one time, he and Eva had had a 'thing' going for them, then they'd both become exceptionally busy with their careers and their passionate meetings—usually in the hospital, and on hospital time—had gradually petered out from necessity, although when they saw each other they promised to get together. It hadn't happened recently.
Eva was pretty, beautiful even, with dark curly hair and pale eyes and skin, somehow exotic. They were two of a kind—they took what they wanted from each other, no strings attached, no expectations. At the moment she was concentrating on her career as a urologist, breaking into what had been largely a man's world.
'Clay! Great to see you,' Eva called, hurrying up to him as he waited for an elevator. 'Let's get together some time. How is it that we go for weeks without seeing each other?'
'We're workaholics. Great to see you,' Clay responded, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. At this time of the morning they were just a few minutes ahead of the main rush of nursing staff coming in to do a day shift. 'We should rectify that situation as soon as possible, Eva. How about if we make it today? May I call you in your office at about three?' Eva had been an intern when he'd been a senior resident.
'Sure.' Eva smiled up at him, pleasantly surprised, and he looked down at her, appreciating her full, very feminine lips. 'I'll be there. And I'll be looking forward to it.'
There were other people in the elevator when it came, so they didn't speak further. Clay was very physically aware of her standing next to him, yet he gave no indication of it. Even in the anonymous garb of a green, shapeless scrub suit and a white lab coat on top, she looked alluring. Clay wondered why she wasn't married, then caught himself up short. Why wasn't he married, come to that? And he was five years older than Eva. Maybe he was sexist—making one rule foe a beautiful woman and another for himself. Well, they did have to think about the relentless ticking of the biological clock. But, on the other hand, men tended to die earlier, to get heart disease earlier, to get prostate problems, become impotent...
Hastily he shifted his thoughts away from that to appreciate Eva's rear as she left the elevator and walked away. Sighing, he forced his mind back to the contemplation of his first case on the operating list, a removal of a breast lump in a man. It wasn't commonly known, he thought, that men could get cancer of the breast tissue.
*
'We know he has cancer of the left breast,' Clay explained later to Sophie, his scrub nurse for the first case in the operating room, 'because I've done a fine-needle aspiration test—cytology. I did that in my office and sent it to the lab here.'
'That isn't very common, though, is it?' Sophie asked, handing him a sterile towel on which to dry his hands prior to gowning and gloving. Their patient, A1 Harris, sixty-three years old, was already anaesthetized on the operating table. Today their anaesthetist was Dr Claude Moreau. Rick Sommers was already there.
'No, not common,' Clay agreed, 'but not rare either. It's something that we always have to be aware of when a man notices a lump in his breast tissue. A man has ducts in his breast, just like a woman, but he doesn't have the globules that produce milk in the way that a woman does. He can get cancer of the ducts and it can spread to the lymph glands under the arm and to other parts of the body—something which it doesn't seem to have done so far in this case.'
'Will you take a biopsy of the underarm glands?' she asked.
'Yes, we will, just to be on the safe side,' he said. 'And I'll take out the entire mass in the breast and some of the surrounding tissue as well. He presented with a lump and some fixation of the breast tissue to the skin, so I was suspicious as soon as I saw it.'
When he was gowned and gloved, they proceeded to prep the patient's skin.
The remainder of the day went quickly and smoothly, busy yet without
Eva was pretty, beautiful even, with dark curly hair and pale eyes and skin, somehow exotic. They were two of a kind—they took what they wanted from each other, no strings attached, no expectations. At the moment she was concentrating on her career as a urologist, breaking into what had been largely a man's world.
'Clay! Great to see you,' Eva called, hurrying up to him as he waited for an elevator. 'Let's get together some time. How is it that we go for weeks without seeing each other?'
'We're workaholics. Great to see you,' Clay responded, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. At this time of the morning they were just a few minutes ahead of the main rush of nursing staff coming in to do a day shift. 'We should rectify that situation as soon as possible, Eva. How about if we make it today? May I call you in your office at about three?' Eva had been an intern when he'd been a senior resident.
'Sure.' Eva smiled up at him, pleasantly surprised, and he looked down at her, appreciating her full, very feminine lips. 'I'll be there. And I'll be looking forward to it.'
There were other people in the elevator when it came, so they didn't speak further. Clay was very physically aware of her standing next to him, yet he gave no indication of it. Even in the anonymous garb of a green, shapeless scrub suit and a white lab coat on top, she looked alluring. Clay wondered why she wasn't married, then caught himself up short. Why wasn't he married, come to that? And he was five years older than Eva. Maybe he was sexist—making one rule foe a beautiful woman and another for himself. Well, they did have to think about the relentless ticking of the biological clock. But, on the other hand, men tended to die earlier, to get heart disease earlier, to get prostate problems, become impotent...
Hastily he shifted his thoughts away from that to appreciate Eva's rear as she left the elevator and walked away. Sighing, he forced his mind back to the contemplation of his first case on the operating list, a removal of a breast lump in a man. It wasn't commonly known, he thought, that men could get cancer of the breast tissue.
*
'We know he has cancer of the left breast,' Clay explained later to Sophie, his scrub nurse for the first case in the operating room, 'because I've done a fine-needle aspiration test—cytology. I did that in my office and sent it to the lab here.'
'That isn't very common, though, is it?' Sophie asked, handing him a sterile towel on which to dry his hands prior to gowning and gloving. Their patient, A1 Harris, sixty-three years old, was already anaesthetized on the operating table. Today their anaesthetist was Dr Claude Moreau. Rick Sommers was already there.
'No, not common,' Clay agreed, 'but not rare either. It's something that we always have to be aware of when a man notices a lump in his breast tissue. A man has ducts in his breast, just like a woman, but he doesn't have the globules that produce milk in the way that a woman does. He can get cancer of the ducts and it can spread to the lymph glands under the arm and to other parts of the body—something which it doesn't seem to have done so far in this case.'
'Will you take a biopsy of the underarm glands?' she asked.
'Yes, we will, just to be on the safe side,' he said. 'And I'll take out the entire mass in the breast and some of the surrounding tissue as well. He presented with a lump and some fixation of the breast tissue to the skin, so I was suspicious as soon as I saw it.'
When he was gowned and gloved, they proceeded to prep the patient's skin.
The remainder of the day went quickly and smoothly, busy yet without
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