Destiny Choi M.D.

@bl00dth1nnerz

PGY-6 Neurosurgery Fellow || The Pitt OC || 18+ || Local Caffeine addict || Consult with me at any time, I am happy to yap!

71 posts

Hello, My name is Destiny Choi! I am a PGY-6 Neurosurgery Fellow at PTMC. I transferred recently to start my fellowship and hope to not be in the ER too often.

I am 31 years old, she/her. I did my residency in general surgery.

People describe me as a rule follower, someone who sticks to the books and proper protocol. While I would love to say patients are satisfied with my care, 99% of the time, they meet me after the fact :,).

I'm crossed trained in pediatric neurology and pediatric neuro IR.

More about me:

-I have a cat named Malpractice, please do NOT ask why.

-I have a terrible addiction to caffeine.

-I tend to sound incredibly blunt/mean during our consults, promise I am not mean:-)

-Yes, we all (neuro) have terrible humor.

Physical details:

-> Doctor Choi stands at roughly 5'3". She is light complected, with dark eyes and obvious exhaustion that exists under her eyes. Despite her tired look, she often wears makeup, opting for a more youthful look. She enjoys shimmery makeup, especially! Her hair is dark, long, and silk; normally put up or in a scrub cap. She has a singular mole beneath her left eye.

-> #🧠: Dr.Choi's notes and thoughts

->#🍠: Ooc thoughts

->#🩹: Roleplay

Doctors Choi Surgical Playlist

OOC under the cut

#the pitt #the pitt oc #the pitt oc blog #the pitt rp #the pitt rp blog #neurology #neurosurgery #the pitt roleplay #the pitt roleplay blog #🧠

Doctor Choi stood outside of the large double doors, which separated the hospital from the surgical space, directly over the bright red ‘STERILE AREA’ line, which further isolated the cold surgical halls from the bustling hospital. Unlike what she's normally seen in, she is dressed in dark crimson, almost wine colored scrubs, her nice embellished neatly on her left breast.

Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun, a matching crimson bag at her side, likely consisting of her loupes and scrub caps. Despite her specialty and its ability to cover your face at all times, she wore light makeup, successfully making her look around the age of the young doctor approaching her. She seemed to light up, looking at the younger doctor's badge reel.

“You must be Doctor Santos,” she extends a cleanly manicured hand,” my name is Destiny Choi. Feel free to just call me Destiny. Oh-.”

She cut herself off, momentarily digging into her bag to pull out a clipboard, a few papers held neatly under the metal bar. “Here we are, the necessary release forms. You just need to sign and date..”

She handed the clipboard over, pulling a pen from an exterior pocket of her bag to hand to the young doctor.

“You mentioned wanting to jump into the cases, yeah? Today, we have a few scheduled, eight to be exact, six of which are craniotomies. The others are spine cases, those tend to be a bit difficult to watch in on because we're standing over the patient, but if you are able to stay long- by all means,” she paused to purse her lips, offering the younger a smile,” please do. It's a bit of a personal formality, but I also had planned a lunch mid way through the day for my team. You are welcome to come along.”

‐-------------------------------------------------

[ @trinsantos04 ]

Trinity looks at Dr. Choi slightly longer than she needs to, feeling oddly underdressed. Her hair is in a tight, mid length ponytail held up by a black rubber-band, sans the little tendrils of baby hair that jut in front of her ears and forehead; her outfit consists of navy scrubs, a gray long-sleeved undershirt with a band logo on it (she hates the scrubs’ texture to much to go without one, but her more professional undershirts have yet to be washed), her well-loved white sneakers, and some plain stud earrings; her makeup is nonexistent at this point, being just light eyeliner after the sweat of her previous shift removed just about all her foundation and most of her blush. Normally, she’d fit right into the ER, but something about the surgeons of the PTMC whisper “elegant” even under pressure, something Trinity isn’t sure she’d ever be able to compare to.

Trinity, slightly off kilter, takes the pen (PTMC’s best ballpoint, as per the dark logo) and the clipboard, skimming it lightly and signing off on a few perfunctory lines before taking Dr. Choi’s hand in her own non-manicured one (she’d get a manicure if she wasn’t such a nail-biter, but why waste the money otherwise?) for a stronger-than-what-is-probably-necessary handshake.

“Yes, I’d love to join a case! As many as possible, really. Sleep is for the weak,” she jokes lightly, realizing she should probably have more decorum. Nerves always makes her cocky as an overcorrection, and today is no different.

She blinks at the prospect of a lunch break, nonplussed but not unhappy at the idea.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll come to lunch. Didn’t realize you guys had scheduled breaks like that. Come to think of it, Pedes does too, so maybe the ER is just special.”

With that introduction, Trinity put her hands in her pockets, awaiting further instruction. She can’t say she’s been in the surgery hallways more than twice or thrice (courtesy of some impromptu teaching by Walsh, Garcia, or Shamsi) so she’s unfamiliar with the navigation of it all.

Doctor Choi stiffles out a small laugh at the prospect, gently patting the younger's shoulder with a polite disagreement," sleep in important, the days are long up here, but I know its just as equal down under."

She paused before thinking of an answer," Most specialties do mandate a lunch break. You guys tend to be every which way constantly. That's probably why. Now- normally, we don't go out for lunch, but today is my scrub techs birthday, so it's a special occasion, I'm paying."

Turning sharply on her heels, she faces a large ScrubX machine, inputting some digits to dispense scrubs; then facing the younger doc.

"Your scrub size? We have to wear surgical scrubs here for obvious reasons," she hummed, soon dispensing the scrubs of the younger and handing her the bundle.

"Follow me," she continued, walking close to a door promptly labeled: female locker room. After putting in more random codes, buzzing them in. The locker room was as expected, rows of small grey lockers that lined the floor and walls, disrupted by a small bench and a curtain.

"Feel free to change in here. Beyond the curtain is a few bathroom stalls, if that makes you a little more comfortable. Warning, I would keep on your underscrubs beneath these surgical ones. It gets very out there," she hummed, opening her locker. Long lashes trained downwards as she placed her bag into the small space.

Then, looking up to the younger, still crouched and smiling, "You can leave the clipboard on the bench. We will turn in the forms whenever we are dressed."

Trinity nods lightly, “well Happy Birthday to them.”

Trinity always goes a size up in her scrubs, despite regulations, because any other size would have her squirming all shift in discomfort (probably leading to one of the annoying breakdowns she has at her place sometimes) Luckily for her, Dr. Choi doesn’t question her motioning for a Large rather than a Medium.

She lightly huffs at the warning, a small smile playing at her face. “Aye aye, cap’n,” Trinity mumbles before leaving the clipboard on one of the midline seats of the locker room and making a beeline to a stall.

(Dr. Choi isn’t going to know about anything on Trinitys first day. She has a chance to make her impression as someone sane, ready. She’s not gonna mess it up. So, stall it is.)

Trinity emerges from the bathroom stall wearing light blue scrubs instead of the normal dark-navy, though her undershirt still lies beneath it as a precaution. With a sarcastic salute, flat hand grazing her own forehead, she remarks, “Ready for duty, Dr. Choi!”

The elder looks over to the younger doctor with a small laugh, humored by her salute, now appropriately dressed. Her crimson scrubs were replaced by the same hospital scrubs, slightly too long, as per her cuffed scrub pants. Her hair, which was in an organized, now tucked into a scrub cap decorated with small felines.

Doctor Choi opened her locker further for the younger to place her belongings in with her own, "feel free to grab a scrub cap, I washed them all yesterday." Watching the younger females stare for a moment longer, she placed herself down on bench, slowly applying surgical shoe covers over her pristine white shoes. Waiting a moment longer, she stood stretching slowly, "No need for your stethoscope back there. The anesthesiologist handles the patients' vitals and whatnot."

After the other's belongings were put away, she bent to her level, closing her locker. "The code is seven, five, six, four, three, two," she looked to the younger doctor with a soft smile," if in the case you need to leave."

She stood, brushing her knees off before grabbing the clipboard that was rested nearby, tucking it under her axilla; heading to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, the same choreography she practiced every day.

"When we are in the surgical space, feel free to ask questions, even the silly ones," she opened the heavy door which kept the locker room seperated from the breakroom," after you, Doctor Santos."

Trinity puts on a scrub cap, feeling a little bit like an egg in the process, as she tries to remember the code.

7…6, 4? 5, 2? This totally won’t bite me later, she remarks in her head.

Feeling a little wounded, she puts her stethoscope in the locker next. It’s a nice pressure on her neck, an even nicer fidget, so it’ll be a little uncomfortable to not have it around, but she’s too excited about the upcoming surgery to really care.

“Okay, so you’ve mentioned an anesthesiologist and a scrub tech so far. No stupid questions right? So, who’s everyone on the team and what are their roles?”

Trinity let’s put a breath as she leaves the locker room. Hopefully, she doesn’t fuck this all up before she’s even begun.

The elder hummed in response," Jamie is out Scrub tech, he does as any scrub tech does, hands me what I need and actively assists when necessary. Suctioning and whatnot. Normally, my anesthesiologist is Doctor Sighn, but that's subject to change - she's on maternity leave. My nurse circulator, Laura, does a load during my cases: documents the case, corrects charges, gets supplies when necessary, etcetera." Exiting the breakroom, she stops by a table, clumsily taking a papertowel to a muffin then handing it over to the younger."

"There is a team of neurophysiologists who run EEGs during cases,they're normally contacted by the hospital. Thus, I'm not sure who will be here today. Normally, Gloria and Ben take my cases, but of course, that isn't always guaranteed," she hums, grabbing her own muffin and snacking despite just washing her hands.

"And imaging, we normally have someone from Radiology in a room at all times, especially during our reconstructive cases or spinals," she explained further," or if we need hardware places, especially in those cases. Again, no guaranteed names."

Soon after finishing her impromptu breakfast, she washed her hands in a sink nearby, drying them with papertowels. Walking to the door and placing her back flushed to the wood, she opened the door, allowing the younger doctor through.

The surgical atmosphere was strange in its own regard, so still but at the same time chaotic. People likely scrub techs, pushing large metal boxes around. Large machines lined the halls, some recognizable, C-arms... others not so much. The surgeon slowly removed herself from the door, gesturing the younger doctor forward.

"First things first, submitting your sheets, then we can head to the first case," she hummed, "oh- one other thing, you aren't pregnant or concerned for pregnancy... there's a lot of radiation involved at times. We do protect ourselves with lead vests, but it is something my boss encouraged me to ask."

