Glass Bowl Surgeon

Glass Bowl Surgeon

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This short story is submitted for the 2025 On the Job story event. Please be aware it features one unpleasant scene.

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"I can't take care of him until you operate, Anthony."

"He's too sick to operate on. I need you to stabilize him first."

"He'll die if you don't take him to the OR right away!"

"He'll die if I do, Suzanne."

"Look, he has sepsis. Does your little surgeon brain not understand he has billions of bacteria swimming in his bloodstream and until you get rid of the source, his rotten and infected gall bladder, in case you've forgotten, there's no amount of medicine or antibiotics that'll save him."

"But I don't want him dying on the table."

"Is that what this is about? Your record of wins and losses?"

"No, it's more than that. If he crumps, I have to stand for review by the attendings."

"Tell 'em like you always tell the medical team that a chance to cut is a chance to cure."

"But..."

"And I'll be glad to testify on your behalf if it comes to that."

"You think they'll listen to a first-year flea?"

"Flea?"

"Yeah, we call you internists 'fleas.' Know why? 'Cause you bloodsuckers always travel together and are the last ones to jump off a dead dog."

"You shit! And you want me to take care of a dying guy for you after what you just said. No effin' way."

"Now, look, Suzanne, it's a joke."

"Tell it to Mr. Dead Gallbladder in there and I'm sure he'll die laughing instead of dying from a surgical condition."

"Hey, you two, we can hear you all the way to the nurses' station. What's going on?"

"Uh, Dr. Stamson, Anthony won't take this man to surgery because he's 'too sick' but he needs surgery, then we fleas, as he calls us, can help manage him post-op."

"But he's too sick for surgery and..."

"Dr. Perri, this man has a surgical abdomen and he needs surgery first and foremost. You will take him to the OR, I'll call your attending to let him know and I'll call the best gas-passer in the business who will help keep this guy alive until he hits the ICU. Understand?"

"Yes, Dr. Stamson."

"And you, Dr. Luebeck, you will go to the OR and assist. I know you medicine types are not seen in there very often but Dr. Perri will need some help as the others on his team are tied up in another case as we speak."

"But I haven't even been in the OR since med school."

"Things haven't changed much since then. Now, you two, get going. This man's life depends on it."

Two hours later, Suzanne, who was in her first-year residency in internal medicine, Anthony, who was in his second-year surgical residency, and the anesthesiologist took the super-sick post-op patient to the ICU where Suzanne was to take over the general management while the surgery team would deal with wound issues.

Over the next week, the patient was skimming the treetops and it took a heroic effort on the part of the ICU medical and nursing teams to turn things around. After another two weeks, he was stable enough to be transferred to the ward and eventually home after a total of five weeks in the hospital. Suzanne and her team were tickled to receive a huge basket of fruits and candy from his wife thanking them for saving his life.

Things between Suzanne and Anthony, however, remained frosty. Suzanne was sure it was because he didn't like being proven wrong. When they met in the halls or the cafeteria, he would glance away or ignore her greetings. But most frustrating was his looks; he was unbelievably handsome and had an animal magnetism about him. Whenever she saw him, a niggling whiff of desire would course through her, even when he rudely ignored her.

A month later, she was in the elevator when Anthony walked in while looking at his phone. It wasn't until the doors closed that he looked up and saw her.

"Morning, Anthony."

"Hmph," he snorted.

"Not going to say anything?"

"No. Why should I?"

"There you go. See, you can talk."

"Only if I have to when it comes to you."

"Alright," she said as she hit the pause button on the elevator. "We're going to hash this out right here, right now."

"Hey, you can't stop this elevator like that."

"No? Seems like I just did."

"But we'll get in trouble."

"Nah, it's not too busy and there are others in use. So, you're still pissed?"

"Well, yeah."

"What'd I do wrong? We had a basic disagreement, the higher-ups stepped in and the patient survived. Why are you acting like a three-year... uh, like you are? Embarrassed?"

