putting the most precious thing in their lives into your hands and that takes real courage.
“Do you have any idea what it is like to hand your child over to someone? To trust them to give them the care and attention that you would?”
Her large, dramatic eyes glistened. Was she going to cry?
“Are you so insensitive that you can’t have any compassion for the parents of your patients? It’s a good thing you’re not a thoracic surgeon because I don’t think you’d even recognize a heart if you saw one.”
Ryan recoiled as if he’d been slapped. He’d come here with the intention of getting an apology and instead he was getting a dressing down. Where was all this venom coming from?
She turned to her desk, putting her back to him. “I’ve had enough for today. I’m headed home. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
“No, we can’t.” He used his OR hand-me-an-instrument voice. “We’re going to talk about it now. I don’t think that entire tirade was to do with me or what happened in the ER tonight.”
She pulled out the desk drawer and brought out her purse. “Look, Ryan, I’m too tired to hash this out tonight. I’d just like to go home.”
“We’re not going anywhere until you explain to me—”
“You can’t keep me here.”
“I can.” He moved so that he leaned against the door. “But I’d prefer not to.” Her luminous eyes pleaded with him and his heart caught. The part he’d thought had died with his father. Lucy was pulling him, kicking and screaming, back to life.
“Something is wrong. Don’t tell me you’re just upset about the boy because I won’t buy it. Even with your tender heart, you wouldn’t