Nikita

As I walk to the OR I think about what the director just said. I know I'm a liability and they are not willing to accept that. I can't think of anything right now other than the fact that the woman in my house is a traitor.

I wonder what she'll get from doing what she is doing right now. maybe she's the mastermind, maybe she's a pawn. So many maybes however, I put all that on pause as I walk into the room. The nurses are ready and two other surgeons are already dressed.

I scrub off and get to work.

Today, my patient has two tumors. One in the brain and another in her fallopian tube. I wonder what she must have done for the universe to be this cruel to her. She's a woman in her mid-thirties and she looks so pale.

Chemo does that to people, but the way she's smiling at us would make anyone think that she's doing okay. Then again, her smile is familiar.

Her smile looks like the one I saw today in my mirror.

The smile that reassures people, the one that tells them not to worry.

The "I'll be okay soon" kind of smile.

The smile that knows this is just a hail mary but they already know that nothing can be done.

Before I can bring the process with her, I ask her her name.

"Noelani,'' she tells me, and boy, her voice is beautiful, just like her name. I know she's covered in surgical wear, but even then, she tries to make us feel comfortable and that scares me.

Any patient who tries to make things better, already knows they're not coming out of this alive. I want to tell her she'll be okay, that she will survive, but even I can't do that.

I'm just a surgeon. The least I can do is try to fix her, but only God can heal her.

"Beautiful name for a queen," I tell her and she smiles.

My team just smiles at me with their eyes as they wait with their surgical tools ready. They know what I know, so they don't hurry me. The nurse injects the anesthetic fluid in her system as she nods at me, telling me it's done.

"Okay, Noelani, could you count backward from ten please," I tell her, with a smile on my face. I know she can't see my smile because of the masks I'm wearing, but my eyes tell something close to a smile.

I hope she sees that and knows I understand her. As she counts backward, she falls asleep, making the easiest part of the surgery complete. I glance at the do not resuscitate form on the table and look at the surgeon in the room.

"Yeah. That is what she wants."

"Have you told her family yet?"

"Yeah," he says and I sigh. This hurts more than it should have.

Getting attached to our patients is unavailable for surgeons because otherwise would be compromised, but still, it doesn't make it easier. The fact that she presented herself for the tumors to be removed at once makes me even question her ability to withstand pain, but then I realize that she looked numb.

The pain made her numb, and she wouldn't feel anything anyways. That makes me ask the universe for the hundredth time today what it wants with us.

Why expose us to so many painful moments.

Why bring us here if they were to hurt us anyways.

Saying a silent prayer, I being the procedure.

Having done so many surgeries, I have mastered the art, though that doesn't mean I haven't lost people on the surgical table. In the six years, I've been in this operation room, I've only lost one. I just hope Noelani isn't the second one.

Seventy-two hours later, my team and I are done with the surgery, and boy we look like zombies. If the apocalypse was to happen today, we would just wait for the mines to eat us. That is how tired we all are.

On the bright side, the surgeries were successful. It was by far the riskiest surgery I've ever done in my entire life, but it was a success. I thank the universe this time, as the nurses wheel Noelani out and into the Intensive care unit.

At least something is right about today.

"Good job everyone," I tell them as we slowly walk out of the operation room. I'm happy my patient survived, now I Hope she gets healed. The hospital seems to have gotten busier in the past few days, but it's nothing new.

Being in one room for three days straight with surgical tools and the stench of medicine kinda makes the brain reset for a while. I try to smile at the kids on the highways, smiling and playing around but with their nurses watching over them.

I don't need a master to tell me that these kids are having chronic illnesses. That is the policy of the hospital. Of course, they are on the third floor so that they are not hurt by anyone while they try to live their days.

These kids hold a special place in my heart, not because they had cancer or something, but because their smiles are genuine. Their laughter is always lively even though they are always cooped up on medicine.

They always bring life into this floor, the one filled with operation rooms and surgeons who fight to save lives.

Maybe that is the twist of it all, but they are adorable.

Besides, it's rude to be mean to little angels like this one.

"Yes dear, but the doc needs to rest so he can save another,'' I tell her, and she gives me her gummy smile. Aah, that smile that melts my heart.

"Okay," she says as she runs off but I stop her with the one thing she loves doing, giving us high-fives.

"Where's my high-five today angel?" I ask her while pouting and she runs back, gives me a high five, and hugs my legs. Well, at least she knows I'm too tired to carry her today. With that, she squeals and disappears along the highway. Well, she's a delight, that one.

I make my way to the elevator and thankfully it has no one I could easily sleep with here. but this is a hospital and it wouldn't be right if I slept in the elevators, besides, who knows what emergency could pop up next.

My brain is slowly getting even drunker.

It's obvious the three days of lack of sleep is finally getting to me, and here I thought we were besties.

Fuck, snap out of it Mykolajki.

I find my way into my office and lock the door before going to my bed unit and slumping myself there.

I don't care about anything else as I get under the duvets and hug my pillow and hope to God there isn't a surgery that needs me in the next six hours.

I need to fuċkɨnġ sleep.

The moment my head hits the pillow, they begin again.

I'm starting to think the universe has a strong hatred for me.. It should have let me die in their stead rather than making me suffer like this daily.