"I guess. It hurts to be so wrong about something like this. And quit calling me a three-year-old."

"OK, maybe four. But look... you human?"

"Well, yeah."

"And you made a mistake."

"Yeah, and that's what sucks."

"To err is human..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but still..."

"OK, but why do you take this out on me?"

"I guess because every time I see you, it reminds me of what a fuckup I am."

"You. Are. Not. A. Fuckup. Got it? And even if you were, that's no reason to take it out on me. And I'm sure we'll have to work together again."

"Maybe after this rotation, we'll be in different hospitals."

"I'm at Mercy for the next four months and then four months at Women's and Children's."

"Oh, shit! That means we'll be running into each other for the rest of the year."

"Well, then you better get used to it. And, for your sake as well as mine, snap the fuck out of it. Treat me like a human, a nice human and one who you undoubtably will have to work with again."

"Here, let me at the stop button."

"Not until you promise."

"OK, OK. I promise."

"Say it with a smile, now."

"OK, Mom, this smile big enough for you?"

"It'll do," she replied with a slight grin as she let the elevator continue its journey.

'Maybe he's human after all,' she thought as she watched his tight ass walking away from her.

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"Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Mercy's November tumor board. For those new to this board, the purpose is simple. Any new case of a cancer diagnosed here is reviewed by our distinguished panel of experts and a consensus opinion is sent to the patient's primary provider. They can present this to the patient and make the appropriate specialty referrals. As you know, the treatment of cancer is rapidly evolving and we are able to help our colleagues make the right decisions. Questions?"

"Hearing none, I would like to ask Dr. Luebeck to present our first case."

"Oh, Hi," she started with a nervous tremor in her voice. These were some of the region's brightest cancer specialists and she didn't want to look incompetent. "Ah, Mr. P is a fifty-five-year-old male who presented to the clinic with complaints of palpitations and episodes of lightheadedness. On initial exam he was nervous appearing, kinda like I feel right now," she giggled before going on, "Had a resting heart rate of one-twenty and a blood pressure of two hundred over one-sixty. The rest of his exam was unremarkable. Blood and urine studies as well as a CT scan confirmed a suspected pheochromocytoma."

"Dr. Luebeck, what is the preferred treatment for this condition?"

"Surgical excision."

"Correct. Ah, Dr. Perri, you're a surgical resident, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"OK, let's say this gentleman was referred to you for surgery. Are there any additional studies you would need to see?"

"No, Sir."

"Straight to surgery?"

"Well, uh..."

"Any consults you would want to order?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Anyone else? Yes, Dr. Luebeck."

"He needs a consult with the anesthesiologist."

"Correct! The surgical aspect of this case is fairly straightforward. Get in there and cut the little bugger out. They rarely spread. But why an anesthesia consult, Dr. Luebeck?"

"Well, these people can have bad reactions to anesthesia, get severely hypertensive and even stroke."

"That is correct. The usual quick check by anesthesia prior to surgery simply won't do. Our colleagues need time to review the record in detail, plan for additional and special meds to be available in the OR and things like that. Is this patient already scheduled?"

"From what I heard he has an appointment tomorrow with our surgeon Dr. Wilson and with Dr. Himmelreich of anesthesia."

"Good. Our committee concurs with this plan. Uh, next case."

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That afternoon while she was on her way to the call rooms, Suzanne was approached by an angry-looking Anthony. "You just had to outshine me, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about? Tumor board?"

"Yes. I looked like an idiot there and you had to rub it in, didn't you?"

"Rub it in? Anthony, I had just read up on it the night before. I wasn't rubbing it in at all."

"Well, I couldn't read up on it since I was up all night on call."

"See there, it was simply an issue of timing. And Anthony?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to relax. We're all here to learn and become better docs. It's not a contest."

"Seems like most of our interactions are with you putting me down, though."

"I'm not putting you down. Geez, get a life," she muttered as she turned and walked down the hall.