Trinity listens with rapt attention, taking only 1 or 2 bites meager of the muffin before throwing it out to wash her hands. Jamie, Sighn, Laura, Gloria, Ben. Names to remember.

…she’ll eat later, she tells herself.

One thing Trinity notices is how much more clinical the environment is. Much less screaming, shouting, and general chaos than the ER or even Pedes. Well, that’s to be expected when all your patients are drugged or asleep.

The pregnancy questions throws her for a loop. “I- no, I’m gay,” Trinity says before she can stop herself. “I’m not looking for a baby any time soon,” she tries again with a little more tact.

Feeling heat rise to her face, she asks, “Where am I submitting these? Is there a formal meeting like in Pedes?”

The surgeon only nodded with a polite smile to the other's admission, "No shame in that." She then shakes her head, removing the clipboard from her axilla, leading the younger physician to the nurses station. With a gentle hand, she pulled a pen from a nearby cup, signing off on the document before releasing the paper from its binds, then placing it in a filing cabinet nearby.

"No formal meeting for us, fortunately enough, us surgeons normally just sorta show up whenever we are needed. We are responsible for going over our cases the day of or prior to the case scheduled time," she hummed, looking over to two large screens: the patients name and MRN, the time of the case, the details of the case, as well as extra supplies listed. She read over the blocks in the chart, walking forward to tap the screen, specifically on a light pink block," This will be our first case. No worries, the nurse goes over all of this whenever we are in the room. "

She took a retreating step to fish out surgical boot covers from a nearby wire shelf, handing Santos a pair before applying her own over shoes (which were already covered). Then retreaving two surgical bouffants caps to place over their scrub caps, only laughing to herself with an appropriate, "These always make me feel like a lunch lady."

Then, I took a quick moment to double-check herself, and then the other, she nodded," Are you ready, Doctor Santos?"

She takes in the information mostly silently, a series of nods indicating she’s paying attention. She chuckles though, at the description of the covers, before putting on her own.

“Feels very ‘Dexter’ to me. Am I gonna find your patient tied to the table with ceran wrap?”

Trinity assesses herself, carding away the beginnings of a headache as she pulls a small strand of hair behind her ear. Finally, she bobs her head once in agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

"Tied to the table, yes sorta, but ceran wrap is a stretch... normally it patient straps," she jokes in return. Leading the other forward and down a long hall.

"My first case today is an endoscopic assisted pituitary mass resection, so unfortunately, not too much to do on your behalf, but it should take less than an hour. The next case is a subdural hematoma resection, far more fun. But first thing's first, as always, handwashing," she instructed, leading the doctor to a handwash station.

Her moves were choreographed, practiced over many years of training and scrubbing into surgery, washing her hands up to her elbows, and gesturing for the other to do the same. The water was cold, freezing almost, against her pale skin.

After she was finished, instead of drying her hands, she placed her back against a small-windowed door; pushing it open for the other into a small vacuumed sealed room. Then, once again, into the surgical room.

The room itself was large, about the size of two trauma bays, but occupied with large machines. The anesthesiologist, covered by a surgical drape nearby, is accompanied by two large machines used to maintain homeostasis. Behind the machines, an even larger one, its wires tangled on the floor; a large screen with handles dangling off the top. Large-silver shelves lined two walls, filled to the brim with supplies, surgical tables draped appropriately with each and every tool placed near the patients bed, a tall male standing between them and the patient. A C-arm was placed against the wall near the main entrance of the room, which they hadn't entered from. The circulator sitting nearby, likely documenting the enterance of the surgeon. Lastly, a table that was not occupied, which held surgical gowns, and some gloves.

Doctor Choi promptly cleared her throat, grabbing two masks before handing Doctor Santos one. Applying it before breaking past more red lines, which she failed to mention to the other. "Good morning, team. I wanted to introduce everyone to our surprise guest. This is Doctor Santos from the ED. She will be following us today during our cases."

Trinity washed her hands up to her elbows an followed, a little duckish, to the room.

Perking up at the mention of something more hands on, she says, “Sick! I mean, it’s sad, but also… sick!”

As she entered the room, she tried not to gawk at all the supplies, making sure to not touch anything as she scoots past the entryway and lets the door close.

“Hi,” she says with a little wave and a slightly impatient face, eager to see how everything works as she puts her mask on, “thank you so much for letting me shadow.”

She watches as Choi gloves up, almost enamored at the smooth workings of the OR. They’re like a well oiled machine, and she’s a brand new cog with no grease to her name.

Under the harsh, bright lights, her eyes wide with curiosity squint a little, pupils miosing to pinpricks. Her heart thrums in excitement.

“Where should I be standing, Doctor? So I don’t get in your way.”

With the help of the scrub tech, the scrub gown was applied to Choi's front, she took a few strides over to the doctor whilst talking," for the time being, I'm going to have you in a corner so we can get everything situated, after then I will move you a little closer so you can have a better view of the scape. Can you, very carefully, help me with the velcro of my gown- the neck?"

After the slightly trembling hands of the other closed the neckline of the gown, she then hands her the card connected to the gown," Hold steadily, don't let it go now." Her voice was soft, instructing her with practiced patience, which likely came with years of experience. She, after the doctor grasped the tag, made a full 180° turn, pulling the fabric free from the tag and tying it with ease.

"Very good," she encouraged, then having the scrub tech help her glove up, finally walking towards the patient and standing near the draped woman's head before the nurse took a stand.

Laura, the nurse, paused for one moment, the patient lying draped in the surgical clamps, head hanging off the bed- and focused upwards, intubated appropriately. Laura took a moment, clicking slowly at the keyboard of the small monitor tucked in the corner of the room near the entrance, promptly calling the time out. Doctor Choi focused on her nurse, alongside the techs who all looked to the elder, who began to speak over the low hum of the many machines that surrounded the surgical field.

“Time out called at 10: 15. This is forty five year old Marrisa McAllister, who presented to the emergency department at approximately seven hundred this morning with a complaint of sudden-acute photophobia which occurred forty five minutes before initial presentation to the emergency department. Per resident doctor, who documents the physical examination,’ patient exam displays significant difficulties reading, with an visual acuity score rapidly decreasing across the span of the visit, leading to sudden visual loss of bilateral eyes at approximately 0715. Patients in clear distress and notes irregularities with at home HCG testing despite a medical history of hysterectomy. HCG quantitative displays a clear result of 28,000 as ordered by the attending physician. The patient also reports of galactorrhea, that began approximately a week prior. The patient initially believed to be in response to new contraceptives, which she began about three weeks prior to her visit. CT head with and without contrast were ordered, with findings of a seemingly malignant mass-like growth to the pituitary glands. MRI, appropriately ordered by Doctor Choi, displayed similar findings. Patient NPO since 2100 last night. Documented past medical history of: hypertension, hyperlipidemia, thyroid disorder of unspecified origins, and hysterectomy. No other documented history relevant to today's case. No religious stipulations were noted in her chart.”

Doctor Choi nodded, subtly adjusting the head clamps to face the nose upwards even further, using a small stool to roll around for better visualization. Her sterile gloves, double-gloved to prevent any breakage, adjusted the endoscope which was handed to her by the scrub tech on the other side of the patient. The surgeon took a moment, pausing to look towards the doctor who was awkwardly placed in the corner, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Don't break the sterile field, come around here next to me,” she instructed, speaking over the music that occupied the room's space,” so you can see the screen here.”

After shakily helping her senior with the gown and focusing on the patient history, Trinity moved - carefully - to where she was directed and found herself nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. Choi as she turned to look at the screen. She couldn’t see anything but regular skin for now, but that would change soon enough.

“So… how do you handle this? What’s the procedure?”

She can’t say that she knows much about any procedure that happened around here, but the ER required her to be well-rounded so she understood most everything she said except for any plans of fixing the matter. She felt out of her depth, but not unwelcome, just deeply curious.

Whatever the procedure may be, it seemingly must be done quickly, because everyone started up on their jobs before Trinitys question was answered. Orders muttered, tools transferring hands as she can only watch in benign confusion. She stares at the screen then to Choi’s face, then to the patient, then back to the screen in a precipitous motion, gleaning about as much as she could without further instruction.

It seems minimally invasive, by her eyes, but something must’ve gone wrong because she suddenly heard the voices go a little bit tenser, screen filling with blood.

Trinity stays quiet. The patient matters more than her education in this moment.

Without much noticeable concern from the elder, speaking softly whilst simultaneously directing the practically microscopic tools within the cranial space of the patient. Her eyes trained onto the screen, a brief moment of burning tissues, the bleeding coming to a halt.

"To answer your question," Choi started," in Transsphenoid surgery, we either use a microscope or endoscope. In this case, I opted to use the endoscope and a curette to extract the mass like structure on this patients pituitary gland."

Choi briefly looks over her shoulder to the doc, offering a small smile (as seen by her eyes over the mask and between the loupes.) She continued, looking to the screen, grasping hold of the mass successfully without much force- and was successfully able to remove it.

"As far as how I handle it personally, I know this job in particular, with the brain- is highly intimidating..," she trails on," I trained for many years, know the ins-and-outs, I recognize the possible injury which can occur. A big part of my job.." She pauses, pulling the tiny tools from the nasal canal, holding up the small mass to show the doctor before her.

"A big part of my job is recognizing that, no matter the outcome, simply having the courage to appear daily... is the hardest part. We change lives, regardless of specialities. But sometimes, it's okay to be scared, uncertain of the outcome. But have there not be individuals like us, there would be no solution for the souls who lack the knowledge of. "

Across the table, Jamie snickered, rolling his eyes ever slightly before shaking his head. Doctor Choi giving these philosophical speeches wasn't out of the ordinary it seemed.

Trinity stared, enraptured, at the globule in front of her.

“Makes sense,” Trinity mutters, still staring as her tightened shoulders relax some.

She snorts, “Gonna put that on a poster, Doc?”

She watched as the case slowly finished up, taking mental notes on the procedure and carding them for later. She knows she’ll be staying awake until her next shift researching the hell out of what she just saw.

As the patient gets moved to the next room, Trinity takes notice of the collective, soft sighs emerging from the surgeons. She gets it; she’s tired and she wasn’t even the one performing the surgery.

Still, the experience left her oddly invigorated. She also feels weirdly comforted. Robby would’ve never given a speech like that (anymore) and neither would Abbot. Al-hashimi maybe, if she was more acclimated to the Pitt.

“You give pep-talks often?”

