Just a Simple Procedure
Roy looked at his watch yet again.
Johnny didn't seem to notice. "So, you're stopping by tomorrow, right?"
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"And you'll bring it?" Gage grimaced and squirmed around in the bed, trying to get comfortable.
Roy rolled his eyes. "I'll bring it." He looked at his watch again, stretching his arm out theatrically in hopes he'd catch the other man's attention. "Visiting hours are almost over. I should be getting home."
Johnny didn't answer. He was too busy fiddling with the remote control. A smile lit his face when a picture finally appeared on the screen. "Hey, the Dodgers are on. Why don't you stick around and watch the rest of the game with me?"
Roy sighed. "Visiting hours are up in 10 minutes. The nurse will be in to throw me out anyway. Besides, I have a date with Joanne."
That got Johnny's attention. "You have a date with your wife?"
"There's a romantic movie on TV tonight. I promised I'd watch it with her. I'm already going to miss the beginning as it is."
"You sure you couldn't just stick around for an inning or two?
"You're not nervous about this, are you?"
"Of course I'm not." The indignation was obvious on his face and in his voice. "I just don't feel like being alone. They expect you to go to sleep at nine o' clock around here. That hasn't been my bedtime since I was eight years old."
"They want you to get a good night's rest before surgery." Roy looked at his partner's face, which displayed petulance, pleading--and fear. He made up his mind.
"Let me go call Joanne. I'll be right back."
Johnny beamed. He put his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs under the covers. "Hey, would you pick me up a couple of magazines in the gift shop while you're down there?" he called, just as Roy's hand hit the door handle.
If I kill him now, not only can I go home, I won't have to come back tomorrow. "Sure," he said, and exited quickly, before Gage thought of anything else.
He dialed a pay phone in the lobby, hoping she'd take the news okay. "Hi honey, it's me."
"Roy, where are you? The movie starts in a few minutes."
"I know. I'm still at Rampart."
"There's nothing wrong, is there?"
"Sort of. He's scared to death."
"That's ridiculous. It's a simple procedure."
"You know that, and I know that, but this is Johnny we're talking about. Ridiculous is sort of his specialty."
"He's really scared?" she asked, still incredulous.
"Petrified. I thought I'd stay and watch the rest of the Dodgers game with him, if you don't mind."
She sighed. "No, of course I don't mind." There was silence on the line for a few seconds. "Roy?"
"Yeah?"
"You and the other guys didn't give him a hard time about this last shift, did you?"
Roy gave a small, exasperated sigh of his own. "Joanne, you do remember where I work, right? Of course we gave him a hard time. We've been razzing him about it since he knew he was going to have it done."
"Well, no wonder he's scared. With friends like you, who needs enemies?"
"Oh, and you don't remember how he was on my case for days when I had mine? I didn't freak out about it."
"No? I seem to remember somebody snuggling up awfully close to me the night before. You just freak out like you do everything else--calmly and carefully. And Johnny's freaking out the way he does everything else--wholeheartedly."
"Okay, okay. I just need one clarification, please."
"What's that?"
"I really don't do... everything... calmly and carefully, do I?"
She giggled. "No, not everything--Tiger. Wish you were here."
Roy looked around to make sure no one was watching, then ducked his head down to his chest and covered the mouthpiece with his hand before answering. "Me, too."
"Give Johnny my love, and don't be too late, all right?"
"All right. Love you."
"Love you, too. Bye."
He had one foot on the elevator when he remembered the magazines. He slipped inside the gift shop just as they were getting ready to close the doors, grabbed the first three magazines he saw that didn't look like women's titles, and paid the cashier. By the time he got back to the elevator, visiting hours had ended, and he missed the first available car thanks to the crush of people exiting on the main floor.
By the time he got back to Johnny's floor, he wished he'd just told his partner to grow up and gone on home to Joanne. Truth be told, he didn't mind missing the movie. Watching that tearjerker mushy stuff she liked gave him the urge to giggle, but his reward for sitting through it with her was always worth the bother.
He pushed the door open, and caught a glimpse of Johnny chewing on his fingernails. Gage jerked his hand away from his face when he saw Roy.