After that last episode, Anthony treated her with thinly-veiled hostility. Any interaction between them consisted of him answering any questions with grunts or single-syllable responses. Despite her trying to ignore his attitude and always talking to him with a smile on her face, he would not change his behavior. By the end of their four months at Mercy Hospital, she had simply had enough. Late on the second to the last day of their rotation, she saw him enter the residents' lounge. After a sudden inspiration hit her, she hurried to the door and peeked in. Anthony was the only one in the lounge and appeared to be getting himself a coffee. She entered the lounge, secured the lock on the door and turned to him.

"Evening, Anthony," she said with as positive a voice as she could muster.

"What do you want?"

"Seems we need to talk."

"Oh, God. A guy knows to haul ass when a woman 'wants to talk'."

"We're not breaking up, if that's what this sounds like, 'cause we're not even together. But we need to work on our situation..."

"There's nothing to work on. You are an unmitigated, uh, well, you know and I don't need to work on anything."

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah."

"After two little episodes over eight months? And I never rubbed your face in it. Never. On the first time, the ER director made the call and on the other, I had time to review the cases and you couldn't because you were up all night."

"Still, I was wrong and..."

"So what? I've been wrong, too. And I've learned from it and gone on with my residency. There's gotta be something else going on here. What is it, Anthony? What's got your knickers in such a knot, anyway?"

"Nothing. Now let me outta here," he snarled as he pushed his way past her and left the room.

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Women's and Children's Hospital was not only an ob/gyn and pediatric hospital but it also had rehabilitation, psychiatry, urology, outpatient medicine and day surgery services. Suzanne figured most of her work would be doing consults for those services as well as working several hours a day in the outpatient clinic. She was hopeful it would not be as stressful as the previous rotations had been and looked forward to seeing patients in the clinic. Spring was in full bloom and she took advantage of the nicer weather to have lunch in the courtyard behind the cafeteria. Occasionally, Anthony would also have his lunch there but he never sat with her seemingly preferring to sit alone while staring at her. This did make her a little self-conscious but she refused to let it bother her. She would smile at him when the occasion rose though he rarely acknowledged her.

The hospital had a small emergency room which was nothing more than an urgent treatment center as the other two hospitals in the city had the larger and better-equipped ERs. Usually, it was kids with sniffles or women in premature labor who were seen there. When Suzanne heard a 'Code Blue -- Emergency Department,' meaning a cardiac arrest or other life-threatening event, she was jolted into action. After running down three flights of stairs and through the halls to the ER, she skidded to a stop where a crowd of nurses and staff had collected by the door of an exam room.

"Excuse me, let me through, please."

As they made room for her to slip through, she could see frowns and looks of concern on their faces. Once she got into the room, she saw Anthony working on a small girl of perhaps five or six years old. Blood was everywhere. Anthony was calling out orders for unmatched blood and demanded an emergency surgical tray.

"She's bleeding out! I need that blood STAT and get anesthesia in here. I'm going to open her up here."

"Doctor, we can't! We have to take her to the OR!"

"Dammit, can't you see she's only got a few minutes! She'll die on the stretcher before we get there. Now where is that effin' tray?" he yelled.

Chaos reigned and Suzanne could see the staff was reluctant to help. She ran to the cabinet, pulled out the requested tray and opened it on a table next to Anthony. "Can I help?"

"Yeah, glove up and help me. I'll need suction and retraction. She's comatose so we won't wait for anesthesia... OK? Here goes."

Suzanne watched in equal parts horror and awe as Anthony made an incision from the girl's breastbone to her pelvis. Once the belly was open, there was so much blood that no one could tell what was going on.

"What happened to her," she asked as she tried to suction and help Anthony.

"Asshole stepfather shot her, from what I hear. Try to suction over here. It might be her spleen."

Anthony eventually confirmed the spleen had been shot and was the source of the blood. Once he clamped the artery, the worst of the bleeding stopped. "What's her pressure?"

