flatline [m.s]

xiii.

- - -
when we're interns, we know what we want, to become surgeons. and we'll do anything to get there. suffer through killer exam, endure hundred-hour weeks, stand for hours on end in operating rooms, you name it, we'll do it.
- - -

"what exactly is a gentlemen's evening?" mark asks derek as they pause to talk at the bottom of the stairs.

"i don't know," derek shrugs. "it's an evening with gentlemen."

"and strippers?" mark smirks.

"no, i don't- i don't think the chief meant strippers," derek chuckles.

"sure, sounds like strippers," mark states before turning to look at dr. bailey who has just past them and began to head up the stairs. "dr. bailey? what's the first thing that comes to mind when i say the words 'gentlemen's evening'?"

"tassels. shiny, sequinned tassels and one dollar bills," bailey answers, then proceeding up the hospital stairs.

"see? strippers," mark reiterates.

"there will be no strippers. i'm almost positive," derek reassures. "i think he's just bored, waiting to be cleared for surgery. he just does paperwork in his office."

"so you don't know what this thing is either?" mark asks.

"no, but you're in?" derek raises his eyebrow at his best friend.

"why not? i like to be surprised," mark shrugs.

■ ■ ■

"the trick is to envision the artery like a spaghetti noodle- pliable, but not too fragile," lia explains to jackson in the middle of mr. arnold's surgery. "you see that?"

"it's a blockage," jackson states. "left main coronary artery. it's totally closed off."

"there's no way i'm getting a stent in there. we're gonna have to open him up."

"b.p's dropping to fifty-eight over twenty," jackson informs her. "and his heart's racing."

"and his temp's rising," lia points out. "muscles are rigid. all right, let's bring him off anaesthesia and start him on hundred percent o-2. he's got malignant hypothermia."

"so he's allergic to the anaesthesia?" jackson raises his brow.

"he'll never be able to endure the cabg," lia sighs.

"so what are our options?"

■ ■ ■

"wide awake?" mr. arnold asks lia once he has woken up following the failed surgery. "you want me to let you slice open my chest while i'm wide awake?"

"it's your best option," she informs him.

"uh, how... how long would i have to be lying there, uh, on the table with my chest open, uh, like that?"

"the surgery can take up to five or six hours. maybe more," lia truthfully explains.

"uh, six hours... awake... with you operating on my heart. i..."