* * *
Later that day, Gabe rounded the corner and entered the surgical waiting room. Ignoring the quiet news broadcasting from the flat-screen TV and the groups of quietly chatting people and the elderly man reading a book in the corner, he quickly located Caroline Timons.
“Mrs. Timons?” Gabe lowered himself into the chair next to the plump, middle-aged blonde, and faced her. “Peter’s surgery went fine. I’m confident we removed the entire tumor. You should be aware that I did accidentally nick some healthy bowel. However, I inserted a couple of stitches and repaired it right away so there shouldn’t be any residual ill effects.
“He received prophylactic antibiotics during surgery, so I don’t anticipate any extra risk of complications from the additional sutures, but we’ll be watching him carefully for any post-op infection, just to be sure.
“Peter’s in the recovery room now. He’ll probably be there for...” Gabe looked at the wall clock. “Another hour or so before they move him up to his room. You can get his room number from the aid.” He nodded toward the volunteer at the desk. “Do you have any questions?”
“That’s great news.” She smiled softly. “Thank you so much, Dr. Harrison. Will he be in a lot of pain?”
“He shouldn’t be. They’ve given him something for the pain in the recovery room and I’ve written an order for pain meds. He should be comfortable. We’ve also inserted a tube down his nose into his stomach, to help prevent bloating, nausea, and vomiting, which we’ll remove in a day or so after normal bowel activity returns.”
“When will he be ready to go home?”
“About three or four days. Peter’s in pretty good shape, so it’ll probably be closer to three.” Gabe stood. “If you have any questions or concerns the nurses can’t answer, you have my office number, right?”
“Yes.” Caroline stood and gathered her purse and magazines. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.” Gabe whipped off his surgical cap as he strode down the hall, heading for the dressing room. He quickly showered and dressed.
With another couple, Gabe might worry about being sued for admitting making that slight mistake. Technically, he hadn’t had to tell them and chances were they’d never have known. His attorney would probably consider him a fool for admitting it, worrying the patient would be looking for any reason to pin a lawsuit on him, but Gabe felt they had the right to know, and he’d been pissed at himself for being so clumsy.
Gabe nodded to an acquaintance and held the door open for him as he made his way toward the parking lot. He wasn’t God. Mistakes happened, and as errors went, this one was really almost a non-event, but it still irritated him. Though he’d had a crappy morning at the clinic, he was usually good at compartmentalizing his feelings and not bringing a bad mood into the OR.
Gabe shoved the side door open, stepped onto the sidewalk, and headed for the doctor’s parking garage. Maple leaves liberally littered the asphalt, and there was a bite in the air. Gabe lifted his face to the fading evening light. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. He might actually get home early tonight.
Gabe fished the Samsung from his pocket as he entered the shady garage. His foot caught on some uneven concrete and he lunged forward. He bobbled the phone between his hands while struggling to regain his balance. The phone hit the cement face down. Crack!
Oh, no. No. No! Gabe bent and picked up the phone. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips. The way this day was going, there was no way he could luck out, was there? He turned the phone over in his palm. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Dozens of splintering cracks spider-webbed the screen. Crap.
Maybe he’d just cracked the glass. He swiped an index finger across the screen. Nothing. He depressed the power button on the side. Black.
“Come on,” he muttered. He tried the power again. “Oh, come on.” He turned the phone over, peeled it out of its case and removed the battery, then reinstalled it. Still dead. “Goddamnit.” He side-armed the phone against the concrete wall.
The thunk echoed loudly in the garage, but the Samsung didn’t spray into satisfying pieces. Gabe clenched his hands on his hips and glared at the useless cell lying on the concrete floor. Screw it. He blew out a deep breath, took a step toward his car, then pivoted and stalked over and picked up the dented cell. He’d need to try and transfer the data to a new phone.
Could this day get any worse?
Gabe closed his eyes and took a calming breath before approaching his car. He circled the station wagon expecting to find a flat tire, but it all looked good. He turned on the ignition—half a tank of gas. Seemed safe. Pulling away from the parking lot Gabe headed for the Verizon store. There went his early night, but he needed a damned phone.
He picked up the phone to call Jen to give her a heads-up he’d be late, glanced at the screen and threw it on the seat. It bounced off the seat, ricocheted off the door, and fell to the floor.
Careful you idiot. The way your day is going, you’re lucky it didn’t break the window.
As he drove down Harper, Gabe’s stomach growled loudly. He searched the console looking for a power bar. None. Of course.
He passed Canton Express. Chinese? They hadn’t had Chinese in a while. He pulled into the Verizon parking lot, relieved to find no wait. Of course not, everybody else was home eating dinner. Gabe got a sales representative right away, bought a new Samsung and then his luck ran out; it was going to take twenty minutes to transfer the data, if they could coax the old phone to life long enough to access the data.
Okay. Gabe walked down the strip mall into Canton Express, ordered hot and sour soup and a Three Ingredients special for himself, and General Tso’s Chicken for Jenny, then added an order of combo Lo Mein. Jen always liked Lo Mein. Hopefully she hadn’t made dinner yet. He considered asking to use the restaurant’s phone to make sure, but the smells made his mouth water.
Most nights, Jen didn’t count on him for dinner unless he called her to let her know he’d be home. He hadn’t called today. He checked his watch. Seven o’clock. He wouldn’t be home before seven-thirty at the earliest. Jen had probably eaten a salad.
It’d been years since he’d had this much bad luck in a single day. Thank God his kids were grown and out of his house. No diapers to change, baths to give, no homework to supervise or kids making demands of him. After this hellacious day, all Gabe wanted was a little Chinese food, to cuddle his wife, and an early bed. Was that too much to ask for?