whole transplant team. Aaron Levi, Bill Archer. Even Jeremiah Parr."
"Why the hospital president?"
"Parr wants our statistics to look good. And all the research shows that outpatients are more likely to survive a transplant."
"Without a transplant, Josh O"Day's not going to survive at all."
"I know it's a tragedy. But that's life."
She lay very still, stunned by his matter-of-fact tone.
He reached out to touch her hand. She pulled away.
"You could change their minds," she said. "You could talk them into---'
"It's too late. The team's decided."
"What/s this team, anyway? God?"
There was a long silence. Quietly, Mark said: "Be careful what you say, Abby."
"You mean about the holy team?"
"The other night, at Archer's, we all meant what we said. In fact, Archer told me later that you're the best fellowship material he's seen in three years. But Archer's careful about which people he recruits, and I don't blame him. We need people who'll work with us. Not against us."
"Even if I don't agree with the rest of you?"
"It's part of being on a team, Abby. We all have our points of view. But we make the decisions together. And we stick by them." He reached out again to touch her hand. This time she didn't pull away. Neither did she return his squeeze. "Come on, Abby," he said softly. "There are residents out there who'd kill for a transplant fellowship at Bayside. Here you're practically handed one on a platter. It is what you want, isn't it?"
"Of course it's what I want. It scares me how much I want it. The crazy thing is, I never knew I did, not until Archer raised the possibility..." She took a deep breath, released it in a long sigh. "I hate the way I keep wanting more. Always wanting more. There's something that keeps pulling me and pulling me. First it was getting into college, then med school. Then a surgery residency. And now, it's this fellowship. It's moved so far from where I started. When I just wanted to be a doctor..."
"It's not enough any more. Is it?"
"No. I wish it was. But it isn't."
"Then don't blow it, Abby. Please. For both our sakes."
"You make it sound as if you're the one with everything to lose."
"I'm the one who suggested your name. I told them you're the best choice they could make." He looked at her. "I still think so."
For a moment they lay without talking, only their hands in contact. Then he reached over and caressed her hip. Not a real embrace, but an attempt at one.
It was enough. She let him take her into his arms.
The simultaneous squeal of half a dozen pocket pagers was followed by the curt announcement over the hospital speaker system: Code Blue, MICU. Code Blue, MICU.
Abby joined the other surgical residents in a dash for the stairway. By the time she'd jogged into the MICU, a crowd of medical personnel was already thronging the area. A glance told her there were more than enough people here to deal with a Code Blue. Most of the residents were starting to drift out of the room. Abby, too, would have left.
Had she not seen that the code was in Bed 4. Joshua O"Day's cubicle.
She pushed into the knot of white coats and scrub suits. At their centre lay Joshua O"Day, his frail body fully exposed to the glare of overhead lights. Hannah Love was administering chest compressions, her blonde hair whipping forward with every thrust. Another nurse was frantically rummaging through the crash cart drawers, pulling out drug vials and syringes and passing them to the medical residents. Abby glanced up at the cardiac monitor screen.
Ventricular fibrillation. The pattern of a dying heart.
"Seven and a half ET tube!" a voice yelled.
Only then did Abby notice Vivian Chao crouched behind Joshua's head. Vivian already had the laryngoscope ready.
The crash cart nurse ripped the plastic cover off an ET tube and passed it to Vivian.
"Keep bagging him!"Vivian ordered.
The respiratory tech, holding an anaesthesia mask to Josh's face, continued squeezing the balloon-like reservoir a few times,
"Why the hospital president?"
"Parr wants our statistics to look good. And all the research shows that outpatients are more likely to survive a transplant."
"Without a transplant, Josh O"Day's not going to survive at all."
"I know it's a tragedy. But that's life."
She lay very still, stunned by his matter-of-fact tone.
He reached out to touch her hand. She pulled away.
"You could change their minds," she said. "You could talk them into---'
"It's too late. The team's decided."
"What/s this team, anyway? God?"
There was a long silence. Quietly, Mark said: "Be careful what you say, Abby."
"You mean about the holy team?"
"The other night, at Archer's, we all meant what we said. In fact, Archer told me later that you're the best fellowship material he's seen in three years. But Archer's careful about which people he recruits, and I don't blame him. We need people who'll work with us. Not against us."
"Even if I don't agree with the rest of you?"
"It's part of being on a team, Abby. We all have our points of view. But we make the decisions together. And we stick by them." He reached out again to touch her hand. This time she didn't pull away. Neither did she return his squeeze. "Come on, Abby," he said softly. "There are residents out there who'd kill for a transplant fellowship at Bayside. Here you're practically handed one on a platter. It is what you want, isn't it?"
"Of course it's what I want. It scares me how much I want it. The crazy thing is, I never knew I did, not until Archer raised the possibility..." She took a deep breath, released it in a long sigh. "I hate the way I keep wanting more. Always wanting more. There's something that keeps pulling me and pulling me. First it was getting into college, then med school. Then a surgery residency. And now, it's this fellowship. It's moved so far from where I started. When I just wanted to be a doctor..."
"It's not enough any more. Is it?"
"No. I wish it was. But it isn't."
"Then don't blow it, Abby. Please. For both our sakes."
"You make it sound as if you're the one with everything to lose."
"I'm the one who suggested your name. I told them you're the best choice they could make." He looked at her. "I still think so."
For a moment they lay without talking, only their hands in contact. Then he reached over and caressed her hip. Not a real embrace, but an attempt at one.
It was enough. She let him take her into his arms.
The simultaneous squeal of half a dozen pocket pagers was followed by the curt announcement over the hospital speaker system: Code Blue, MICU. Code Blue, MICU.
Abby joined the other surgical residents in a dash for the stairway. By the time she'd jogged into the MICU, a crowd of medical personnel was already thronging the area. A glance told her there were more than enough people here to deal with a Code Blue. Most of the residents were starting to drift out of the room. Abby, too, would have left.
Had she not seen that the code was in Bed 4. Joshua O"Day's cubicle.
She pushed into the knot of white coats and scrub suits. At their centre lay Joshua O"Day, his frail body fully exposed to the glare of overhead lights. Hannah Love was administering chest compressions, her blonde hair whipping forward with every thrust. Another nurse was frantically rummaging through the crash cart drawers, pulling out drug vials and syringes and passing them to the medical residents. Abby glanced up at the cardiac monitor screen.
Ventricular fibrillation. The pattern of a dying heart.
"Seven and a half ET tube!" a voice yelled.
Only then did Abby notice Vivian Chao crouched behind Joshua's head. Vivian already had the laryngoscope ready.
The crash cart nurse ripped the plastic cover off an ET tube and passed it to Vivian.
"Keep bagging him!"Vivian ordered.
The respiratory tech, holding an anaesthesia mask to Josh's face, continued squeezing the balloon-like reservoir a few times,
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