Jamie cut in momentarily with a sarcastic snort," only every day." His face, hidden beneath the sterile mask, followed the patient. Doctor Choi only gave a response.

"In this specialty, you most literally crack open people, play inside of them. You are tasked with something both delicate and morbid in its own regard. It's important to keep good team morale," she strips off her gloves with a practiced pinch and role," otherwise you can easily fall into psychosis."

She pauses, using her naked hands to strip off the gown, then her mask. Her nose bridge was slightly reddened due to the pressure of the mask, soft freckles ever so slightly seen under the surgical lights, "we are all human in the end, and are not immune to the consequences of what we do. Santos, you and I alike, all health professionals, are the minority of people who can handle these things. Our health and mental health, especially, are important."

The surgeon took a lazy step forward, using the same manicured hand on the others back, lightly leading her out of the room as the staff began to clean up.

"Nothing too bad so far, any other questions, if not- we can stop by pre-op and visit with our next patient."

Trinity’s eyebrows furrow, “Psychosis? Really? I’ve never heard of a doctor going into psychosis because of work.”

The mental health conversation made her huff a little. The OR really is different from the ER, a significant amount. Down there, there’s no caring how “sane” you are when you have to get the patient stable. Up heart is stressful in its own way, but there’s room to breathe.

Still, something about this is much more… vulnerable. Seeing people’s organs and internals so clinically, purposefully, feels like a new naked.

Resisting the urge to rub her reddened nose bridge, Trinity nods.

“I can see how they would, though.”

Trinity finds herself zoning out, staring at the freckles of her seniors face. She feels oddly fuzzy. She doesn’t know why even, since she didn’t do anything in there, she just watched.

She blinks, almost languidly, and mumbles, “No questions. Let’s go to pre-op.”

"It does happen. Our job is often described as grotesque like autopsy or murder, more so when you spend hours inside of someone and they end up passing regardless. Our brain, in combination with societal norms, often convinces us of simply false things," she explains, gesturing for the younger doctor to follow.

She hit a silver button on the wall after a few long moments of adventure, opening up to a set of rooms, somewhat like the patient rooms of the ED- but seemed to lack the intense amount of chos the ED was popular for. There were at least thirty or so rooms, some occupied by patients, others not. Nurses weren't rushing around. Instead, they do their tasks at comfortable speeds.

Turning a corner, Choi faced towards the nurses station. There sat an older lady, out of date beehive on top her head, red frames barely hanging off her slightly hooked nose. "Samantha," Choi nearly sang to the nurse, who offered a small gruff before sarcastic singing back a," Choi."

"Where is my next patient," the surgeon began," Mr. Wang?"

Her lashed eyes grazed over the board posterior to the lady, narrowing over the patient's names before the lady spoke, red lips pursed in a near snarl," he is in room 16. Not in a great mood."

Choi offered a side ways smile, nearly a smirk," well, if I had a giant blood clot in my skull paired with the worst headache on the planet... I would be pretty peeved, too."

The prospect of losing yourself over a job makes Trinity shutter. She tries not to think about it much longer, shaking her head like it would get rid of her thoughts, like her brain was an etch-a-sketch.

The rooms were almost calming, the white noise of moving carts and varied talking lulling her somewhat. This shift has been so different from the ER, and yet it’s left her feeling just as much tension in her shoulders. She shakes that off too.

Trinity smirks at the conversation, Samantha loosely reminding her of Dana in temperament.

She catches up a few seconds later when she hears blood clot in the skull.

“Oh shit, that’s serious. Like- serious serious. I’m still getting on this right?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet in some combination of nerves and anticipation.

Despite her ranging moods, Dr. Choi remained her same level of light yet serious. Trinity thinks, loosely, that Choi should look into being an attending herself. She has the mien.

"Absolutely Doctor Santos, this is a wonderful learning experience," Choi hummed to herself, patting the younger physician's shoulder with a gentle hand.

"I've met with Mr.Wang before, admittedly outside of the hospital. I'm not sure he remembers me, had a thing with his son a while back," she explains with an eased expression," but he was a nice man."

She lightly knocks on the door, its label '16' dark and bold. With a gruff, she opens the door. In the bed, an elderly man, not too pleased as Samatha had mentioned.

"Good morning Mr.Wang, my name is Doctor Choi, I will be your surgeon today," she spoke, gesturing to the younger doctor who observed," and this is my boss." Her tone held banter, an obvious joke.

"All jokes aside, we will be the ones working on you today. How are you feeling?"

The old man eyes the pair, narrowing his eyes before replying a gruff," my head hurts," in some foreign language. The surgeon nods before gesturing to the younger physician once more," have any questions for him, Doctor Santos?"

Trinity subconsciously leaned into the touch before pulling away.

Meeting Mr. Wang was… interesting. He was gruff and old and angry but didn’t set off the usual signals Trinity felt around men. It made her feel weirdly more responsible then she’d normally feel for a patient like him, like he was one of the only good men around so she had to help keep him around. Being called the boss, she sarcastically jingles the information tag clip on her pants.

Trinity knew a few languages herself (English, Tagolog, Illongo, Wikang Filipino, some Spanish and a lot of ASL so that way Harlow would never happen again) but she couldn’t tell what the man was saying.

Biting her lip, Trinity offered a “Hello, I’m gonna try to make that head pain go away. Do you have any history of previous head injury? Are you taking any medications? Any medical conditions we don’t know about?”

She then turns to Dr. Choi, “What language is he speaking exactly?”

Choi let out something between a chuckle and sigh before answering, "he is speaking Mandarin, their family spoke a specific dialect, but that I am not sure of."

Her answer was honest, her own thin eyebrows furrowed as the man seemed to think his answer over, a thin finger tapping his wrinkled chin. Right as he seemed to think of something, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing important," he answers, his accent heavy, earning a sharp eye from the surgeon.

With a singular beat, he opened up, even slightly-shoulders sagging before he finally answered, " I fell a while back... fell asleep after."

Choi nodded once, then twice over, asking the elder if she could see his bag. The elder handed over the bag easily, allowing the doctor to fish out his medications, sealed away in a plastic bag. Pulling the bag open with a few satisfying pops, she hummed to herself," blood pressure medications, and uhm- aha, here."

Lifting a small bottle, its innards nearly depleted," he is taking Plavix." She turned to face the man once more," why do you take blood thinners, Mr.Wang?"

The older man seemed to scowl ever slightly before answering with an annoyed tone," my doctor told me to."

Choi furrowed her brow once more, tapping her badge against a nearby computer, looking over his documents.

"Aha, I see here, you were admitting for a coronary artery bypass graft not long ago. Was Doctor Damaraju your surgeon?"

The male only nodded in response, seemingly annoyed by the mention of the surgeon.

"Okay Mr.Wang, Doctor Santos and I are going to do our own little examination before pre-op gets your prepped, is that okay?"

A beat, followed by the elders nod.

"M'kay," the doctor takes a seat nearby on a stool," does your head hurt, Mr.Wang?" Another beat, followed by the elders sigh.

"Nausea or Vomiting?"

"Both."

"Any seizure like activity listed in his chart, Santos?"

The doctor turns her head over her shoulder to face the younger doctor, the warm lights of the patient rooms highlighting her tall nose bridge, her head slightly tilted.

Trinity looks through his chart, papers ruffling. After a moment, her hand flattens and shakes in a so-so gesture.

“No epilepsy, but it seems like he’s had a fall in the past that gave him a seizure. Concussion. This could be related to second impact syndrome?” she ended with a shrug.

Trinity, at the nod of Dr. Choi, asks a few more questions and performs a few small, on-sight tests. About to ask her senior what she thinks of the symptoms, Mr. Wang’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Trinity barely catches him before he falls, setting his limp body down as it starts twitching like the beginning of convulsion. She moves from him then, pushing back the gurney he was previously sitting on, along with the rooms 2 plastic chairs and 1 rolling chair.

“Time elapsed, 10 seconds,” she mutters, doing her best to mentally track the seizures timespan.

The surgeon, taken aback by the sudden situation, bends to the patients level and calls out to him. Retracting her pen light to check for pupilary reactiveness immediately. Looking to the younger doctor, she simply commands, "go get Samantha for me, Santos, please."

With a quick, one-two motion, she taps the shoulder of the man the moment he stops seizing. "Mr.Wang," she can hear in the distance, the nurses approaching with hurried steps from outside the room.

She shakes the man once more, her calm face a complete opposite of the scenario," when did you last take your blood thinners?"

The male groggily slurrs, earning the surgeon's pained expression,"four lorazepam, load one point five levetiracetam, prep DDAVP zero point three micrograms, and platelets. I would like a stat repeat CT, then have him intubated."

The surgeon, alongside the nurses, helped the man back into his gurney; the nurses taking over by the doctors commands.

"Santos," the elder doctor gestured towards the door, soon following her out.

"10 seconds, did you catch the time," she sighs out with a little laugh.

Trinity scampers off, returning back with Samantha in toe and quickly responding.

“I was there for about 15 seconds and came back…” Trinity looked at the clock on the wall, squinting. She could never read them right, but this was important. She made her best guess. “Uh- 2 minutes later? So about 2 minutes and 20 seconds if we account for extra time.”

Trinity looks a little pale. “Are- are we still operating or…? Was that seizure CVA? Is he having a stroke?”

"What we are going to do," she starts, taking a few long strides out of the room and over to a nearby work station and logging in," is send him to repeat imaging. With the medications, he should be stable for the time being. The hematoma is likely causing the intracranial pressure to increase, thus the stroke-like-symptoms and or seizures. My concern is, with the hematoma's placement, his slurred speech isn't the precursor to aphasia."

She explains, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her eye, sitting down on the stool and typing away-likely placing orders.

She pauses, looking up at Santos for a split moment, the sterile lights highlighting the obvious concern of the younger doctor. Her lips, plump with a few obvious bite marks-subconsciously placed, curled into a small smile before she spoke.

"Good work, Doctor Santos. You acted very quickly," her eyes etched to the screen once more, pointer finger tapping away at the mouse.

Now, out of the room, where the space was open,the energy seemed to diffuse slowly. Choi's shoulders slowly sagged as she released a slow breath, "Lord, I need a coffee."

The older female digs for a few moments in her bag before placing thick-black frames on her face, blinking away, then facing the younger. "What do you say, boss, want to go for a coffee?"

Santos blushed lightly at the compliment, not used to recieving such. Instictively going to curl at her stethoscope and realizing it’s not there, she’s left wringing her hands around nothing.

