CASE FILE 06
1162 Words
CASE FILE 06
Silvia’s POV
The elevator doors closed with a soft chime, trapping me inside a metal box with Dr. Mavis Xavier Quill and three equally terrified interns.
No one spoke.
Not because we had nothing to say.
Because Dr. Quill looked like a man who could diagnose noise.
I fixed my eyes on the glowing elevator numbers as if they were delivering me to safety.
Floor three.
Floor four.
Floor—
The elevator jerked gently and stopped.
The doors slid open.
A wave of white coats flooded toward us.
“Sorry, emergency consult!”
“Make space!”
Two nurses pushing a medication trolley squeezed in first, followed by three doctors and another nurse clutching patient files against her chest. The elevator suddenly became less of a transportation device and more of a human storage container.
Joanna was pressed against one wall.
Rule practically merged with the handrail.
Phil looked moments away from respiratory failure.
And I—
I was pushed one small step backward.
Straight into Dr. Quill.
My heart forgot how to beat properly.
His chest brushed my shoulder blades, solid and warm through the layers of our scrubs and lab coats. I froze instantly, terrified that moving would somehow make the situation worse.
The elevator doors closed again.
Someone’s pager beeped.
A nurse apologized for stepping on another doctor’s shoe.
Meanwhile, every functioning cell in my body was focused on the fact that Dr. Mavis Xavier Quill was standing directly behind me.
Too close.
Way too close.
I could smell his coffee.
Not coffee.
His coffee.
The coffee I thought I took.
Fantastic.
I stared harder at the elevator numbers.
Floor five.
Why was the elevator moving so slowly? Had Manhattan switched to manual labor overnight?
A deep voice sounded just above my head.
“Dr. Pears.”
I nearly levitated.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“Breathing is generally recommended.”
Oh God.
Had he noticed?
“I am breathing.”
“Your shoulders disagree.”
Heat climbed my neck.
I forced myself to inhale normally, which only made me more aware of him behind me.
One of the nurses glanced between us with the expression of someone who had just discovered hospital gossip.
I wanted the floor to open and medically evacuate me.
Dr. Quill remained perfectly composed.
Of course he did.
The elevator stopped again. Another doctor tried to enter, took one look at the crowd, and wisely retreated.
“Smart man,” Phil muttered.
Dr. Quill’s voice came from behind me again, low enough that only I could hear.
“You’re holding my coffee hostage.”
I turned my head slightly, forgetting how little space existed between us.
Big mistake.
His face was suddenly much closer than any supervisor’s face had a right to be. Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. Infuriating calm.
So calm.
So handsome.
Stop it.
“I said I was sorry,” I whispered.
“You haven’t actually said that yet.”
“I was planning to.”
“When?”
“Before retirement.” I muttered.
For one dangerous second, I thought I saw amusement in his eyes.
Then the elevator chimed.
The doors opened onto the cardiology floor, and the crowd began spilling out. The pressure around us disappeared, cool air rushing back into space.
I stepped forward so quickly I almost tripped.
Professional. Be professional, Silvia.
Behind me, I heard Dr. Quill clear his throat.
“Try not to injure yourself before rounds begin.”
Too late.
My dignity was already clinically deceased.
Walking quickly, I took a sharp turn to the left, leaning against the wall as my heart raced like it wanted to leave my chest.
“ Breathe, Silvia, breathe” I whispered to myself as my eyes were shut tight.
“ Is it working though?” his voice sounded close to my right ear as I yelped and almost tripped, but he caught my wrist and pulled me up.
Staggering forward, I pressed my palm to his vein covered strong forearm. That's when I couldn't hear anything but my heartbeat in my ears.
Staring at me, he seemed lost as well, but I couldn't tell. It lasted for a second. Without wasting time, he gently turned me around as he left my wrist, walking to room 13c.
“Keep up, Silvia,” he shouted.
That's when the other interns passed beside me and I got back to earth.
Literally.
The cardiology floor was already alive.
A monitor alarm beeped from a nearby room. A nurse hurried past carrying a tray of blood samples labeled Troponin I and CK-MB, while another read out vital signs from a chart.
“Room 13C, blood pressure 168 over 94, heart rate 112, oxygen saturation 93% on two liters nasal cannula,” she reported quickly.
Dr. Quill nodded once without breaking stride.
“Repeat the ECG in fifteen minutes and page me if the ST elevation worsens.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
The words hit me all at once.
Troponin. ECG. ST elevation.
This was real cardiology, not lecture hall cardiology.
Room 13C smelled faintly of antiseptic and oxygen.
An elderly woman lay propped up on the bed, an oxygen cannula beneath her nose and ECG leads scattered across her chest. Her breathing was labored, each inhale sounding heavier than the last.
Dr. Quill stepped to the bedside instantly, all teasing gone.
“Good morning, Mrs. Brooks,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I’m Dr. Quill. This is my intern team.”
Her swollen ankles peeked out from beneath the blanket, and a chart clipped to the bed rail read:
ELEANOR BROOKS — AGE 72
Shortness of breath • Bilateral leg swelling • Suspected acute heart failure
“Dr. Pears,” Dr. Quill said without looking at me, “what do you notice?”
I swallowed and forced myself to focus.
“Bilateral pitting edema,” I answered. “Tachypnea. Possible fluid overload.”
“Good. Listen to her lungs.”
My fingers trembled slightly as I placed the stethoscope against her back.
Crackles.
Fine crackles at the bases.
Pulmonary edema.
The realization hit me hard. I looked up, and Dr. Quill gave a single approving nod.
“Medicine begins with observation,” he said quietly. “Machines confirm what your eyes and ears already suspect.”
Before I could respond, a nurse burst through the doorway, breathless.
“Dr. Quill, the cath lab, is requesting you immediately.”
His expression sharpened.
“What happened?”
“New admission from the emergency department. Thirty-two-year-old male. Severe chest pain. ST elevation in leads II, III, and aVF. He’s deteriorating fast.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Dr. Quill turned toward us.
“Group Three,” he said, already moving for the door, “welcome to your first live cardiac emergency.”
My pager vibrated violently against my hip.
CODE STEMI — CATH LAB NOW
And suddenly I understood that this was no longer orientation.
It was war.
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