Why should he pay me two hundred grand?

Or I saved his kid, which means I did my job, like the world’s greatest plumber does his job unclogging the family toilet.

So sure, the hospital and I deserve something, but two hundred grand?

How can we possibly charge two hundred grand for a days’ work?

In most cases it’s not even their money at stake, it’s an insurance issue. But he’ll threaten to sue over the deductible, or the overage, or the out-of-pocket, or the increased future premium assessment.

Before the operation we’re all supposed to hold hands and be friends. Afterward, he won’t give a rat’s ass about me, or what I had to go through to save his child.

And neither will Jordan.

I don’t say any of this to the Calfees, which proves I’m getting better at these parent conferences despite the stack of complaints in my personnel file.

“Everyone says you’re the best,” Jordan says. “I know it’s bad, but you’ll save Lainey, right? You will, won’t you?”

When they beg, it’s like I’m drinking the chalk. I’ll need a toilet soon.

Jordan pulls away from her husband and gets right up in my face. Could there be any emotion on earth more raw and heartbreaking than a mother’s love for her dying child? Jordan’s red eyes and wet cheeks are love’s battlefield. When she speaks, her hot, sweet breath fans my lips and fills my nostrils.

“Please, Dr. Box.”

Despite the dire situation, despite Jordan’s considerable beauty, wealth, and status, I see exactly what she wants me to see.

She’s a good person.

By extension, her husband and daughter are good, worthy people.

Of course, I already know this.

She grips my wrist. “I need to know there’s hope.”

I glance at Nurse Sally’s baleful look before responding. She’s Mike Tyson in a dress, only angrier.

Sally’s told me time and again the moms need something to cling to. Something to get them through the multi-hour ordeal that lies ahead. But I won’t give any parent false hope. Sally knows this, but the look in her face says she’s ready to leap across the room and royally fuck…me…up.

I ignore Sally’s look as I always do, and tell Jordan what I tell all the moms.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Calfee. There’s no hope. You need to spend the next few hours adjusting to life without Lainey Sue.”

Jordan backs away slowly, drops to the couch, stunned.

Nurse Sally shouts, “Oh no, you didn’t!” And comes out of her chair like a rocket. She launches a meaty fist toward my throat. Joe steps between us, catches the blow on his forearm, and ushers me from the room.

VII

 

I DON’T HEAR what happens next, but the routine’s always the same. The dads get angry. The moms cry. They demand to speak to the hospital administrator, Bruce Luce. They want a replacement surgeon, refusing to trust their child’s operation to one who’s already given up.

Bruce is on standby when I meet the parents, so he shows up quickly, finds Nurse Sally hugging Jordan to her ample bosom, Security Joe staring straight ahead with dead eyes while Will curses and threatens to physically assault me.