anastomosis ⇏ o'malley

01 | to begin

Furrowing my brow in annoyance, I stand on my tip toes, desperate for a glimpse of the action, only to be pushed back down.

"I'm jealous of that resident's intern," the rude girl from before says wistfully before Stevens shoos us out and leads us to another room.

"Okay, this is Cristina; Doctor Yang. She's working."

"Yup," I hear Yang say, "saving lives and taking names."

My heart skips a beat at her words, and for a second I find myself wishing that I was assigned to her and not to this blonde who couldn't even get her hands on a patient.

Once more, Stevens ushers us out and back into the main E.R. room.

"She can't even bag a case," someone whispers, "we're never going to get a patient."

"Ho-ly shit, what is that, guys?"

Glancing up, I watch in awe as a tall man drags his son into the room, brandishing a wrapped up arm.

"Uh, we found an arm on the road."

"That's my arm!" The resident from earlier screams, and she grabs it from him without another word, rushing back to her patient to save her life once more.

"Dad," the boy tugs on his father's arm, "dad, tell them she's hurt! Dad, come on, tell the doctor! Tell 'em she's hurt!"

"This is it guys," the brunette from earlier claps her hands together, "this it our case!"

"Is that your blood?" I abandon the group and kneel down in front of the kid, "Are you hurt?"

"She's in our truck," He gasps, "and she's not moving! She's bleeding really badly!"

"There's another crash victim," Stevens says, "We're going to need gloves, IVs, gauze, ab pads, trauma gowns. Still want to babysit the arm?"

I let the kid lead me outside, Stevens hot on our heels as we exit the hospital and head into the parking lot, where a lone pickup truck was left.

"No way."

Ignoring the annoyed groans from my fellow interns, I turn to Michael, a small frown on my face.

"Is she dead?" He whimpers, and I glance up at Stevens, who looks at him, devastated.

"Michael, this is a hospital, and I'm a people doctor. I..."

"Can you save her?"

"Michael," his father, whose name I later find out is Chris, tugs him out of my grip, "come on."

"I'm sorry, but she's..."

"Roadkill," I frown.

"She opened her eyes!" Michael pipes up, "Look! She's still alive!"

We gather closely around the truck and glance in the trunk, where a poor deer lay pitifully on the cold metal. I watch as Stevens grumbles to herself before swiping a small hand over her hair and sighing.

"Michael," I overhear the father, "let's go back to the truck, come on."

"Please," Michael begs, and with one word, Stevens' resolve crumbles.

"Oh, okay, alright. Uh, I'm gonna need a jumbo catheter, a sixteen gauge needle, the biggest ambu bag you can find, and something that shaves fur."

I step back and regroup with my fellow interns, who all gape at her in shock.

"What's the matter with you people?" Stevens snaps, "When I say move, you move! Move!"