Downtown Dani Page 3

  Liz: Dear Dick Doc

  Forgot to ask you earlier and I need your expert advice

  Tingly lube for sex

  Wary but curious

  Should I try it?

  A short audible laugh escapes my lips. What a nut. This one’s going to have to wait. Plus, the next time I see Liz I need to tell her about Victor. She is going to freak. I think she despises Victor almost as much as I do due to all the nonsense he directs my way. She’s protective of me and vice-versa. I’m very lucky to have Liz on team Dani.

  I quickly make my way down to the operating rooms on the third floor and head into the supply room where there is the best selection of urinary catheters in the hospital to choose from. I grab several catheters of varying thicknesses.

  Outside of OR four I take off my white coat and hang it on a hook next to the hand washing sinks. I put on the standard gear necessary to enter an OR to maintain a sterile environment: paper booties over my shoes, a hat that looks like an ill-fitting shower cap, and a surgical mask.

  When I go into the room, I can cut the tension with a knife (no pun intended). All eyes in the room including the anesthesia attending and residents, surgery attending and residents, OR nurses, and scrub technicians turn to me. I scan the room and my heart skips a beat. Holy crap, this is Dr. Cardona’s OR today.

  All surgeons expect the OR to run like a well-oiled machine. When an unforeseen delay arises, the frustration of the attending surgeon puts every person in the OR on edge. Dr. Cardona is sitting on a stool in the corner with his arms crossed and angry steam figuratively spewing out of his ears. I know he’s pissed off, but damn, he still manages to pull off the whole sexy brooding thing. I immediately feel a flush rise up my face. It’s a good thing I’m wearing a mask.

  Dr. Cardona looks over at me. “Dani, thank you for coming so quickly.”

  Well, shit howdy, he remembered my name! Dani, stay focused, I reprimand myself.

  “This is going to be a very long case,” Dr. Cardona continues, “and we are already way behind schedule. This patient absolutely needs to have a catheter in place before we can proceed.”

  “Uhh, of course, Dr. Cardona. I’m uhh, I’m on it.” Ah crap, I’d better not muff this up. As I open a new Foley insertion kit, I ask the general surgery resident who had paged me, “Do you know if this patient has a history of an enlarged prostate or prostatic surgeries?”

  “Nope, no known urologic issues.”

  I look over at the circulating OR nurse and ask, “While I try to put this catheter in, could you please get a flexible cystoscope in case I need to scope the patient?”

  “Sure,” she responds and immediately leaves the room to retrieve the equipment I’ve requested.

  I put on sterile gloves, clean the head of the penis with Betadine, and lube up the tip of one of the catheters I have brought. The catheter slides into the penis easily until it reaches where I approximate the prostate to be, and then stops. I gently try to advance the catheter, but I don’t want to force it and traumatize the urethra more than it already is. “I can’t get the catheter in blindly. I’m going to have to use the cystoscope so that I can see where I am going.”

  I hear Dr. Cardona mutter, “Hijo de puta! Fóllame!” I sneak a peek at him just in time to see him close his eyes and take a deep calming breath, probably to help resist the urge to throw something or somebody across the OR.

  Luckily, the OR nurse reenters the room just at that moment with all the things I need for the cystoscopy. I take the flexible cystoscope out of the sterile instrument box and attach the light cord and the irrigation tubing to it. I insert the end of the cystoscope, which looks like a long pliable black tube about the width of a pencil, into the tip the patient’s penis. It’s a good thing he’s already asleep. It’s no fun to see the look of terror on a man’s face when he sees for the first time what is about to enter his pee hole. I bring the eyepiece of the cystoscope up to my right eye and guide it deeper along the urethra. It’s smooth sailing until I enter the prostatic urethra where I encounter large blood clots obscuring my view. However, I’m able to navigate the scope past these obstacles along with the enlarged prostatic lobes and finally emerge into the cavernous bladder. Whew, I made it!

