It was dead quiet in the Operating room, with nothing but the machines
humming and buzzing about the busy surgeons performing their miracles.
"Scalpel" a redhead with a light English accent requested.
And the instrument was handed to her. This was a very delicate procedure, and all who were present were desperately aware of that. The child must live. There was no doubt about that. It was a routing procedure made difficult by a few irregularities, but the child had to live. No one in the hospital would let him die from something as minor as this.
If there were any two surgeons that could save this boys life, it was them: Dr. Elizabeth Corday, and Dr. Robert "Rocket" Romano.
And they did.
After exiting the OR and informing the family of the success, Elizabeth Corday headed down to the Lounge. She had been on for several hours, on her feet nearly all of the time, and she desperately needed the relaxation. She just needed to sit for awhile.
As she entered the lounge she saw Romano there, reading a paper and sipping on a cup of coffee. She rolled her eyes, and entered the lounge.
"Afternoon Lizzie. Great work in there today."
"Thank you." She said tightly. She really didn't want to talk with him.
He made some sarcastic remark, but she wasn't listening. She didn't care to listen. In all honesty, she was completely and utterly tired of him. She took psychology classes in college... she knew that his unhappiness, that his sorrow and need to bring others down derived from some inner turmoil... but she'd never allowed herself to think of it that way. It wasn't an excuse for the manner in which he treated people. Many people have a hard life, and they don't feel the need to be as rude of a person as Romano was. She was, in a way, disgusted by his attitude.
She sighed and sat down.
"Long day?" Romano asked.
'Oh great' she thought, 'he's going to try to make small talk.'
"Well, Robert, I've been on for 10 hours, so, if that constitutes a long day, then I suppose." She wasn't in a good mood, and her tone most certainly conveyed that.
"Christ I hate talking to you when it's that time of the month" He retorted in his usual sarcastic moment.
"Then don't." She said hastily, too tired to fight with him.
"What the hell did I do Lizzie?" he questioned.
"Oh, you mean today? Well, nothing today." She replied and rolled her eyes. Why on earth should she be nice to a man like him?
"Well, then what's your problem, aside from the fact that you're on the rag?" he bit back.
"Oh shut UP Robert!" she was getting all the more frustrated. "What's my problem? What is your problem?"
"I have no problem." He stated matter-of-factly.
"Quite the contrary." She insisted.
"What's that supposed to mean Lizzie?"
She was having a bad day, and she was pissy. She just couldn't control her anger, something that rarely happened to her. But, she just simply COULDN'T, so.... She let him have it.
"You come in here 365 days a year acting like a complete asshole to everyone around you. It's like you never have anything nice to say to anyone, about anything!!!" She yelled "And then one day out of 365 I'm not exactly in the best mood known to mankind, and you want to know what the hell my problem is??? I'm not the one with the problem here Robert... you are." She huffed trying to catch her breath, as she said all of that insult within the short time span of ONE breath.
Her tirade hurt him. It was in his eyes. But she didn't notice. And he wasn't about to let her understand the effect her harsh words had on him.
So, he responded in the only manner that he knew how: With blatant, and angering sarcasm:
"You know you're incredibly sexy when you're angry" he retorted, and then casually went back to reading his paper.
"Oh Robert, you are impossible!" she said, and briskly walked out of the lounge.
Inside the lounge, Robert sadly put the paper down, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had an odd pain inside his heart... one that he hadn't felt for a very long time.
"Scalpel" a redhead with a light English accent requested.
And the instrument was handed to her. This was a very delicate procedure, and all who were present were desperately aware of that. The child must live. There was no doubt about that. It was a routing procedure made difficult by a few irregularities, but the child had to live. No one in the hospital would let him die from something as minor as this.
If there were any two surgeons that could save this boys life, it was them: Dr. Elizabeth Corday, and Dr. Robert "Rocket" Romano.
And they did.
After exiting the OR and informing the family of the success, Elizabeth Corday headed down to the Lounge. She had been on for several hours, on her feet nearly all of the time, and she desperately needed the relaxation. She just needed to sit for awhile.
As she entered the lounge she saw Romano there, reading a paper and sipping on a cup of coffee. She rolled her eyes, and entered the lounge.
"Afternoon Lizzie. Great work in there today."
"Thank you." She said tightly. She really didn't want to talk with him.
He made some sarcastic remark, but she wasn't listening. She didn't care to listen. In all honesty, she was completely and utterly tired of him. She took psychology classes in college... she knew that his unhappiness, that his sorrow and need to bring others down derived from some inner turmoil... but she'd never allowed herself to think of it that way. It wasn't an excuse for the manner in which he treated people. Many people have a hard life, and they don't feel the need to be as rude of a person as Romano was. She was, in a way, disgusted by his attitude.
She sighed and sat down.
"Long day?" Romano asked.
'Oh great' she thought, 'he's going to try to make small talk.'
"Well, Robert, I've been on for 10 hours, so, if that constitutes a long day, then I suppose." She wasn't in a good mood, and her tone most certainly conveyed that.
"Christ I hate talking to you when it's that time of the month" He retorted in his usual sarcastic moment.
"Then don't." She said hastily, too tired to fight with him.
"What the hell did I do Lizzie?" he questioned.
"Oh, you mean today? Well, nothing today." She replied and rolled her eyes. Why on earth should she be nice to a man like him?
"Well, then what's your problem, aside from the fact that you're on the rag?" he bit back.
"Oh shut UP Robert!" she was getting all the more frustrated. "What's my problem? What is your problem?"
"I have no problem." He stated matter-of-factly.
"Quite the contrary." She insisted.
"What's that supposed to mean Lizzie?"
She was having a bad day, and she was pissy. She just couldn't control her anger, something that rarely happened to her. But, she just simply COULDN'T, so.... She let him have it.
"You come in here 365 days a year acting like a complete asshole to everyone around you. It's like you never have anything nice to say to anyone, about anything!!!" She yelled "And then one day out of 365 I'm not exactly in the best mood known to mankind, and you want to know what the hell my problem is??? I'm not the one with the problem here Robert... you are." She huffed trying to catch her breath, as she said all of that insult within the short time span of ONE breath.
Her tirade hurt him. It was in his eyes. But she didn't notice. And he wasn't about to let her understand the effect her harsh words had on him.
So, he responded in the only manner that he knew how: With blatant, and angering sarcasm:
"You know you're incredibly sexy when you're angry" he retorted, and then casually went back to reading his paper.
"Oh Robert, you are impossible!" she said, and briskly walked out of the lounge.
Inside the lounge, Robert sadly put the paper down, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had an odd pain inside his heart... one that he hadn't felt for a very long time.