ᴋɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴏɪꜱꜱᴀɴᴛ | 𝘓𝘰𝘶 𝘹 𝘋𝘦𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘦

chapitre trois | k&c

𝕂𝕀𝕊𝕊𝔼𝕊 𝔸ℕ𝔻 ℂℝ𝕆𝕀𝕊𝕊𝔸ℕ𝕋

—

ᴅᴇʙʙɪᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ, clad in blue scrubs, stood at the center of controlled chaos as she reviewed patient charts at the nurse's station. Being productive at early duties.

"I love medical dramas, but sometimes they're just too unrealistic," one of the nurses said.

Sophie giggled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, you mean the one where the surgeon miraculously revives a patient after three minutes of CPR?"

Debbie chuckled softly, glancing up from the chart. "I have to admit, those shows certainly take some liberties with reality."

Isabelle tilted her head, her tone curious. "Dr. Ocean, have you ever had a patient just suddenly wake up like that in the middle of surgery?"

Debbie's lips curled into a half-smile. "Well, in reality, patients are usually under anesthesia during surgery, so no sudden wake-ups. But I have seen some unexpected reactions when patients regain consciousness post-op."

"Come on, Sofie. They're just actresses playing pretend roles."

"Je sais." The first nurse playfully nudged her colleague. "But, doctor Ocean, have you had Hollywood celebrities as patients, though?"

Debbie laughed, a melodious sound that echoed through the hallway. "Just a few well-known individuals as patients. But you know, a broken bone is a broken bone, no matter whose it is."

The two women laughed.

Just as the conversation began to flow, the blaring sirens of an ambulance grew louder, signaling the arrival of a new patient. The nurses exchanged knowing glances as they straightened up, their demeanor shifting to professionalism. Debbie's focus sharpened, and she nodded to the nurses.

"Hold that thought, ladies. We've got a new arrival."

Swiftly, she made her way to the entrance, her steps measured and confident. The automatic doors slid open, revealing a team of paramedics whose faces were urgent. On the stretcher, a man lay propped up, his features a mask of pain as he clutched his fractured arm.

Debbie's gaze caught on his ashen complexion and the subtle sheen of sweat on his brow. The screeching tires of the ambulance faded into silence, replaced by the soft buzz of overhead lights.

"Car accident, multiple fractures," one paramedic briefed as they wheeled the man inside. "Left humerus is the most critical."

Debbie nodded, her fingers already working on the buttons of her surgical gown. "Get him prepped for surgery. I'll need X-rays and a detailed scan of the fracture."

The patient was transferred quickly into the operating room, and as the anesthesia began to take effect, his eyelids grew heavy and his breathing steadied. Debbie followed, her steps hurried. The patient was now lying on the operating table when she arrived, her hands now gloved, and she reached for the X-rays that had been tacked onto a lightbox. The fracture was complex—a jagged line cutting through the bone—a true challenge.

She stood by the table, her hands hovering over the patient's arm, her fingers gentle yet confident. The scrub nurse handed her a scalpel, and with precision born of experience, Debbie made the initial incision, the patient blissfully unaware.