“Are you sure we can leave this gu- You know what? Sure. Yeah. Coffee’s good.”

She shakes her head lightly with a small huff.

“We both know you’re the boss here.”

Thinking about it for much longer makes her snort.

“You know, this has been the weirdest thing to happen to me so far, and there’s not even malpractice involved! I could stay here a while!” Trinity is, a little unfortunately, only half joking.

The older chuckled in response, "the patient will take a second to get to radiology, get his scans, radiology sometimes takes their time regardless."

The elder offered a small shrug, signing off the computer with a click," I do suppose, you guys downstairs never get the time to even touch the café on the third floor?"

She pushes her frames up subconsciously, standing up with a long stretch, yawning softly as doing so.

"Back in my day, the ER had an actual break area for students and interns, had a mandatory break for everyone," she hummed, "of course I was never down there then, but they all seemed a little happier."

With a soft yet firm hand to the others back she grinned," I'll take you to the café, don't worry about the cost, the hospital actually covers the physician's purchases... if you didn't know that already."

Trinity was honestly a little confounded. Not only had she never been to the cafe on the third floor, she didn’t know there WAS one. The only thing she knew about was the patient and loved ones cafeteria, which she doesn’t usually go into unless she can tell Whitaker’s hungry, since whenever a doctor goes in there they get swarmed with “Is he okay?” or “Will she make it?” or “I love them!” or “He’s just a kid” or “How much longer will this fucking take?!” or—

You get the idea.

“Nope. Never been,” she eventually settles on. Neuro is much more cushy than she thought it would be. Then again, it’s also terrifying. She’s heard stories of 24 hour or longer surgeries, on your feet with no breaks until the patient was cured because good shit takes time or something.

Trinity found herself surprised again. “Seriously?! You’re kidding, how did they ever stabilize patients with mandatory breaks? Must’ve been hella slow or hella staffed for that…”

Finally, she nods. Not that she was hungry, but it was a lovely thought. Trinity lived in the spaces between bouts of nausea, headaches, chills, and fainting spells. Never hunger or thirst, really, unless it got too bad. Still, she didn’t want to stress out the older woman, so a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody.

"They used to have a 'stacked' schedule, so one set of students and doctors would leave and the others would cover, and so forth. So some would break midway through the shifts for thirty to forty-five minutes, while another set would cover, and they would trade off," she explained, leading the younger through a set of double doors and eventually to a staff elevator.

Once the door closed, her nimble fingers pressed the button to the third floor subconsciously, looking to the younger as if to read her.

"Santos, may I offer a bit of advice?" She started, awaiting her answer with a bit of hidden anxiety.

"Nothing bad, I promise," she follows up, as if she noticed how seriously she sounded. The only sound filling up the seconds worth of space being the 'kick' sensation of the elevator followed by its comforting hum.

"I was in your shoes-or similar ones, not long ago. And I-," for once she almost seemed anxious.

"I think, you have the capabilities of being a wonderful physician. You are young, impressionable, and so hungry to learn. I've noticed how closely you watch," her voice was slightly rushed, the elevator stalling for a moment before the doors slowly opened.

"I think, Doctor Santos, you should allow yourself a bit more space. Take up more space with confidence, if you catch my drift," she laughs almost awkwardly before muttering something regarding how cheesy she sounds.

Allowing the younger to take the first step out, following suit," It's sappy. It is, but please assure your name is known. We have a saying, us korean folk."

She pauses, taking a step forward and linking a friendly arm with the younger before speaking, her words curled around her tongue-foreign and warm.

"오늘 걷지 않으면 내일 뛰어야 한다 " she speaks with a certain sing-song tone she used once or twice before.

"It means,' If you don't walk today, you must run tomorrow,' just- effort and confidence, take initiative, take up space, Trinity," her words were warm, much like the many tones of her mentors.

Trinity furrowed her brows before she started laughing. “Wow, this is the first time someone’s told me to be more confident! Usually it’s all, ‘Dial it down, Santos’” she says, lowering her voice in a facsimile of some coworker.

She hopes that the humor would stop the blush of being complimented - cared for, in any way, really - by Dr. Choi, but it didn’t.

Noticing a tense silence in her wake made her realize she’d actually have to take the advice seriously, that her normal coping mechanisms of humor and deflection wouldn’t work.

“Thank you, really, you-you’re really kind. I’m fine though, okay?”

Trinity unconsciously starts giggling again. “Jamie was right, this is your second inspirational speech today! You really do make a lot of them”

The surgeon's face drops only for a split moment, looking with the younger woman with an unreadable expression, eyes drawing a thin line between hers before she paused. Her arm unraveled before placing either hands on the other shoulder, hands equal part warm and chilled, likely the atmosphere. She held her there for a moment.

Her eyes held the woman for only a moment longer before she clicked her lips, a makeshift tsk between her lips before she spoke," you must promise me."

She starts, stoic expression lightening as she pulls her left hand away from the shoulder of the younger girl, extending a pinky finger towards the other.

"I may be old and partly senile," she jokes playfully, "but I do mean every word. You have great potential, don't doubt yourself."

Her laugh soon lit the hallway, using her right hand to cup the others' hand the moment their pinkies lace, wrapping their connected hands with the chill blanket of her hand.

"You mustn't forget this moment. Memory is a hard thing to regain, you'know?"

The contact made Trinity tense at first, but she slowly settled into feeling warmth at the gesture. She hasn’t been touched kindly in so long, hasn’t let anybody for fear of it becoming less-than-kind.

Trinity blinked, something in her heart that was once empty filling. Maybe it was support, or hope? Either way, it was enough of a feeling to make her say, eyes wide:

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

A beat goes by.

“Genuinely, thank you.”

They make their way to the café after that, and Trinity doesn’t feel hungry but she doesn’t feel nauseous either, which is how she ends up sat in a somewhat cozy, somewhat chilly corner of the space across from her senior, sipping on a chocolate milk and eating a banana with some saltines; she’d normally opt for a redbull with a snickers but something about the soft atmosphere made her feel like she didn’t need them.

Sitting with her own coffee, it steams, rising into the warmth of the small-cozy café. The small place, hidden in the corner of the third floor, tucked away from the general public; doctors, nurses, and techs all sat around bantering. The booths were clad with withered leather, slightly worn on the sides likely due to the hands of many past staff members, none the less comfortable. It was heaven in comparison to the chill surgical halls, warm lit, and singing with slow jazz. In front of the surgeon sat a small pastry, not yet ate.

The surgeon stirred her warm drink, its caramel color swirling with foamy broth, her eyes trained downwards-admiring its warmth. Past her head, portraits of older staff members, some of which are easily recognizable; the same headshots displayed in the emergency department downstairs.

"You know-," Choi started, still slowly stirring her steamy drink," you could've gotten more. I don't mind."

Finally looking up to the younger woman, her eyes looming between her eyes for a moment before sitting up straight and fixing her posture, a thimble finger pushing her frames up the bridge of her nose.

"Tell me about yourself, Trinity. I've done all the talking thus far, and we have a bit of time."

Trinity scoffs, staring at her chosen food. It already seems like too much. She knows logically (she’s literally a doctor) she doesn’t eat enough, but something about being in gymnastics for all those years tricked her into her current diet. As it stands, Trinity has nothing to do but shrug and say “I’ll eat more at home, Dr. Choi.”

The statement makes Trinity pause.

“I… what do you wanna know exactly?”

The surgeon blinked once or twice, choosing to drop the conversation of food in favor of knowing about the younger doctor. She brought her cup to her lips, successfully stamping her cool-toned lipstick on its rim before humming, satisfied by its warm.

"Who are you outside of work, your interest, things of that nature," she slowly spoke after. Though typically, these topics aren't recommended for coworkers regardless of their departments, she found herself curious of the younger, seemingly stubborn younger doctor. She eyed the younger for a few moments, before continuing.

"Just so we can both loosen up some, I'm sure you get tired of Aristotle preaching in your ear," she giggles slightly, referencing her own philosophical speeches.

Trinity takes a small bite of her banana, chewing it up into a flavorless paste before audibly swallowing, chasing it with some milk.

“Uh, I got a roommate, s’name’s Whitaker. He’s annoying, but I keep him around. I like horror movies, and stupid reality TV, and music. Uh… in my spare time I sleep? I do medical research. Party sometimes.”

Much quieter she mumbles, “I use to do gymnastics.”

Trinity scratches her forehead with her thumb, thinking. “That’s really all there is to me, I guess. Shifts take up a lot of time. How about you?”

The surgeon before her offers another smooth smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her own ear before looking back up to the younger, immediately then sipping on the drink.

"Roommates, very smart, save money while you can," she responds softly, tilting her head with a polite smile then after.

"Gymnastics, huh? Very cool, bet you have a strong core," she laughs softly, checking her phone for a moment before replying.

"I've always been an art kid at heart. Especially theatre and dance, I did it throughout school and through my undergrad," she starts," I loved the idea of playing a character besides myself, being loud when I'm normally quiet."

She then taps her chin," General stuff about me, though. Hmmm- I own a cat, her name is Maple, but she earned the name malpractice. I also enjoy concerts, raves, that sort of thing."

Trinity snorts before she can stop herself. “Nah, my roommate actually makes me spend more money. He doesn’t pay rent. It’s worth it though, part of our deal. Wouldn’t want him to pay.”

Trinity blushes a little. “I’m out of practice, but I can still do a backflip and the ER probably makes up the difference,” she knocks on her core as if to prove it’s hardened.

Trinity raises her eyebrow, “Really? If you’re so artsy, why’d you pick medicine? They’re kinda polar opposites.”

Trinity smirks at the mental image of a cat named malpractice. She’s probably a little devil.

The surgeon offers a gentle smile to the response of the younger," Well, the obvious being, medicine is more stable. But.."

She pauses, taking one last sip of her drink," I think the brains understanding of art, its complexity, is equally interesting."

She takes a second longer to continue, humoring the question for a few long minutes, elaborating what she meant before checking her phone.

"Ah, Samantha just texted me. They're on their way back with Mr.Wang," she stood, stretching slowly, before offering a hand to the younger doctor.

"Suppose we should head back," she spoke, her voice slow and deliberate amongs the warm atmosphere of the café, melting into the background easily.

Trinity nods singularly, moving after Choi in quick succession as they head back to the OR.

They return to meet Samantha with the news that they’re just in time to start operating.