"Fifty over palp."

"Get me some more blood! And where the fuck is anesthesia?"

"On his way, Doctor. He was tied up in a case upstairs."

The anesthesiologist burst into the room, intubated her and began administering more fluids and meds. For a few minutes, it appeared the girl was stabilizing. Anthony had just announced they needed to get the girl to the OR to better deal with the surgical issues when the monitor showed a sudden flatline. Alarms went off and the anesthesiologist administered more medicines, fluids and blood as Anthony tried in vain to see if any new bleeding had started. Suzanne stood on a stool and began to administer CPR chest compressions.

For the next forty-five minutes, the three doctors along with numerous nurses and other personnel tried in vain to revive the little girl's heart. After it became apparent success was eluding them, Anthony looked over at Suzanne. She could see he was exhausted but was surprised to see tears pooling in his eyes and trailing down his cheek.

"Anthony..."

"She's not going to make it..."

"CPR for over thirty minutes is kinda long, even for a kid."

"I know, I know. Unless we can fix the underlying problem..."

"But we have no idea of any other injuries. I mean, the heart could have taken a fragment. Who knows?"

"Well, we can't crack her chest while CPR's being done. I'm gonna have to call it. God knows how much blood she's lost, she's still in flatline and there's gotta be more damage somewhere. It's hopeless. Fuck!"

"I agree, Anthony, but you're in charge."

"Listen up, everybody. I'm ready to call the code. If anybody objects or has any ideas about what we can do, let me know now."

No one said a thing. All eyes were downcast as the horrible truth sank in.

"OK, stop CPR. Time of death is three fifteen p. m. Thank you everyone for your help," he said as new tears fell down his face. "Uh, Suzanne, could you maybe tell the family for me? She looks a lot like my little sister who died of leukemia and I know I won't be able to keep it together."

"Sure. You go down to the call rooms and get yourself some new scrubs. See you down there."

The next ten minutes were the most difficult she had ever experienced. She was led to a small room where a petite woman holding an infant in her arms waited with a worried look on her face. Suzanne knew she must have looked awful with spattered blood all over her clothes but she approached the woman with as much calm and dignity as possible.

"Are you Cassie's mom?"

The woman nodded yes before asking in a faint voice, "Is she going to be OK?"

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry but she's, uh, Cassie is gone. We lost her. We tried everything possible and even operated on her but her heart couldn't take it."

Screeches of agony pierced the little room as the young woman reacted to the news. She slumped back onto the chair while still holding the infant in her arms. Suzanne squatted next to her and murmured words of sympathy and condolence. Even though she was covered with the blood of the woman's child, Suzanne reached over and gave her a comforting hug while starting to cry herself. As the two of them hugged and wept, the hospital chaplain knocked quietly on the doorframe.

"May I come in?"

"Yes, please. Mrs. Widdman has lost her daughter and..."

"I understand. Doctor, thank you for taking care of her and her child. I'll stay here with her."

"Thank you."

"Doctor?" said the mother.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for trying. I know God was looking over your shoulder and you did your best."

"You're welcome. I only wish we could have saved her."

Suzanne stumbled from the room and walked quickly through the ER and to the call rooms, suffering the stares of numerous staff and visitors who were horrified by all the blood on her clothes and her open weeping.

Right as she was entering her room in the call room suite, Anthony came out of his room with a new set of scrubs but still with a look of profound sorrow.

"God, Anthony, she was so cute, so young..." she cried as she ran to his arms.

"I know, I know. That was so ungodly painful..."

"You were great in there. She at least had a chance. I'm so proud of you."

"Didn't make it, though," he said as his tears again began to fall.

In the midst of her shock and sorrow, she realized his arms were comforting, super comforting. She hugged him tighter as she felt his arms tighten around her as well. And it was sooo good. So reassuring. And, and she also realized she was getting majorly turned on.

