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Samira Mohan, first year resident just starting her first rotation at PTMC, is certain that Trauma 1 has a temperature regulation problem.
The first time she ever steps foot inside, she’s hit in the face by a blast of air so frigid it feels like being dunked into an ice bath. It triggers her cold shock response; she gasps so loudly that Dr. Robby sends her a sharp look from over the little girl’s unconscious body.
“Let me know if you need to step out,” he says patronisingly. “This might get ugly.”
Samira looks down at the goosebumps on her arms. A little self-inflicted GSW to the right coronary artery didn’t do that, the Antarctic chill radiating from the corner of the room did. She’s a little insulted that he’d assume otherwise.
Still, no one else is complaining, so she clenches her jaw and tries to focus on the job at hand.
*
Emergency departments are always chilly. Samira knows this. She also knows, after a brief conversation with Dana who peers at her over her glasses like Samira is the crazy one, that she is the only one in the entire department who has to brace herself for possible hypothermia every time she enters Trauma 1.
She’s assisting Dr. Robby on a case one day when it gets so bad that she starts to shiver uncontrollably.
“Looks good, she’s stable,” Dr. Robby is saying. “I think we can hand her off to the ICU. Dr. Mohan, are you okay?”
“Fine,” Samira says, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
“You missed the TDH,” says a frustrated male voice from behind her. “Robby, you gotta do a CT, man.”
Samira turns in surprise, forgetting for a moment that she’s so cold that her fingertips are growing numb. She hadn’t heard anyone else come in; she’d thought that only she, Dr. Robby, and Princess were in the room.
“Right-sided TDH,” the doctor continues. He has his arms folded tight over his chest, glaring at Dr. Robby like he’s trying to peer into his skull. “C’mon, Mike.”
Dr. Robby ignores him.
Looking between them in bewilderment, Samira wracks her brain. Right-sided TDH? She’d read a case report in med school about the hernia, a rare outcome that can account for a diaphragmatic rupture.
It’s a long shot. There’s no way the doctor could know without being able to see into the patient’s body, and even then, he’d have to know exactly what he’s looking for. There’s a reason the morbidity rates for the condition are so high.
The doctor is still muttering under his breath. He’s pushed off the wall now, circling them. Impossibly, the room seems to grow colder. Samira swears she can see her breath.
“Fuckin’ stubborn jackass,” the doctor says, voice growing louder. He braces his arms on the other side of the gurney, hot gaze boring holes into the side of Dr. Robby’s face. One grey curl falls over his forehead; he slaps it away like it’s something offensive. “ORDER. A DAMN. CT!” he practically yells in Dr. Robby’s face.
Samira’s jaw drops. Dr. Robby is ignoring him so hard that it has to be personal. Right?
Except… Princess hasn’t even looked up.
Cold air hits the back of Samira’s neck. She’s losing her mind, she decides, when the angry doctor flails his hands over his head and Robby’s eyes don’t even flicker. It’s none of her business. It’s none of her business. It’s none of her–
“Maybe we should do the CT,” Samira says. Her voice comes out embarrassingly small, like the squeak of a terrified mouse.
The grey-haired doctor jerks back visibly. His head whips towards her and he looks at her for the first time, eyes wide with shock. She stares back, heart racing. He’s looking at her like he’s just witnessed a dog get up on its hind legs and start assembling itself a breakfast sandwich. Which, actually, is a little insulting.
Samira decides that she doesn’t like this guy at all.
Dr. Robby raises his eyebrows at her. “Present your reasoning, Samira,” he says doubtfully. “But make it quick. You’ve seen the board.”
“High-energy blunt trauma to the right side of the body,” Samira stammers. “He’s right. There could be a diaphragmatic rupture and the patient would still present as hemodynamically stable.”
“Who’s right?” Dr. Robby looks confused; the mysterious doctor is staring like she’s just broken into a pitch perfect rendition of a tap-dancing scene from Singing in the Rain.
Hello?! Samira wants to shout at him. You were the one who suggested it?
It takes another minute to convince Dr Robby, but when he reluctantly agrees to the CT, the grey-haired doctor heaves a massive sigh of relief. His gaze doesn’t leave Samira the entire time. Princess makes the call, Dr. Robby leaves to oversee Dr. Langdon’s emergency cricothyroidotomy in the next room, and Samira is left alone to stare back at him.
“Why were you so sure?” she asks. The way he’s looking at her is starting to grow unnerving. “Was there something we missed?”
“Samira,” he says, gaze still fierce and locked on her. Her name sits on his tongue like he’s savouring it. “Good name. God, I’ve been here too long. I’m imagining things. There’s no way.”
It’s frustrating, the way he seems to be carrying on his own conversation. Samira presses. “How did you know about the TDH?”
“The universe is fucking with me,” the doctor says, rubbing a hand over his face, gaze finally breaking away. “Chained here for eternity, and the damn powers that be have to give me hope.”
“I don’t understand.”
She takes a step to follow him, to push. There’s something weird going on. Maybe he’s having a psychotic break; maybe she should call security.
Her hip bumps the gurney. When she looks back up, he’s disappeared.
“Oh,” Samira says, to an empty room.