“So… what happened exactly?” Trinity asked Samantha, presuming tests and the like had come back by then.

The nurse adjusted her frames, which had since began to fall down the slope of her nose once more, freckled with pigment and age. Her hands worked in quick succession on her keyboard as she pulled up his scan," his hematoma grew about an entire inch since his last scan a few days ago."

Her words were blunt, her accent hanging off each syllable with a mild sense of sarcasm though her words were sincere.

Choi nodded," is he prepped and ready to go?"

The nurse only nodded in return, other nurses pushing him through the double doors and to the operating room, Choi following behind- nodding to the nurse before gesturing the younger doctor forward.

#🩹#the pitt #the pitt roleplay #the pitt rp #the pitt oc

Doctor Choi stood outside of the large double doors, which separated the hospital from the surgical space, directly over the bright red ‘STERILE AREA’ line, which further isolated the cold surgical halls from the bustling hospital. Unlike what she's normally seen in, she is dressed in dark crimson, almost wine colored scrubs, her nice embellished neatly on her left breast.

Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun, a matching crimson bag at her side, likely consisting of her loupes and scrub caps. Despite her specialty and its ability to cover your face at all times, she wore light makeup, successfully making her look around the age of the young doctor approaching her. She seemed to light up, looking at the younger doctor's badge reel.

“You must be Doctor Santos,” she extends a cleanly manicured hand,” my name is Destiny Choi. Feel free to just call me Destiny. Oh-.”

She cut herself off, momentarily digging into her bag to pull out a clipboard, a few papers held neatly under the metal bar. “Here we are, the necessary release forms. You just need to sign and date..”

She handed the clipboard over, pulling a pen from an exterior pocket of her bag to hand to the young doctor.

“You mentioned wanting to jump into the cases, yeah? Today, we have a few scheduled, eight to be exact, six of which are craniotomies. The others are spine cases, those tend to be a bit difficult to watch in on because we're standing over the patient, but if you are able to stay long- by all means,” she paused to purse her lips, offering the younger a smile,” please do. It's a bit of a personal formality, but I also had planned a lunch mid way through the day for my team. You are welcome to come along.”

‐-------------------------------------------------

[ @trinsantos04 ]

Trinity looks at Dr. Choi slightly longer than she needs to, feeling oddly underdressed. Her hair is in a tight, mid length ponytail held up by a black rubber-band, sans the little tendrils of baby hair that jut in front of her ears and forehead; her outfit consists of navy scrubs, a gray long-sleeved undershirt with a band logo on it (she hates the scrubs’ texture to much to go without one, but her more professional undershirts have yet to be washed), her well-loved white sneakers, and some plain stud earrings; her makeup is nonexistent at this point, being just light eyeliner after the sweat of her previous shift removed just about all her foundation and most of her blush. Normally, she’d fit right into the ER, but something about the surgeons of the PTMC whisper “elegant” even under pressure, something Trinity isn’t sure she’d ever be able to compare to.

Trinity, slightly off kilter, takes the pen (PTMC’s best ballpoint, as per the dark logo) and the clipboard, skimming it lightly and signing off on a few perfunctory lines before taking Dr. Choi’s hand in her own non-manicured one (she’d get a manicure if she wasn’t such a nail-biter, but why waste the money otherwise?) for a stronger-than-what-is-probably-necessary handshake.

“Yes, I’d love to join a case! As many as possible, really. Sleep is for the weak,” she jokes lightly, realizing she should probably have more decorum. Nerves always makes her cocky as an overcorrection, and today is no different.

She blinks at the prospect of a lunch break, nonplussed but not unhappy at the idea.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll come to lunch. Didn’t realize you guys had scheduled breaks like that. Come to think of it, Pedes does too, so maybe the ER is just special.”

With that introduction, Trinity put her hands in her pockets, awaiting further instruction. She can’t say she’s been in the surgery hallways more than twice or thrice (courtesy of some impromptu teaching by Walsh, Garcia, or Shamsi) so she’s unfamiliar with the navigation of it all.

Doctor Choi stiffles out a small laugh at the prospect, gently patting the younger's shoulder with a polite disagreement," sleep in important, the days are long up here, but I know its just as equal down under."

She paused before thinking of an answer," Most specialties do mandate a lunch break. You guys tend to be every which way constantly. That's probably why. Now- normally, we don't go out for lunch, but today is my scrub techs birthday, so it's a special occasion, I'm paying."

Turning sharply on her heels, she faces a large ScrubX machine, inputting some digits to dispense scrubs; then facing the younger doc.

"Your scrub size? We have to wear surgical scrubs here for obvious reasons," she hummed, soon dispensing the scrubs of the younger and handing her the bundle.

"Follow me," she continued, walking close to a door promptly labeled: female locker room. After putting in more random codes, buzzing them in. The locker room was as expected, rows of small grey lockers that lined the floor and walls, disrupted by a small bench and a curtain.

"Feel free to change in here. Beyond the curtain is a few bathroom stalls, if that makes you a little more comfortable. Warning, I would keep on your underscrubs beneath these surgical ones. It gets very out there," she hummed, opening her locker. Long lashes trained downwards as she placed her bag into the small space.

Then, looking up to the younger, still crouched and smiling, "You can leave the clipboard on the bench. We will turn in the forms whenever we are dressed."

Trinity nods lightly, “well Happy Birthday to them.”

Trinity always goes a size up in her scrubs, despite regulations, because any other size would have her squirming all shift in discomfort (probably leading to one of the annoying breakdowns she has at her place sometimes) Luckily for her, Dr. Choi doesn’t question her motioning for a Large rather than a Medium.

She lightly huffs at the warning, a small smile playing at her face. “Aye aye, cap’n,” Trinity mumbles before leaving the clipboard on one of the midline seats of the locker room and making a beeline to a stall.

(Dr. Choi isn’t going to know about anything on Trinitys first day. She has a chance to make her impression as someone sane, ready. She’s not gonna mess it up. So, stall it is.)

Trinity emerges from the bathroom stall wearing light blue scrubs instead of the normal dark-navy, though her undershirt still lies beneath it as a precaution. With a sarcastic salute, flat hand grazing her own forehead, she remarks, “Ready for duty, Dr. Choi!”

The elder looks over to the younger doctor with a small laugh, humored by her salute, now appropriately dressed. Her crimson scrubs were replaced by the same hospital scrubs, slightly too long, as per her cuffed scrub pants. Her hair, which was in an organized, now tucked into a scrub cap decorated with small felines.

Doctor Choi opened her locker further for the younger to place her belongings in with her own, "feel free to grab a scrub cap, I washed them all yesterday." Watching the younger females stare for a moment longer, she placed herself down on bench, slowly applying surgical shoe covers over her pristine white shoes. Waiting a moment longer, she stood stretching slowly, "No need for your stethoscope back there. The anesthesiologist handles the patients' vitals and whatnot."

After the other's belongings were put away, she bent to her level, closing her locker. "The code is seven, five, six, four, three, two," she looked to the younger doctor with a soft smile," if in the case you need to leave."

She stood, brushing her knees off before grabbing the clipboard that was rested nearby, tucking it under her axilla; heading to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, the same choreography she practiced every day.

"When we are in the surgical space, feel free to ask questions, even the silly ones," she opened the heavy door which kept the locker room seperated from the breakroom," after you, Doctor Santos."

Trinity puts on a scrub cap, feeling a little bit like an egg in the process, as she tries to remember the code.

7…6, 4? 5, 2? This totally won’t bite me later, she remarks in her head.

Feeling a little wounded, she puts her stethoscope in the locker next. It’s a nice pressure on her neck, an even nicer fidget, so it’ll be a little uncomfortable to not have it around, but she’s too excited about the upcoming surgery to really care.

“Okay, so you’ve mentioned an anesthesiologist and a scrub tech so far. No stupid questions right? So, who’s everyone on the team and what are their roles?”

Trinity let’s put a breath as she leaves the locker room. Hopefully, she doesn’t fuck this all up before she’s even begun.

The elder hummed in response," Jamie is out Scrub tech, he does as any scrub tech does, hands me what I need and actively assists when necessary. Suctioning and whatnot. Normally, my anesthesiologist is Doctor Sighn, but that's subject to change - she's on maternity leave. My nurse circulator, Laura, does a load during my cases: documents the case, corrects charges, gets supplies when necessary, etcetera." Exiting the breakroom, she stops by a table, clumsily taking a papertowel to a muffin then handing it over to the younger."

"There is a team of neurophysiologists who run EEGs during cases,they're normally contacted by the hospital. Thus, I'm not sure who will be here today. Normally, Gloria and Ben take my cases, but of course, that isn't always guaranteed," she hums, grabbing her own muffin and snacking despite just washing her hands.

"And imaging, we normally have someone from Radiology in a room at all times, especially during our reconstructive cases or spinals," she explained further," or if we need hardware places, especially in those cases. Again, no guaranteed names."

Soon after finishing her impromptu breakfast, she washed her hands in a sink nearby, drying them with papertowels. Walking to the door and placing her back flushed to the wood, she opened the door, allowing the younger doctor through.

The surgical atmosphere was strange in its own regard, so still but at the same time chaotic. People likely scrub techs, pushing large metal boxes around. Large machines lined the halls, some recognizable, C-arms... others not so much. The surgeon slowly removed herself from the door, gesturing the younger doctor forward.

"First things first, submitting your sheets, then we can head to the first case," she hummed, "oh- one other thing, you aren't pregnant or concerned for pregnancy... there's a lot of radiation involved at times. We do protect ourselves with lead vests, but it is something my boss encouraged me to ask."

Trinity listens with rapt attention, taking only 1 or 2 bites meager of the muffin before throwing it out to wash her hands. Jamie, Sighn, Laura, Gloria, Ben. Names to remember.

…she’ll eat later, she tells herself.

One thing Trinity notices is how much more clinical the environment is. Much less screaming, shouting, and general chaos than the ER or even Pedes. Well, that’s to be expected when all your patients are drugged or asleep.

The pregnancy questions throws her for a loop. “I- no, I’m gay,” Trinity says before she can stop herself. “I’m not looking for a baby any time soon,” she tries again with a little more tact.

Feeling heat rise to her face, she asks, “Where am I submitting these? Is there a formal meeting like in Pedes?”

The surgeon only nodded with a polite smile to the other's admission, "No shame in that." She then shakes her head, removing the clipboard from her axilla, leading the younger physician to the nurses station. With a gentle hand, she pulled a pen from a nearby cup, signing off on the document before releasing the paper from its binds, then placing it in a filing cabinet nearby.