"Dodgers just scored on a double to left center. They're up by two."
"Great." The response was distinctly lacking in enthusiasm. He dropped the magazines on Johnny's chest, with a little more force than necessary.
Gage glanced at the titles, making a face. "They didn't have anything better than this?"
"They don't carry Playboy in the gift shop."
Gage opened his mouth again, but shut it when he saw the look on Roy's face.
"By the way, Joanne says hi." Roy flopped down into a chair.
Gage looked up from making faces at the magazines, and frowned at Roy. "I'm going under the knife tomorrow, and all she said was 'hi'?"
"Actually, she said to give you her love. Would you like a big smooch with that?" He put his hands on the armrests of the chair as if to get up.
Johnny put up both hands in surrender. " 'Hi' is fine."
They watched the game in silence until an attractive redhead strode briskly into the room.
"Listen up, you two. Just because you're hot shot paramedics doesn't mean you can break all the rules. Visiting hours are over." Her smile and pleasant tone softened the reprimand.
"Hi Mary," Roy said, rising from the chair. He glanced over at the bed, where Gage had frozen, eyes darting between nurse and partner. He thought fast. "I--uh, my set at home is on the blink, and Johnny offered to let me stay and catch the game."
"I see," she said, and she had. She'd seen the flash of panic on Johnny's face when she came in. She knew Gage well enough from her occasional overtime shifts in the emergency room, not to mention his frequent stays as a patient, to know that he was scared. Knew him well enough to know he'd never admit it to her, either. She walked over to the bed, and fussed over him for awhile, making a show of fluffing the pillows and adjusting the bed. He ate it up.
"You want me to ask the doctor for something to help you sleep?"
"Why would I need that? I mean, it's just a tonsillectomy. Five year olds have them every day. It's no big deal." He struck a pose of exaggerated nonchalance.
"That's right," she said soothingly, "so when I come back in an hour to check on you, I expect you to be asleep." She turned to Roy, talking as she strode quickly for the door. " And I expect you to be gone, even if there are extra innings."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling at her.
The door thumped shut, and Johnny blew a puff of air out in relief. Roy walked over to the bed, took the remote, and turned off the set."
"Hey! What are you doin'? Garvey's up."
"Seaver has shut him down all night, anyway."
"You leaving?" Gage's voice rose an octave on the second word.
"No. Not until you tell me what you're so freaked out about."
"Who's freaked out? Man, a guy wants a little company to watch the game, and he gets accused of freaking out." He crossed his arms and selected one of his vast repertoire of mad faces.
"It's just you and me here. No girls to protect your manly imagine in front of, no Chet lurking in the corner to pounce at the first sign of weakness. Spill it."
"All right. Okay." He paused dramatically, making sure his audience was paying him the heed his forthcoming announcement deserved. "Do you know all the possible complications from general anesthesia alone? I mean, you can die just from them putting you to sleep--that's before they ever get a scalpel near you."
"You gotta be kidding," Roy started, but his partner wasn't done yet.
"Then there are all the post-op complications, regardless of the type of surgery. Infections, bleeding."
"Tell me you're kidding."
"Do you know how many instances there have been in the past five years of some foreign object being left behind in a surgical incision?"
"He's not kidding," Roy said aloud to himself. Then he realized that Gage had finally stopped talking. "You're not kidding, are you? Explain to me how they could possibly leave something behind in a tonsillectomy incision."
"That's not the point. You're missing the point. The point is there's a list of things as long as your arm that can go wrong with the simplest surgery. And a tonsillectomy, Roy, is not the simplest of surgeries."
"No? Name something simpler."
Gage thought for a second, then waved the question aside. "That's not the point, either."
"What is the point?"
"Have you been listening to me?"
"Endlessly--for about six years, now." He saw the remark register with Johnny, and instantly regretted it. If he got Johnny riled up now, he'd never get him calmed down in an hour. He kept talking, hoping to distract him before he had a chance to get mad. "Look, Johnny, who would know more about this than me, right? I've had it done twice. There's nothing to it. Your throat's a little sore for a day or two, then it's over."
