I pushed through the staff... «Operation Boyfriend»
fus9 августа 2026I pushed through the staff entrance, suitcase trailing me like a guilty memory. The corridor was too bright—sterile floors, cold overhead light, a polished brass plaque that read transplant wing. Familiar smell of antiseptics. My locker was third from the end. I yanked it open, tugged off my hoodie, hands moving on instinct. Scrubs on. Clogs on. Cap over unwashed hair matted from the trip. Clip badge. Suitcase shoved into the call room down the hall. I pulled up the surgical notes on the hallway tablet: donor heart in transit, crossmatch confirmed. Brooke prepped, IV in. We’d start with anesthesia, then open once perfusion control cleared it. I’d likely run recipient side.
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