**[Columbia-Presbyterian, February 2000.]**
"Everything went well; the surgery was a success. She should make a full recovery," I said to the couple in front of me, noting how haggard they looked.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The mom jumped up and hugged me, repeatedly muttering her gratitude. The dad, on the other hand, simply offered a firm handshake and a pat on the shoulder.
I was on my way to the cafeteria to grab something to eat and some coffee when I spotted Dr. Martin approaching, her eyes brimming with hope and mischief. At that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that my day was not going to be peaceful.
"Danny, honey, how are you doing?" she said, smiling sweetly.
"Dr. Martin, we're in a hospital; you should call me Dr. White," I replied.
"Ooh, how cute! Come back to me when you're at least ten years older," she teased.
"Ugh, fine. I was trying to be professional here, Linda," I said, annoyance clear in my voice.
"Well, what do you expect? I've been babysitting you since you arrived—a baby doctor with eyes full of hope and determination," she said, feigning reminiscence, which I recognized as fake.
"Anyway, what can I do for you?" I asked, eager to steer the conversation straight to the point before she dropped the act and truly began reminiscing.
"Oh, right. I need you to cover for the interns today. Dr. Cho and I are taking a day off, and you're the only one who doesn't have interns, so you'll be taking hers as well."
"You know I can't do that; it's Chief's orders, especially after I made the last patch I was assigned cry," I told her, trying to dodge the responsibility.
"Yeah, I'm not asking. This is me cashing in one of the countless favors I've done for you over the years."
*Sigh,* "Fine," I conceded, knowing full well that arguing with her was pointless. Let's be real—she was one of the reasons the Chief didn't find out about me living in the hospital for years—her and the head nurse—so all I could do was say yes.
"Thanks, honey. You're a lifesaver. Anyway, I've got to go; I have an appointment with Roberto—the masseuse—and his godly hands," she said, blowing me a kiss as she walked away.
'Ugh, I knew she was trouble the moment I saw her coming my way; it's never anything good with her.'
So, I headed to the ER instead.
'I'll have one of the interns get me coffee,' I thought.
The ER was buzzing with the usual chaos—beeping monitors, squealing gurney wheels, and interns huddled like scared kittens.
I had just arrived and was already starting to dislike them.
"Danny, you're here, good," Dr. Morales said when he noticed me, then turned to the group of five interns.
Dr. Morales is one of the attendings here at the hospital and one of the few people I like, so he's allowed to call me Danny.
"Listen up," he began. "This is Dr. White, our chief resident—the youngest the hospital has ever seen—and one of the finest surgeons this hospital has. So, you'll be in good hands if you want to learn, that is. Try not to faint…"
With that last cryptic comment, he sat down in one of the chairs, leaving me standing in front of the interns. I stared at the charts, avoiding eye contact, as I began to speak.
"As Dr. Morales just said, I am Dr. White. You'll be shadowing me today. I'll give you five rules; memorize them.
**Rule 1:** Save your jokes, comments, and anything that's not medical in nature when talking to me.
**Rule 2:** If you see me sleeping, don't bother me unless someone is dying.
**Rule 3:** Leave your egos, valedictorian speeches, and drama at the door; I don't have time for them.
**Rule 4:** When I walk, you walk with me."
"And what's Rule 5? Drink milk?" a voice came from behind.
'And that, my dear Watson, is how you set an example for the group,' I thought.
I turned around, looked the funny intern in the eyes, and walked toward him.
"Rule 5: Know your place. You're interns—bottom feeders, unknown, unimpressive, and not at all important. I decide if you'll ever hold a scalpel in your hands, and you, my dear, have just earned yourself a week of rectal exams," I said with a smile.
"You can't do that…" he attempted to protest, but I simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"From now on, I'll call you Number 2, and for this whole week, you will be doing nothing but rectal exams. If I hear so much as a whisper about you doing anything else, I'll add another week. So tread carefully. From now on, you're on thin ice," I told him, handing him the chart.
"Now then. What are you waiting for? Shoo, shoo! The rest of you, with me," I said, starting to walk, the interns trailing behind me like baby ducks.