"That's you, Roy. You've always had good luck. Me, I'm another story. If something can go wrong, it will. I'm the one who bought one lousy dinner and got billed $1,600. I'm the one whose paycheck got messed up. These things never happen to you."
"Have you talked to Dr. Abbott about this?"
Johnny waved a hand in the air. "What would be the point of that? You know he's just going to say I'm worried over nothing, that it's a simple procedure, and that everything will be okay."
"Did you ever stop to consider that maybe he'd say that because it's true?"
"No, Roy, he says it to keep the patient calm. Just like we do. Guy's having a massive MI, and what do we tell him? 'Everything's gonna be just fine, sir. We're gonna take good care of you.' "
Roy had to admit Johnny had a point, there. He tried another tack. "You've had surgery before, and you've never been nervous about it. Why now, all of a sudden?"
Gage flashed a pained look, followed by the sheepish little boy look he always got before he admitted something he'd rather not. "Well, I... I never had time to think about it before. It was always so fast that I was knocked out and on the table before I knew what was going on. I've known this was coming for a couple of weeks, so I had time to read up on it."
The light dawned for Roy. "You've been reading."
"Yeah, I went over to the university medical library on my day off, and did some research."
"There's your problem."
"Why is that a problem? If they're gonna cut something off me, I want to know as much as I can about it."
"They don't write up the tens of thousands of procedures that went right, they only write up the ones that went spectacularly wrong, or had something odd about them. The only thing odd in the procedure you're having tomorrow is you."
"My point exactly!" Johnny whacked his hand down on the mattress for emphasis. "If anyone is going to have something go wildly wrong, it's going to be me!"
"Johnny, I will issue you my personal guarantee that nothing will go wrong. They're going to snip your tonsils out, you're going to wake up with a sore throat, eat lots of jello and ice cream, and go home. You'll be back at work next shift."
"How can you guarantee that?"
"I just can. I'm your partner, I'm your friend, and I say nothing's going to go wrong. It's just a ... a feeling I have." Roy figured if logic wasn't calming him down, maybe a conveniently manufactured hunch would.
"Yeah? Really?"
Ah, I'm onto something, here. "Absolutely. I have a very good feeling about this surgery. Always have--you know all that stuff the guys said last shift--we were just kidding around."
"Well, I know that..." Johnny said, still sounding doubtful, and shooting a sidelong glance that begged for more reassurance.
"We know you did... we only did it because we know how well you can take a joke."
"Yeah, I am a pretty good sport, aren't I?" Gage grinned just a little.
"Pretty good? You're a damn good sport!" I am so glad Chet isn't hearing this....
"And you're going to go on being a damn good sport, just one who's minus a couple of tonsils."
"Yeah!" The full-wattage Gage grin appeared.
Roy heaved an inward sigh. Finally. Can I go home now?
"So, you ready to get some shuteye, so you'll be ready to go tomorrow?" I feel like a cheerleader. Anybody seen my pompoms?
"I think I can sleep now, yeah."
"Good deal. I'll just be going, then, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay." Gage put the magazines on the bedside table and pulled the covers up to his chin. "You won't forget to bring it, right?"
"I won't forget." Roy backed slowly toward the door. "You get a good night's rest now, you hear?" Careful...careful...don't spook him...almost there....
"I will."
He had just started to pull on the door handle when Gage said, "Hey, Roy?"
Now what?! He made a face at the door, and had to make a conscious effort not to bang his forehead against it in frustration. He schooled his features, and turned to give his partner a smile. "Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Well, partner, you always did know how to make me feel about two inches tall. "You're welcome."
>>>>>>>>>>>
Roy strode in the emergency exit, mostly out of habit, and because he thought maybe he'd run into Brackett or Early, or somebody who might know how the surgery went. He whistled nothing in particular, a remnant of the good mood Joanne had put him in last night. He had made it home in time for the last half-hour of the sappy movie, and had been suitably rewarded immediately after.