"No formal meeting for us, fortunately enough, us surgeons normally just sorta show up whenever we are needed. We are responsible for going over our cases the day of or prior to the case scheduled time," she hummed, looking over to two large screens: the patients name and MRN, the time of the case, the details of the case, as well as extra supplies listed. She read over the blocks in the chart, walking forward to tap the screen, specifically on a light pink block," This will be our first case. No worries, the nurse goes over all of this whenever we are in the room. "

She took a retreating step to fish out surgical boot covers from a nearby wire shelf, handing Santos a pair before applying her own over shoes (which were already covered). Then retreaving two surgical bouffants caps to place over their scrub caps, only laughing to herself with an appropriate, "These always make me feel like a lunch lady."

Then, I took a quick moment to double-check herself, and then the other, she nodded," Are you ready, Doctor Santos?"

She takes in the information mostly silently, a series of nods indicating she’s paying attention. She chuckles though, at the description of the covers, before putting on her own.

“Feels very ‘Dexter’ to me. Am I gonna find your patient tied to the table with ceran wrap?”

Trinity assesses herself, carding away the beginnings of a headache as she pulls a small strand of hair behind her ear. Finally, she bobs her head once in agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

"Tied to the table, yes sorta, but ceran wrap is a stretch... normally it patient straps," she jokes in return. Leading the other forward and down a long hall.

"My first case today is an endoscopic assisted pituitary mass resection, so unfortunately, not too much to do on your behalf, but it should take less than an hour. The next case is a subdural hematoma resection, far more fun. But first thing's first, as always, handwashing," she instructed, leading the doctor to a handwash station.

Her moves were choreographed, practiced over many years of training and scrubbing into surgery, washing her hands up to her elbows, and gesturing for the other to do the same. The water was cold, freezing almost, against her pale skin.

After she was finished, instead of drying her hands, she placed her back against a small-windowed door; pushing it open for the other into a small vacuumed sealed room. Then, once again, into the surgical room.

The room itself was large, about the size of two trauma bays, but occupied with large machines. The anesthesiologist, covered by a surgical drape nearby, is accompanied by two large machines used to maintain homeostasis. Behind the machines, an even larger one, its wires tangled on the floor; a large screen with handles dangling off the top. Large-silver shelves lined two walls, filled to the brim with supplies, surgical tables draped appropriately with each and every tool placed near the patients bed, a tall male standing between them and the patient. A C-arm was placed against the wall near the main entrance of the room, which they hadn't entered from. The circulator sitting nearby, likely documenting the enterance of the surgeon. Lastly, a table that was not occupied, which held surgical gowns, and some gloves.

Doctor Choi promptly cleared her throat, grabbing two masks before handing Doctor Santos one. Applying it before breaking past more red lines, which she failed to mention to the other. "Good morning, team. I wanted to introduce everyone to our surprise guest. This is Doctor Santos from the ED. She will be following us today during our cases."

Trinity washed her hands up to her elbows an followed, a little duckish, to the room.

Perking up at the mention of something more hands on, she says, “Sick! I mean, it’s sad, but also… sick!”

As she entered the room, she tried not to gawk at all the supplies, making sure to not touch anything as she scoots past the entryway and lets the door close.

“Hi,” she says with a little wave and a slightly impatient face, eager to see how everything works as she puts her mask on, “thank you so much for letting me shadow.”

She watches as Choi gloves up, almost enamored at the smooth workings of the OR. They’re like a well oiled machine, and she’s a brand new cog with no grease to her name.

Under the harsh, bright lights, her eyes wide with curiosity squint a little, pupils miosing to pinpricks. Her heart thrums in excitement.

“Where should I be standing, Doctor? So I don’t get in your way.”

With the help of the scrub tech, the scrub gown was applied to Choi's front, she took a few strides over to the doctor whilst talking," for the time being, I'm going to have you in a corner so we can get everything situated, after then I will move you a little closer so you can have a better view of the scape. Can you, very carefully, help me with the velcro of my gown- the neck?"

After the slightly trembling hands of the other closed the neckline of the gown, she then hands her the card connected to the gown," Hold steadily, don't let it go now." Her voice was soft, instructing her with practiced patience, which likely came with years of experience. She, after the doctor grasped the tag, made a full 180° turn, pulling the fabric free from the tag and tying it with ease.

"Very good," she encouraged, then having the scrub tech help her glove up, finally walking towards the patient and standing near the draped woman's head before the nurse took a stand.

Laura, the nurse, paused for one moment, the patient lying draped in the surgical clamps, head hanging off the bed- and focused upwards, intubated appropriately. Laura took a moment, clicking slowly at the keyboard of the small monitor tucked in the corner of the room near the entrance, promptly calling the time out. Doctor Choi focused on her nurse, alongside the techs who all looked to the elder, who began to speak over the low hum of the many machines that surrounded the surgical field.

“Time out called at 10: 15. This is forty five year old Marrisa McAllister, who presented to the emergency department at approximately seven hundred this morning with a complaint of sudden-acute photophobia which occurred forty five minutes before initial presentation to the emergency department. Per resident doctor, who documents the physical examination,’ patient exam displays significant difficulties reading, with an visual acuity score rapidly decreasing across the span of the visit, leading to sudden visual loss of bilateral eyes at approximately 0715. Patients in clear distress and notes irregularities with at home HCG testing despite a medical history of hysterectomy. HCG quantitative displays a clear result of 28,000 as ordered by the attending physician. The patient also reports of galactorrhea, that began approximately a week prior. The patient initially believed to be in response to new contraceptives, which she began about three weeks prior to her visit. CT head with and without contrast were ordered, with findings of a seemingly malignant mass-like growth to the pituitary glands. MRI, appropriately ordered by Doctor Choi, displayed similar findings. Patient NPO since 2100 last night. Documented past medical history of: hypertension, hyperlipidemia, thyroid disorder of unspecified origins, and hysterectomy. No other documented history relevant to today's case. No religious stipulations were noted in her chart.”

Doctor Choi nodded, subtly adjusting the head clamps to face the nose upwards even further, using a small stool to roll around for better visualization. Her sterile gloves, double-gloved to prevent any breakage, adjusted the endoscope which was handed to her by the scrub tech on the other side of the patient. The surgeon took a moment, pausing to look towards the doctor who was awkwardly placed in the corner, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Don't break the sterile field, come around here next to me,” she instructed, speaking over the music that occupied the room's space,” so you can see the screen here.”

After shakily helping her senior with the gown and focusing on the patient history, Trinity moved - carefully - to where she was directed and found herself nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. Choi as she turned to look at the screen. She couldn’t see anything but regular skin for now, but that would change soon enough.

“So… how do you handle this? What’s the procedure?”

She can’t say that she knows much about any procedure that happened around here, but the ER required her to be well-rounded so she understood most everything she said except for any plans of fixing the matter. She felt out of her depth, but not unwelcome, just deeply curious.

Whatever the procedure may be, it seemingly must be done quickly, because everyone started up on their jobs before Trinitys question was answered. Orders muttered, tools transferring hands as she can only watch in benign confusion. She stares at the screen then to Choi’s face, then to the patient, then back to the screen in a precipitous motion, gleaning about as much as she could without further instruction.

It seems minimally invasive, by her eyes, but something must’ve gone wrong because she suddenly heard the voices go a little bit tenser, screen filling with blood.

Trinity stays quiet. The patient matters more than her education in this moment.

Without much noticeable concern from the elder, speaking softly whilst simultaneously directing the practically microscopic tools within the cranial space of the patient. Her eyes trained onto the screen, a brief moment of burning tissues, the bleeding coming to a halt.

"To answer your question," Choi started," in Transsphenoid surgery, we either use a microscope or endoscope. In this case, I opted to use the endoscope and a curette to extract the mass like structure on this patients pituitary gland."

Choi briefly looks over her shoulder to the doc, offering a small smile (as seen by her eyes over the mask and between the loupes.) She continued, looking to the screen, grasping hold of the mass successfully without much force- and was successfully able to remove it.

"As far as how I handle it personally, I know this job in particular, with the brain- is highly intimidating..," she trails on," I trained for many years, know the ins-and-outs, I recognize the possible injury which can occur. A big part of my job.." She pauses, pulling the tiny tools from the nasal canal, holding up the small mass to show the doctor before her.

"A big part of my job is recognizing that, no matter the outcome, simply having the courage to appear daily... is the hardest part. We change lives, regardless of specialities. But sometimes, it's okay to be scared, uncertain of the outcome. But have there not be individuals like us, there would be no solution for the souls who lack the knowledge of. "

Across the table, Jamie snickered, rolling his eyes ever slightly before shaking his head. Doctor Choi giving these philosophical speeches wasn't out of the ordinary it seemed.

Trinity stared, enraptured, at the globule in front of her.

“Makes sense,” Trinity mutters, still staring as her tightened shoulders relax some.

She snorts, “Gonna put that on a poster, Doc?”

She watched as the case slowly finished up, taking mental notes on the procedure and carding them for later. She knows she’ll be staying awake until her next shift researching the hell out of what she just saw.

As the patient gets moved to the next room, Trinity takes notice of the collective, soft sighs emerging from the surgeons. She gets it; she’s tired and she wasn’t even the one performing the surgery.

Still, the experience left her oddly invigorated. She also feels weirdly comforted. Robby would’ve never given a speech like that (anymore) and neither would Abbot. Al-hashimi maybe, if she was more acclimated to the Pitt.

“You give pep-talks often?”

Jamie cut in momentarily with a sarcastic snort," only every day." His face, hidden beneath the sterile mask, followed the patient. Doctor Choi only gave a response.

"In this specialty, you most literally crack open people, play inside of them. You are tasked with something both delicate and morbid in its own regard. It's important to keep good team morale," she strips off her gloves with a practiced pinch and role," otherwise you can easily fall into psychosis."

She pauses, using her naked hands to strip off the gown, then her mask. Her nose bridge was slightly reddened due to the pressure of the mask, soft freckles ever so slightly seen under the surgical lights, "we are all human in the end, and are not immune to the consequences of what we do. Santos, you and I alike, all health professionals, are the minority of people who can handle these things. Our health and mental health, especially, are important."

The surgeon took a lazy step forward, using the same manicured hand on the others back, lightly leading her out of the room as the staff began to clean up.

"Nothing too bad so far, any other questions, if not- we can stop by pre-op and visit with our next patient."