  I thread a flexible wire through the cystoscope until the tip enters the bladder. I remove the cystoscope, keeping the wire in place. Then I slide a catheter over the wire, ensuring proper placement into the bladder. Lastly, I inflate the balloon at the tip of the catheter inside the bladder so that it won’t slip out. Ta-da!

  I look up half expecting a round of applause for saving the day and keeping Dr. Cardona from spontaneously combusting, but I’m met instead with a flurry of activity from the OR staff now that they can move on to starting the case.

  “Alright, we’re all set,” I announce. “The prostatic urethra is pretty mucked up, so I’d keep his catheter in for a couple of days to allow it to heal.”

  “Got it,” says the general surgery resident. “Thanks for getting that in.”

  “You bet.”

  As I clean up my mess, Dr. Cardona comes over to me and places his hand lightly on my shoulder, which sears my skin under my scrubs. A tingle runs from his hand down to my toes. He whispers in my ear, “Dani, you are an amazing urologist and an irresistible woman. I want to thank you by giving you oral pleasure, mi amor.”

  Ha, I wish! Of course, he doesn’t say that. Instead I get a very curt, “Thank you, Dani,” sans eye contact, which still makes my legs go weak and my heart do double-time.

  “Uh, yeah, no problem,” I stammer. “I’m glad I could see you.” Oh fuck. Did I just say that out loud? I try to quickly amend my unintended confession. “I mean, I’m glad I could help out. Good luck with the catheter.” Argh! “I mean the case.”

  Dr. Cardona pauses to actually look at me, and if I’m not mistaken, there is a little smirk behind his surgical mask.

  Before anymore verbal vomit can come out of my mouth, I wrap things up with a simple, “Um, bye,” and hightail it out of the room.

  On the safe side of the door I lean up against the wall and take a minute to collect myself. With my heart pounding I briefly close my eyes and recount what I said to Dr. Cardona. I am such a moron. Well, at least I got the catheter in. He won’t think I’m a sucky urologist too.

  Clearly, Dr. Cardona is not too fazed by my recent presence. Through the door I hear him take control of his OR. “Okay, vamanos todos! Let’s get this patient prepped and draped!”

  CHAPTER 4

  A steady succession of acute patient health issues and administrative duties quickly consume the rest of my afternoon. Before I know it, it’s time to see all of our patients on evening rounds with Ravi, the chief resident of the urology service. We finish up in the recovery room with the fresh post-op patients that don’t have beds on the floor yet. After discussing the last details about the patient plans for tonight and tomorrow morning, Ravi bids me farewell as he heads home. “Let me know if anything comes in that needs to go to the OR emergently tonight.”

  “Will do.”

  With Ravi gone, I text page the other urology residents which patients they need to round on in the morning. When I look up, I see Liz entering the recovery room from an OR pushing a patient on a stretcher which she parks in slot five. After giving the recovery room nurse the pertinent information on the patient, she comes over to me at the computer workstations and gives me a fist bump as she takes a seat at the computer next to mine. “Are you on call tonight?” Liz asks.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Although the good news is since it’s Thursday night, I will be post call on a Friday and actually have the entire weekend off.”

  “Look at you, glass half full kind of gal. I have this weekend off too. Do you have any plans?”

  “Huge,” I say sarcastically. “After sleeping like a hibernating bear, I think I’m going to finally clean the rancid food out of my refrigerator.”

  “How very not exciting. Jeff and I may get together with
my brother and his girlfriend tomorrow night for dinner. You should join us.”

  Adam is Liz’s older brother and they are really close. He is a lawyer at a big firm in Midtown Manhattan and Gia is his girlfriend du jour. Adam is usually invited when I go out with Liz and Jeff.

  “I don’t want to be a fifth wheel.”

  “Oh, come on. You are never a third or fifth wheel when you’re with us. Jeff loves having you around.”

  “You’re sweet, but there are times that I wonder if Jeff thinks he is married to both you and me.”

  “Probably. Well, except for no crazy porn sex from you,” Liz says with exaggeration. “Right?”

  “Of course not. I get all the orgasms I need from Mr. V.”