He looked around on his way to the elevator, but didn't see anyone likely to have any word on Johnny. He had just stepped into the car when he heard someone call, "Hold the elevator." He stuck an arm out to catch the doors, and was pleased to see Dixie McCall join him. She leaned against the wall, punched Johnny's floor, and folded her arms across her chest. "Here to see the luckiest guy on the planet?"
"Yeah, a command appearance." He held up the white bag he was carrying. "Extra large, extra thick double chocolate malted." He furrowed his brow when Dixie's words sank in. "Lucky?"
"Very lucky."
Roy felt his heart make a valiant attempt to leap out of his chest. "Is he okay?" Wildly improbable scenarios lined up for attention in his mind.
"Fine. I peeked in on him in recovery earlier. Thought I'd go up and say hi now that he's awake."
"What happened?"
"You won't believe it, and I really shouldn't tell you...." She gave him a sidelong glance.
"Dix, come on."
She smiled at the note of desperation in his voice. "I guess it's all right. But you have to promise never to tell Johnny. I've already issued that order--under pain of death--to our staff. If he ever found out--well, as often as he's a customer here, he'd never be able to close his eyes again."
"I promise. Tell me."
The doors opened on the fourth floor. It was well before morning visiting hours and Dixie pulled Roy into the deserted public lounge area.
"He came very close to having a procedure he wasn't scheduled for. This close." She held up thumb and forefinger, a quarter inch apart.
"What procedure?"
She shook her head. "Trust me. You don't want to know."
Yes, I do, he thought, but said, "How did it happen?"
"Somebody transposed the room number on a chart for a man scheduled for surgery ten minutes before Johnny. Orderly was sent to Johnny's room instead."
"Didn't he check the I.D. bracelet?"
"Sure did. Other guy's name was John Cage."
"I don't believe it."
"Told you."
"How did they catch it?"
"They wouldn't have, if Mary hadn't stayed for a double shift when the new floor nurse called in sick. She knew Johnny was scheduled for OR 2, and saw him being pushed into three, and went to investigate. Of course, the surgeon should have realized he had the wrong man on the table, but you never know. He could have sliced first, asked questions later."
Roy shook his head. Dixie nodded hers.
They walked down the hall to Johnny's room, and Dixie peeked in to see if the lucky man was awake. He lit up when he saw her, and lifted a hand in greeting. He smiled even wider when he saw Roy come in behind her. He held out both hands, and Roy handed him the sack. Gage pulled out the jumbo malt, took off the lid, and inspected the contents of the cup, then held up a hand in the okay sign. He took a big gulp while the lid was off, closing his eyes as the cold, smooth stuff slid over his raw throat. He set the cup aside, and reached for the pad of paper next to him on the bed.
He wrote briefly, then held up the tablet.
YOU WERE RIGHT. PIECE OF CAKE.
"Uh, yeah. Well, told you so." Roy shifted his weight from foot to foot, and had a hard time looking Johnny in the eye.
Dixie jumped in, noticing Roy's discomfort. "Now don't tell me you were worried, Johnny?"
The patient raised his eyebrows, pointed at himself, and mouthed the word "Me?"
"Good. You should know by now that my favorite paramedics get the red carpet treatment around here."
Roy was fairly dancing, so pronounced was his squirming under the weight of his lie of omission. He had to get out of there, fast. "Look, Johnny, is there anything else you need? If not, I really should be going...."
Johnny shook his head, picked up his malt cup and patted it, smiling.
"All right, then, I'll catch you later."
He stopped Dixie with a hand on her arm when they were halfway to the elevator.
"Dix, I gotta ask. What procedure did Johnny almost have?"
Dixie regarded him solemnly, as if weighing whether or not he could handle the truth. She looked one way, then the other down the hall, and when convinced the coast was clear, motioned Roy to move closer. She cupped a hand by her mouth, and whispered directly into his ear.
His eyes opened wide, and he felt his face go three shades paler. "You're kidding?"
"Scout's honor," she said, raising her right hand.
"Dix?"
"Yeah?"
"If my tonsils grow back again, I'm keeping 'em."
Thanks to CJ (who can take her pick as to what for), and to Dawn Valley for answering more questions than one little tonsillectomy should ever generate...
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