Trinity’s eyebrows furrow, “Psychosis? Really? I’ve never heard of a doctor going into psychosis because of work.”

The mental health conversation made her huff a little. The OR really is different from the ER, a significant amount. Down there, there’s no caring how “sane” you are when you have to get the patient stable. Up heart is stressful in its own way, but there’s room to breathe.

Still, something about this is much more… vulnerable. Seeing people’s organs and internals so clinically, purposefully, feels like a new naked.

Resisting the urge to rub her reddened nose bridge, Trinity nods.

“I can see how they would, though.”

Trinity finds herself zoning out, staring at the freckles of her seniors face. She feels oddly fuzzy. She doesn’t know why even, since she didn’t do anything in there, she just watched.

She blinks, almost languidly, and mumbles, “No questions. Let’s go to pre-op.”

"It does happen. Our job is often described as grotesque like autopsy or murder, more so when you spend hours inside of someone and they end up passing regardless. Our brain, in combination with societal norms, often convinces us of simply false things," she explains, gesturing for the younger doctor to follow.

She hit a silver button on the wall after a few long moments of adventure, opening up to a set of rooms, somewhat like the patient rooms of the ED- but seemed to lack the intense amount of chos the ED was popular for. There were at least thirty or so rooms, some occupied by patients, others not. Nurses weren't rushing around. Instead, they do their tasks at comfortable speeds.

Turning a corner, Choi faced towards the nurses station. There sat an older lady, out of date beehive on top her head, red frames barely hanging off her slightly hooked nose. "Samantha," Choi nearly sang to the nurse, who offered a small gruff before sarcastic singing back a," Choi."

"Where is my next patient," the surgeon began," Mr. Wang?"

Her lashed eyes grazed over the board posterior to the lady, narrowing over the patient's names before the lady spoke, red lips pursed in a near snarl," he is in room 16. Not in a great mood."

Choi offered a side ways smile, nearly a smirk," well, if I had a giant blood clot in my skull paired with the worst headache on the planet... I would be pretty peeved, too."

The prospect of losing yourself over a job makes Trinity shutter. She tries not to think about it much longer, shaking her head like it would get rid of her thoughts, like her brain was an etch-a-sketch.

The rooms were almost calming, the white noise of moving carts and varied talking lulling her somewhat. This shift has been so different from the ER, and yet it’s left her feeling just as much tension in her shoulders. She shakes that off too.

Trinity smirks at the conversation, Samantha loosely reminding her of Dana in temperament.

She catches up a few seconds later when she hears blood clot in the skull.

“Oh shit, that’s serious. Like- serious serious. I’m still getting on this right?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet in some combination of nerves and anticipation.

Despite her ranging moods, Dr. Choi remained her same level of light yet serious. Trinity thinks, loosely, that Choi should look into being an attending herself. She has the mien.

"Absolutely Doctor Santos, this is a wonderful learning experience," Choi hummed to herself, patting the younger physician's shoulder with a gentle hand.

"I've met with Mr.Wang before, admittedly outside of the hospital. I'm not sure he remembers me, had a thing with his son a while back," she explains with an eased expression," but he was a nice man."

She lightly knocks on the door, its label '16' dark and bold. With a gruff, she opens the door. In the bed, an elderly man, not too pleased as Samatha had mentioned.

"Good morning Mr.Wang, my name is Doctor Choi, I will be your surgeon today," she spoke, gesturing to the younger doctor who observed," and this is my boss." Her tone held banter, an obvious joke.

"All jokes aside, we will be the ones working on you today. How are you feeling?"

The old man eyes the pair, narrowing his eyes before replying a gruff," my head hurts," in some foreign language. The surgeon nods before gesturing to the younger physician once more," have any questions for him, Doctor Santos?"

Trinity subconsciously leaned into the touch before pulling away.

Meeting Mr. Wang was… interesting. He was gruff and old and angry but didn’t set off the usual signals Trinity felt around men. It made her feel weirdly more responsible then she’d normally feel for a patient like him, like he was one of the only good men around so she had to help keep him around. Being called the boss, she sarcastically jingles the information tag clip on her pants.

Trinity knew a few languages herself (English, Tagolog, Illongo, Wikang Filipino, some Spanish and a lot of ASL so that way Harlow would never happen again) but she couldn’t tell what the man was saying.

Biting her lip, Trinity offered a “Hello, I’m gonna try to make that head pain go away. Do you have any history of previous head injury? Are you taking any medications? Any medical conditions we don’t know about?”

She then turns to Dr. Choi, “What language is he speaking exactly?”

Choi let out something between a chuckle and sigh before answering, "he is speaking Mandarin, their family spoke a specific dialect, but that I am not sure of."

Her answer was honest, her own thin eyebrows furrowed as the man seemed to think his answer over, a thin finger tapping his wrinkled chin. Right as he seemed to think of something, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing important," he answers, his accent heavy, earning a sharp eye from the surgeon.

With a singular beat, he opened up, even slightly-shoulders sagging before he finally answered, " I fell a while back... fell asleep after."

Choi nodded once, then twice over, asking the elder if she could see his bag. The elder handed over the bag easily, allowing the doctor to fish out his medications, sealed away in a plastic bag. Pulling the bag open with a few satisfying pops, she hummed to herself," blood pressure medications, and uhm- aha, here."

Lifting a small bottle, its innards nearly depleted," he is taking Plavix." She turned to face the man once more," why do you take blood thinners, Mr.Wang?"

The older man seemed to scowl ever slightly before answering with an annoyed tone," my doctor told me to."

Choi furrowed her brow once more, tapping her badge against a nearby computer, looking over his documents.

"Aha, I see here, you were admitting for a coronary artery bypass graft not long ago. Was Doctor Damaraju your surgeon?"

The male only nodded in response, seemingly annoyed by the mention of the surgeon.

"Okay Mr.Wang, Doctor Santos and I are going to do our own little examination before pre-op gets your prepped, is that okay?"

A beat, followed by the elders nod.

"M'kay," the doctor takes a seat nearby on a stool," does your head hurt, Mr.Wang?" Another beat, followed by the elders sigh.

"Nausea or Vomiting?"

"Both."

"Any seizure like activity listed in his chart, Santos?"

The doctor turns her head over her shoulder to face the younger doctor, the warm lights of the patient rooms highlighting her tall nose bridge, her head slightly tilted.

Trinity looks through his chart, papers ruffling. After a moment, her hand flattens and shakes in a so-so gesture.

“No epilepsy, but it seems like he’s had a fall in the past that gave him a seizure. Concussion. This could be related to second impact syndrome?” she ended with a shrug.

Trinity, at the nod of Dr. Choi, asks a few more questions and performs a few small, on-sight tests. About to ask her senior what she thinks of the symptoms, Mr. Wang’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Trinity barely catches him before he falls, setting his limp body down as it starts twitching like the beginning of convulsion. She moves from him then, pushing back the gurney he was previously sitting on, along with the rooms 2 plastic chairs and 1 rolling chair.

“Time elapsed, 10 seconds,” she mutters, doing her best to mentally track the seizures timespan.

The surgeon, taken aback by the sudden situation, bends to the patients level and calls out to him. Retracting her pen light to check for pupilary reactiveness immediately. Looking to the younger doctor, she simply commands, "go get Samantha for me, Santos, please."

With a quick, one-two motion, she taps the shoulder of the man the moment he stops seizing. "Mr.Wang," she can hear in the distance, the nurses approaching with hurried steps from outside the room.

She shakes the man once more, her calm face a complete opposite of the scenario," when did you last take your blood thinners?"

The male groggily slurrs, earning the surgeon's pained expression,"four lorazepam, load one point five levetiracetam, prep DDAVP zero point three micrograms, and platelets. I would like a stat repeat CT, then have him intubated."

The surgeon, alongside the nurses, helped the man back into his gurney; the nurses taking over by the doctors commands.

"Santos," the elder doctor gestured towards the door, soon following her out.

"10 seconds, did you catch the time," she sighs out with a little laugh.

Trinity scampers off, returning back with Samantha in toe and quickly responding.

“I was there for about 15 seconds and came back…” Trinity looked at the clock on the wall, squinting. She could never read them right, but this was important. She made her best guess. “Uh- 2 minutes later? So about 2 minutes and 20 seconds if we account for extra time.”

Trinity looks a little pale. “Are- are we still operating or…? Was that seizure CVA? Is he having a stroke?”

"What we are going to do," she starts, taking a few long strides out of the room and over to a nearby work station and logging in," is send him to repeat imaging. With the medications, he should be stable for the time being. The hematoma is likely causing the intracranial pressure to increase, thus the stroke-like-symptoms and or seizures. My concern is, with the hematoma's placement, his slurred speech isn't the precursor to aphasia."

She explains, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her eye, sitting down on the stool and typing away-likely placing orders.

She pauses, looking up at Santos for a split moment, the sterile lights highlighting the obvious concern of the younger doctor. Her lips, plump with a few obvious bite marks-subconsciously placed, curled into a small smile before she spoke.

"Good work, Doctor Santos. You acted very quickly," her eyes etched to the screen once more, pointer finger tapping away at the mouse.

Now, out of the room, where the space was open,the energy seemed to diffuse slowly. Choi's shoulders slowly sagged as she released a slow breath, "Lord, I need a coffee."

The older female digs for a few moments in her bag before placing thick-black frames on her face, blinking away, then facing the younger. "What do you say, boss, want to go for a coffee?"

Santos blushed lightly at the compliment, not used to recieving such. Instictively going to curl at her stethoscope and realizing it’s not there, she’s left wringing her hands around nothing.

“Are you sure we can leave this gu- You know what? Sure. Yeah. Coffee’s good.”

She shakes her head lightly with a small huff.

“We both know you’re the boss here.”

Thinking about it for much longer makes her snort.

“You know, this has been the weirdest thing to happen to me so far, and there’s not even malpractice involved! I could stay here a while!” Trinity is, a little unfortunately, only half joking.

The older chuckled in response, "the patient will take a second to get to radiology, get his scans, radiology sometimes takes their time regardless."

The elder offered a small shrug, signing off the computer with a click," I do suppose, you guys downstairs never get the time to even touch the café on the third floor?"

She pushes her frames up subconsciously, standing up with a long stretch, yawning softly as doing so.

"Back in my day, the ER had an actual break area for students and interns, had a mandatory break for everyone," she hummed, "of course I was never down there then, but they all seemed a little happier."