  “Dani, Dani, Dani,” Liz says with exasperation as she shakes her head. “What’s the full name of your vibrator again?”

  “Umberto Valero, hence the Mr. V. He’s more reliable than any man I’ve ever been with. It really is the perfect substitute for a man. He never gets tired when he’s pleasuring me, knows to just focus on my clitoris, and never complains about how long it takes for me to orgasm.

  “Dani, these are dangerous waters you’re wading in. No guy is ever going to live up to the bar that Mr. V has set.”

  “Indeed. I may be ruined forever!” I lament.

  All of a sudden, I remember that I haven’t had a chance to tell Liz about my encounter with Victor earlier today. I had effectively blocked the incident from my emotional consciousness for most of the day. “Oh shit, I forgot to tell you what happened this morning.” A fresh wave of anger hits me full force as I recall what transpired.

  “Whoa, what is it?” Liz asks concerned.

  “Fucking Victor.”

  “Ugh, what did that snake do this time?” Clearly Liz has not fallen under Victor’s spell either.

  “Victor was, of course, trying to shirk his duties and make me do a consult he was supposed to finish yesterday. When I called him out on it, he got mad and told me that he knew that I’m divorced and that Brandon cheated on me because I was a shitty wife with small tits. Oh, and let me not forget, he also said that I’m a crappy surgeon.”

  Liz slams both of her hands down on the countertop and whisper-yells, “What…the fuck? How dare he say that to you? The next time I see him I’m gonna rip out both of his jugulars with my bare hands and shove them down his throat!” Liz’s eyes are fierce and it looks like fire is about to come shooting out of her nose. “First of all, you and I and the rest of this hospital know that you are the best goddamned surgeon that urology department has ever had the privilege of training. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your best friend. It’s the truth. That hack is just jealous of you. Secondly, how the hell did Victor find out that you were married to Brandon?”

  It’s good to see somebody as outraged as I feel. “Victor said he had some connection in Texas. Maybe he ran into somebody I went to med school with at UT Southwestern who told him about it. Who knows?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if he went so low that he hired a P.I. to drum up some dirt. It’s the only way he’s got any chance of getting the Weinhurst fellowship over you. That rat bastard.”

  “I’ve got to tell you, it pisses me off to no end that I let Victor get under my skin sometimes. I can usually can handle it, but he really threw me for a loop this time,” I say.

  “No kidding. What did you do? Did you bitch slap him and then kick his nads up into his pancreas?” Liz asks. “That would have been very warranted in my humble opinion.”

  “I wish I could have done that, trust me. But nah, I just kind of pushed him away from me because he was all up in my face. It was pretty unnerving.”

  “Victor is a total head case, Dani. That’s a really lousy thing to throw at you. I know how private you are at work about your personal life. But if it’s any consolation, it’s not a big deal if people know you are divorced. Lots of people are and nobody thinks twice about it. You were young when you got married. And yes, it was totally bonkers to get married right out of college, you crazy Southerners, but I digress. Brandon just wasn’t the right person for you long term. In reality you dodged a bullet getting rid of that dead weight before you had invested even more time into that assbag.”

  “I know that. And I’ve gotten over Brandon. I really have. I mean, god, we got divorced, what, eight years ago? Brandon is ancient history. But sometimes it’s hard not to remember that I’m a thirty-four-year-old divorcee with an all-consuming job who sometimes talks to myself out loud in the third person to feel like somebody is listening.”

  “Maybe you should get a cat for some companionship. I hear they’re pretty low maintenance.”

  “You know I hate cats,” I say, appalled as I push Liz’s wheeled chair slightly away from me.

  “Of course, I know that. I just thought it would be funny to make your divorcee status a little more cliché.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I’m just kidding. But seriously, maybe you should make more time for a man in your life, and the fantasy of Dr. Cardona does not count.”

  Here we go again. Liz is always trying to get me to go out with more guys. “I don’t feel like I need a man to complete me.”

  “I’m not saying you need a man. I’m just saying that sometimes it’s nice to be the recipient of some male affections. You of all people could use a little distraction from this damn hospital.”

