Page 21 of Booked for Theft

“How long does it take for you to detect diabetes?” Dr. Won asked.

I concentrated, checked over both men, and clued in on why Dr. Won had asked; not all types of diabetes were created equal. Some were due to poor diet and weight, others were due to genetics.

Dr. Won suffered from one of the genetic variants. “You have genetic diabetes, I’m not sure precisely which type or its severity, but yes, I can sense the oddity in your blood. Your sugars are a little off, so you should probably check it before the operation.”

Dr. Pilsir grinned. “He is thirty minutes late with his medications. He wanted to test if you were as good as people claim. At thirty minutes late, his blood sugar would be slightly off.”

“Please go take your medication, Dr. Won.” I sighed. “At least tell me it has a fast onset.”

“It takes about five minutes. It’s a mix of magic and medicine. I actually have six hours before I need to take it. I’ll be taking it right before we begin so the dosage lasts through my entire day.” He offered a smile, opened the door, and waited for me to step inside. “I’m going to be the primary operating surgeon today. Dr. Pilsir is going to back me up, as double lung transplants can get touchy. He’s actually off work today and came in upon learning Senator Thaddens is a match for our patient. One of our associates had started the organ donation checklist an hour after his arrival at his wife’s request. It was clear early on his chances for survival were not good.”

“The news said fifty-fifty,” I murmured.

“That was the case when he first arrived,” Dr. Won admitted. “But then we ran him through our machines and saw the extent of the damage. It appears he has had several silent attacks prior, likely assumed to be heartburn or some other condition. There was already some scarring on his heart.”

That, too, happened sometimes. “Just enough of a heart attack to scar, not enough of one to completely stop the heart from beating.”

“Correct. It’s rare, but it can happen. His heart will be going to a medical research center to study how he didn’t have diagnosed heart attacks prior when the damage is visible on the machines. Had he been scanned as a precaution, things might be different right now.”

“Insurance companies hate precautionary scans without justification,” I complained. “Don’t you know those are expensive, Dr. Pilsir?”

Both doctors regarded me through narrowed eyes, and the supporting surgeon asked, “Are you sure you haven’t gone through official medical training?”

“I really haven’t. I just have an adopted spleen the insurance company doesn’t like checking on because that costs money.” I held out my right foot for them to admire. “And don’t get me started on this. I drove my fiancé’s car yesterday. We made it the entire trip without incident.”

With a bright smile, Dr. Won patted my shoulder. “Well done, Janette. Congratulations. No PTSD episodes?”

“I didn’t have an episode,” I confirmed. “Now, being honest? I can’t promise I won’t have an episode when we get to the spleen portion of our day, but if the patient needs my help, they will get my help.”

“We have a list. If you can give us even three hours after we’re finished with the transplant, it’ll be a huge help,” Dr. Won confessed.

They guided me down a flight of stairs into the hospital proper, and Dr. Pilsir let us in with his badge. “As we haven’t had a chance to work together before, we’ll talk you through the procedure, and I’ll direct you on what needs to happen with his oxygen levels, which we’ll be monitoring the entire time. Ideally, we’ll keep him at 99-100% the entire procedure, but I understand that might be difficult with both of his lungs at commission.”

“What is his blood oxygen levels currently?”

“He is currently at 71.2% when off life support, and we’re down to 75% with life support. His lungs are just too scarred and damaged.”

I sucked in a breath. At 70%, it was likely the patient would die. The organs required oxygen, and once the blood oxygen levels hit 70%, the doomsday clock typically hit midnight. “How long has he been like this?”

“A week. He turned the wrong corner six nights ago after an episode. President Castillo has been visiting him daily, and they were planning on giving him his last rites tonight. The patient’s name is Nathan, and he’s twenty-two years old.”

“Well, if I have anything to do with it, that’s one appointment that will be cancelled.” I straightened my shoulders. “That leads to potentially the only issue, and that’s my foot. I haven’t actually tried being on it all day in a setting like this before. I usually take care to take frequent breaks to keep from angering it.”

“If you anger it helping our patients, I’m sure we can handle contacting your primary physician and taking any necessary steps. If you start having PTSD symptoms, do let us know. We can help.”

I nodded. “I’m sure as long as none of the machines are connected to me, it’ll be fine. It’s only when the machines are connected to me that I start giving the medical staff significant issues. I’m sure Dr. Mansfield would love to tell you all about the trouble I have given her during my various hospitalizations.”

“I’ll make certain to contact her if we have any issues.” Dr. Pilsir led the way down the hallway, and the nurses made way for us. We stopped at an elevator, and he badged to activate it before tapping the down button. “We’ve already moved Senator Thaddens to the operation room, and the nurses are preparing our patient for the transplant now. President Castillo is going to be haunting the waiting room, I’m afraid. We tried to convince him to return to the White House, but he is of the opinion his family requires him here. The family has lost most hope at this stage, so any chance is significant for them.”

That I could understand. “At least this time, I am using a senator’s blood with permission,” I muttered.

Both doctors chuckled at my comment. When the elevator pinged and the door opened, he held it while Dr. Pilsir and I stepped inside. “Yes. Mrs. Thaddens made it clear that this is what he would want, and she brought supporting documentation dated over a decade ago. Her quick decision is going to save numerous lives today if all goes well.”

“And so he dies a hero.” I wondered when the shock of his death would actually hit me. I supposed tomorrow—or after the operations.

Once the work began, it would be a race against time, fighting for a life hot on the heels of the death of a good man—or at least a man who wanted to be good and had been playing with a deck stacked against him. I could only watch the videos he had left in my care and regret life’s twists and turns.

Both doctors nodded. When we reached the third floor, the elevator opened, and we headed down a long, quiet corridor, one with only medical staff. Dr. Won gestured to the hallway behind us. “The waiting room for this floor is back there, and we’re in the locked part of this floor. This is where we do our touchiest operations and transplants. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be allowed back here, but we have all the waivers we need already signed. We have opted to bill the insurance company for your contribution, but the patient will not be paying for your participation.”

“You can do that?” I asked.

Dr. Won’s grin had a rather sharp edge to it. “We may have mentioned that you are treating President Castillo’s nephew, and that it would, perhaps, be wise if they dished out for the full cost of care. We dislike insurance companies probably as much as you do. I lost a patient due to their neglect, and I slap back at every opportunity. My motto is ‘never again’ when it comes to those bastards. So far, so good.”

Greed always found a way to destroy things, mostly lives. “Well, if I can help, I will.”

“Today, I think we’ll be walking away with only the one death none of us could avoid. But for our peace of mind, please do give us your opinion on if you think Senator Thaddens can be saved. You might notice something we’ve missed.”

“I’ll check him over.” The promise hurt, because no matter what happened, I would ultimately be choosing who lived and died. I hoped the senator had crossed the point of no return and that none of us was to blame for his fate.

That way, his death would be easier to accept.