'This is going to be a long, long day,' I thought.
---
I was sitting in the armchair in the coffeehouse, listening to Phoebe tell the story of how the author 'CONAN'—which is me—totally ripped off her idea about Harry Potter. I was doing my hardest not to laugh and remind her that she read the beginning of the story from my draft last Thanksgiving, while Rachel sat next to her reading a fashion magazine.
*The door opened.*
Chandler entered, Monica following him, and acting as if she had just seen him…
'This is gonna be good.'
"Hey, Phoebe and Rachel," Monica said.
"I am here too," I added.
"Yeah, hi Dan," Monica said quickly before she turned to Chandler. "Hey, why don't you tell them what you said earlier about me not being high maintenance?"
"Monica is a self-sufficient, put-together lady. Being with her has been like being on vacation, and what may be perceived as high maintenance is merely attention to detail and… generosity of spirit," he finally finished saying after Monica helped him out.
"Wow, you know what? I think that was the best fake speech I've ever heard," Rachel said.
"Really? I think I've heard better," Phoebe replied.
"Wait, he came up with that himself—tell them, Chandler," Monica said defensively.
"Hey, Mon, you're not doing yourself any favors here. Come here and tell me what happened, and I will be the judge," I said, patting the armrest of the chair.
And so she came over and told me about everything that happened and how Phoebe said she was high maintenance and Rachel a pushover while admitting she was flaky. It was a funny story.
"Monica, I am still not seeing the problem here," I told her.
"I am not high maintenance. Tell them Dan!" she insisted.
"But what's so wrong about being high maintenance?" I asked. "It just means you are passionate about something, and that's a good thing in my book." Chandler took the opportunity to score relationship points as he sat down and said, "What Dr. Doogie Howser Jr. here said is true. All of this just means you get upset about the little stuff, and that's good. I'd like to think I'm pretty good at making you feel better about that too, so they can say you're high maintenance all they want, but it's okay because I like maintaining you~"
'That was corny as hell,' I closed my eyes and thought, not wanting to see him fidgeting like a high school girl longer than necessary.
"I didn't even tell him to say that," she said with a smile.
"Phoebe, it's okay if you don't want me to be your girlfriend because I have the best boyfriend in the world," Monica told Phoebe while hugging Chandler.
"You know, suddenly I find you very attractive," and as always Phoebe's responses are unpredictable.
Joey entered the coffeehouse and went straight to the chair across from me.
"Hey, how did the audition go?" Chandler asked him. Noticing the gloomy aura he had..
"Oh, I didn't get the part, and I lost my job here," Joey answered.
"Wow, that is a bad audition," Phoebe said.
"How did you lose your job here?" Rachel asked.
"Well, I had an audition, but Gunther said I had to stay here and be in charge while he went to get his hair dyed. I went anyway, and then he fired me," Joey recounted.
"He left work in the middle of the day for a personal errand and left you in charge when you'd been working here for two days? That's not okay," Rachel said, sounding a little upset.
"Hey Joey, have you ever read Sherlock Holmes?" I cut in, asking him.
"Ooh, yes. Joey here is a Watson superfan," Chandler answered instead.
"Well, I can get you an audition in the movie, but how it will turn out is totally up to you. How about it?" I told Joey, who suddenly perked up and looked at me with puppy-like eyes.
"Can you really do that?" he asked with a hopeful tone.
"Sure I can. Just give me your information later and I will see what I can do. Keep in mind the role could be anything," I answered him, reminding him not to get his hopes up.
"Well, I was just going to go tell Gunther to give me my job back, but that sounds better," Rachel commented.
I chuckled a little as the atmosphere calmed and everyone started talking about different things.
-—————-
Sorry for not updating yesterday, I have the mother of all migraines since yesterday morning. I am no stranger to headache and migraines but since I found out about the brain tumor it got more painful somehow….
for people who want to see the backstory, emotions and stuff I just have to say it's only ch4 wait a bit.
I am planning to leave the background, and backstory to be written in flashbacks and M.C's thought….
Anyway, enjoy 😊