  “I don’t really have time for dating.”

  This induces an eye roll from Liz.

  I continue with, “Plus, I’ve got to get this fellowship with Dr. Weinhurst. I don’t know what I would do if I don’t.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You would still be a urologist that operates on kidneys and bladders and vaginas and penises when you finish residency whether you do this particular fellowship or not. Let’s also not forget that you’ve applied to three other minimally invasive programs who I’m sure are tripping over their dicks to get you to come to their hospitals. You’re going to be doing a fellowship one way or another. It just depends on where.”

  “I know, but I really want this one here. I mean I just really fucking want it, like deep in my bones. It will feel like I failed if I don’t.”

  “Oh dear god, are we getting back to the failure thing again? You are nothing but a success. Yes, your marriage ended, but it was because your shithead ex-husband slept with some trashy, big-titted bimbo who lived down the hallway in your apartment building the first time something got difficult in your marriage. It was not because you wanted to be a doctor. Brandon was crazy not to encourage you. Jeff is always telling me he can’t wait for me to finish residency so that I can be his sugar mama and he can retire at age thirty-five.”

  “I know. I’ve heard Jeff voice that opinion many a time. You are very lucky to have such a supportive husband, but you have to admit that this lifestyle is not exactly a cakewalk for any spouse married to a doctor and especially a surgeon. Brandon had signed up for marrying a nurse with a forty-hour work week.”

  “That’s horseshit, Dani. I’m sorry, but I can’t look beyond the cheating part. He showed his true colors to you. I think Brandon’s infidelity would have happened one way or another. There would have been some other reason he would have found to not be satisfied. There is absolutely no excuse for cheating. It is the weak man who cannot keep his schlong in his pants. Sure, changing career plans can throw a wrench in a marriage, but if Brandon had been a real man, he would have talked to you about it. Not fuck the first thing he saw out his front door to console himself. Your marriage might not have worked out regardless, but no, Brandon does not get off the hook.”

  “Wow, you are not sugar coating anything tonight, are you?”

  “When do I ever,” responds Liz. “Look, I know you are hell bent on getting Weinhurst’s fellowship and being a big swinging dick in academic urology, but when is enough, enough? It’s okay to actually allow yourself to enjoy life outside of medicine.”

  “Hey now,
I enjoy my life,” I respond defensively.

  “Please give me one example of true joy you’ve experienced in the last six months that does not involve Mr. V. or removing an organ from a patient.”

  Hmm, that’s a tough one. She might have me there. Oh wait, I’ve got it. With an air of victory I answer with, “On Monday, in fact, I purchased a pint of New York Chocolate Bonanza from the bodega just outside the hospital at 2:00 am while I had a lull in ER consults. I ate the entire fucking thing in one sitting, and it was glorious.”

  “Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got. That is so lame,” Liz says unimpressed. “Dani, do you want more in your life than just your job?”

  “This job is hard as hell, but I love it. I love being in the OR and operating. I totally get my jollies off of it.” I’d never admit it out loud, but this job also scares the hell out of me. Knowing that I could potentially kill somebody on a daily basis if I make a mistake is terrifying, but that’s another reason why I train so hard. “But, is it enough? I don’t know. I try not to think too much about it.”

  “Let me ask you something. Do you want to find someone special and maybe get married again, or do you just want a good shtupping every now and then?”

  “Oh Liz, you have such a way with words. Sure, I’m not opposed to being in a relationship, but it has to be on my terms. He has to be okay with me having a crazy schedule and maybe not being around all the time.”

  “Yes, it is true he would have to accept you for the badass urological surgeon that you are. He also has to be okay with you looking at a bunch of dongs every day.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, there is that too. You sure know how to round out a pep talk.”

  “Thank you. Thank you very much. If this general surgery thing doesn’t work out, I can always become a life coach.”

  “Yeah right. You’d just end up yelling at people and telling them to get off their lazy asses and make something of themselves.”

  “What’s wrong with that approach?”