'No, this can't be,' she scolded herself right as she felt his erection pushing gently into her lower belly. 'He feels it, too!' her mind raced a few seconds before she turned up to him. He bent down to her, his lips nearing hers, and paused a few seconds before closing the gap. This was no gentle, teasing kiss. No, this was a demanding kiss, a kiss which poured out his soul to her.

She responded with equal passion as she reveled in the wonderful sensations his kiss brought to her. She broke away briefly, grabbed his hand and dragged him to her call room. The door was barely shut before their hands were pulling at each other's clothes. She grabbed his scrub top and yanked it over his head but before she could get to his pants, he unzipped her skirt and pulled it and her panties quickly to the floor. Without pausing to think about it, about them or about their situation, she yanked the string holding his pants loose and let them drop to the floor, revealing a rigid cock, a cock she desperately needed.

She nudged him closer to her bed, pushed him down and crawled on top. After rising on her haunches, two quick strokes of his cock between her lips were all she needed to be ready. With a satisfied groan, she impaled herself on him and began to fuck him. There had been no seduction, this was no lovemaking, this wasn't even sex. This was raw carnal lust trying to erase the horrible images of the afternoon. Yes, she realized, she was fucking him, fucking him while trying to rid herself of the demons from the ER, and fucking him to prove that, somehow, life must go on.

She thrust herself on him, driving her aching clit almost painfully onto his pubic bone, with each contact reminding her of her need, of her emotional turmoil and of her pain. And the more it hurt, the more she felt herself rising to the quickest orgasm of her life. Normally, Suzanne would need a long seduction, teasing and gentle touches to climax but in her darkened call room, she exploded in record time. Each wave of pleasure was accentuated by yet another thrust on him. And before she knew it, she collapsed down to him, exhausted and spent.

After a few seconds lying on him and listening to his heart, she found herself turned over in one fell swoop. With him now on top, he began to pound in and out, driving himself into her and crashing into her with his pubic bone, much like she had with him. She found herself rising again towards another orgasm, something she could have never imagined. Through half-closed eyes, she peeked at him only to see a man with tears on his cheeks and agony on his face, a man driving himself in an attempt to forget the horror of watching a cute, innocent, little girl die.

"Should I pull out?" he grunted.

"Don't you dare."

He continued to pound away and right as she hit her crest again, his thrusting became deeper and slightly irregular as he groaned in simultaneous release.

After a minute of slow, gentle thrusting, he pulled out and collapsed next to her on the small, call room bed. They kept their arms around each other and their faces millimeters apart. She was curious to feel him edging closer and even surprised when his lips gently caressed hers with a tender, almost loving kiss. She returned the kiss, a kiss of two lovers who are signaling their love for each other. Yes, he was handsome, but she wasn't in love with him! They had major issues with each other. And this had been a primal rutting of two wounded people trying to forget, trying to make sense of the horrible events of the day. But the kisses felt sooo wonderful.

After several minutes of soft kisses, he cleared his throat and whispered softly in her ear, "You're still a 'rhymes with rich'."

"And you're still an arrogant asshole surgeon."

"Hey," he chuckled, "I didn't use the B word so you can't use the A word."

"OK, you're still an arrogant glass bowl surgeon," she giggled.

"You're probably right. Uh," he paused before going on, "Would you be at all interested in having a drink with this arrogant glass bowl Friday evening?"

"You serious? After the way things have been between us?"

"We've had our differences, but I've always been attracted to you."

"You're shitting me!"

"Nope. And the invite is still on the table."

"Mmm, maybe I'd be interested. But don't think you'll get me in the sack right away. I don't believe in having sex on the first date," she laughed.

"Me neither. Look, we'd better get dressed. Who knows when we might get paged".

"Yeah, you're right. Hey, uh, Anthony, uh, thank you. I needed this."

"Me, too, Suzanne. I think we both did."

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Trionyx Spring 2025

Votes and comments are appreciated. Thank you.

Other stories of on-the-job sex involving medical residents can be found at Fat, Old Cow and The Call Room