With a soft yet firm hand to the others back she grinned," I'll take you to the café, don't worry about the cost, the hospital actually covers the physician's purchases... if you didn't know that already."

Trinity was honestly a little confounded. Not only had she never been to the cafe on the third floor, she didn’t know there WAS one. The only thing she knew about was the patient and loved ones cafeteria, which she doesn’t usually go into unless she can tell Whitaker’s hungry, since whenever a doctor goes in there they get swarmed with “Is he okay?” or “Will she make it?” or “I love them!” or “He’s just a kid” or “How much longer will this fucking take?!” or—

You get the idea.

“Nope. Never been,” she eventually settles on. Neuro is much more cushy than she thought it would be. Then again, it’s also terrifying. She’s heard stories of 24 hour or longer surgeries, on your feet with no breaks until the patient was cured because good shit takes time or something.

Trinity found herself surprised again. “Seriously?! You’re kidding, how did they ever stabilize patients with mandatory breaks? Must’ve been hella slow or hella staffed for that…”

Finally, she nods. Not that she was hungry, but it was a lovely thought. Trinity lived in the spaces between bouts of nausea, headaches, chills, and fainting spells. Never hunger or thirst, really, unless it got too bad. Still, she didn’t want to stress out the older woman, so a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody.

"They used to have a 'stacked' schedule, so one set of students and doctors would leave and the others would cover, and so forth. So some would break midway through the shifts for thirty to forty-five minutes, while another set would cover, and they would trade off," she explained, leading the younger through a set of double doors and eventually to a staff elevator.

Once the door closed, her nimble fingers pressed the button to the third floor subconsciously, looking to the younger as if to read her.

"Santos, may I offer a bit of advice?" She started, awaiting her answer with a bit of hidden anxiety.

"Nothing bad, I promise," she follows up, as if she noticed how seriously she sounded. The only sound filling up the seconds worth of space being the 'kick' sensation of the elevator followed by its comforting hum.

"I was in your shoes-or similar ones, not long ago. And I-," for once she almost seemed anxious.

"I think, you have the capabilities of being a wonderful physician. You are young, impressionable, and so hungry to learn. I've noticed how closely you watch," her voice was slightly rushed, the elevator stalling for a moment before the doors slowly opened.

"I think, Doctor Santos, you should allow yourself a bit more space. Take up more space with confidence, if you catch my drift," she laughs almost awkwardly before muttering something regarding how cheesy she sounds.

Allowing the younger to take the first step out, following suit," It's sappy. It is, but please assure your name is known. We have a saying, us korean folk."

She pauses, taking a step forward and linking a friendly arm with the younger before speaking, her words curled around her tongue-foreign and warm.

"오늘 걷지 않으면 내일 뛰어야 한다 " she speaks with a certain sing-song tone she used once or twice before.

"It means,' If you don't walk today, you must run tomorrow,' just- effort and confidence, take initiative, take up space, Trinity," her words were warm, much like the many tones of her mentors.

Trinity furrowed her brows before she started laughing. “Wow, this is the first time someone’s told me to be more confident! Usually it’s all, ‘Dial it down, Santos’” she says, lowering her voice in a facsimile of some coworker.

She hopes that the humor would stop the blush of being complimented - cared for, in any way, really - by Dr. Choi, but it didn’t.

Noticing a tense silence in her wake made her realize she’d actually have to take the advice seriously, that her normal coping mechanisms of humor and deflection wouldn’t work.

“Thank you, really, you-you’re really kind. I’m fine though, okay?”

Trinity unconsciously starts giggling again. “Jamie was right, this is your second inspirational speech today! You really do make a lot of them”

The surgeon's face drops only for a split moment, looking with the younger woman with an unreadable expression, eyes drawing a thin line between hers before she paused. Her arm unraveled before placing either hands on the other shoulder, hands equal part warm and chilled, likely the atmosphere. She held her there for a moment.

Her eyes held the woman for only a moment longer before she clicked her lips, a makeshift tsk between her lips before she spoke," you must promise me."

She starts, stoic expression lightening as she pulls her left hand away from the shoulder of the younger girl, extending a pinky finger towards the other.

"I may be old and partly senile," she jokes playfully, "but I do mean every word. You have great potential, don't doubt yourself."

Her laugh soon lit the hallway, using her right hand to cup the others' hand the moment their pinkies lace, wrapping their connected hands with the chill blanket of her hand.

"You mustn't forget this moment. Memory is a hard thing to regain, you'know?"

The contact made Trinity tense at first, but she slowly settled into feeling warmth at the gesture. She hasn’t been touched kindly in so long, hasn’t let anybody for fear of it becoming less-than-kind.

Trinity blinked, something in her heart that was once empty filling. Maybe it was support, or hope? Either way, it was enough of a feeling to make her say, eyes wide:

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

A beat goes by.

“Genuinely, thank you.”

They make their way to the café after that, and Trinity doesn’t feel hungry but she doesn’t feel nauseous either, which is how she ends up sat in a somewhat cozy, somewhat chilly corner of the space across from her senior, sipping on a chocolate milk and eating a banana with some saltines; she’d normally opt for a redbull with a snickers but something about the soft atmosphere made her feel like she didn’t need them.

Sitting with her own coffee, it steams, rising into the warmth of the small-cozy café. The small place, hidden in the corner of the third floor, tucked away from the general public; doctors, nurses, and techs all sat around bantering. The booths were clad with withered leather, slightly worn on the sides likely due to the hands of many past staff members, none the less comfortable. It was heaven in comparison to the chill surgical halls, warm lit, and singing with slow jazz. In front of the surgeon sat a small pastry, not yet ate.

The surgeon stirred her warm drink, its caramel color swirling with foamy broth, her eyes trained downwards-admiring its warmth. Past her head, portraits of older staff members, some of which are easily recognizable; the same headshots displayed in the emergency department downstairs.

"You know-," Choi started, still slowly stirring her steamy drink," you could've gotten more. I don't mind."

Finally looking up to the younger woman, her eyes looming between her eyes for a moment before sitting up straight and fixing her posture, a thimble finger pushing her frames up the bridge of her nose.

"Tell me about yourself, Trinity. I've done all the talking thus far, and we have a bit of time."

Trinity scoffs, staring at her chosen food. It already seems like too much. She knows logically (she’s literally a doctor) she doesn’t eat enough, but something about being in gymnastics for all those years tricked her into her current diet. As it stands, Trinity has nothing to do but shrug and say “I’ll eat more at home, Dr. Choi.”

The statement makes Trinity pause.

“I… what do you wanna know exactly?”

The surgeon blinked once or twice, choosing to drop the conversation of food in favor of knowing about the younger doctor. She brought her cup to her lips, successfully stamping her cool-toned lipstick on its rim before humming, satisfied by its warm.

"Who are you outside of work, your interest, things of that nature," she slowly spoke after. Though typically, these topics aren't recommended for coworkers regardless of their departments, she found herself curious of the younger, seemingly stubborn younger doctor. She eyed the younger for a few moments, before continuing.

"Just so we can both loosen up some, I'm sure you get tired of Aristotle preaching in your ear," she giggles slightly, referencing her own philosophical speeches.

Trinity takes a small bite of her banana, chewing it up into a flavorless paste before audibly swallowing, chasing it with some milk.

“Uh, I got a roommate, s’name’s Whitaker. He’s annoying, but I keep him around. I like horror movies, and stupid reality TV, and music. Uh… in my spare time I sleep? I do medical research. Party sometimes.”

Much quieter she mumbles, “I use to do gymnastics.”

Trinity scratches her forehead with her thumb, thinking. “That’s really all there is to me, I guess. Shifts take up a lot of time. How about you?”

The surgeon before her offers another smooth smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her own ear before looking back up to the younger, immediately then sipping on the drink.

"Roommates, very smart, save money while you can," she responds softly, tilting her head with a polite smile then after.

"Gymnastics, huh? Very cool, bet you have a strong core," she laughs softly, checking her phone for a moment before replying.

"I've always been an art kid at heart. Especially theatre and dance, I did it throughout school and through my undergrad," she starts," I loved the idea of playing a character besides myself, being loud when I'm normally quiet."

She then taps her chin," General stuff about me, though. Hmmm- I own a cat, her name is Maple, but she earned the name malpractice. I also enjoy concerts, raves, that sort of thing."

Trinity snorts before she can stop herself. “Nah, my roommate actually makes me spend more money. He doesn’t pay rent. It’s worth it though, part of our deal. Wouldn’t want him to pay.”

Trinity blushes a little. “I’m out of practice, but I can still do a backflip and the ER probably makes up the difference,” she knocks on her core as if to prove it’s hardened.

Trinity raises her eyebrow, “Really? If you’re so artsy, why’d you pick medicine? They’re kinda polar opposites.”

Trinity smirks at the mental image of a cat named malpractice. She’s probably a little devil.

The surgeon offers a gentle smile to the response of the younger," Well, the obvious being, medicine is more stable. But.."

She pauses, taking one last sip of her drink," I think the brains understanding of art, its complexity, is equally interesting."

She takes a second longer to continue, humoring the question for a few long minutes, elaborating what she meant before checking her phone.

"Ah, Samantha just texted me. They're on their way back with Mr.Wang," she stood, stretching slowly, before offering a hand to the younger doctor.

"Suppose we should head back," she spoke, her voice slow and deliberate amongs the warm atmosphere of the café, melting into the background easily.

#🩹#the pitt #the pitt roleplay #the pitt rp #the pitt oc

Lee Know dancing to "Genie" by Girls Generation | SKZ 6th FANMEETING Day 4

#🍠#🧠#lawd i luv him sm #Lee Know

linoscream.mp3

Visit Original Link

Yes girl ur surgeon is a leeknow stan

#🧠#the pitt #the pitt rp #the pitt roleplay #the pitt oc #the pitt rp blog #the pitt oc blog #the pitt roleplay blog #neurology #ooc: im just rambling now #don't do drugs kids #or have back problems ig

I’d tag them but if I’m not their bsf it’ll be awkward and I don’t think I can take rejection from another authority figure rn

No bc irl, especially in an ER, Why is my bestie someone's grandmother?

#🍠#i love my nurses #FNPs and PAs too #they give me sweets

My dream is work a shift chill enough that I can drink my coffee while its hot. Not like hours later when its cold

#🧠#the pitt #the pitt rp #the pitt roleplay #the pitt oc #the pitt rp blog #the pitt oc blog #the pitt roleplay blog #ooc: finished an entire pot by myself at work

Next time I have to go to the ED for a consult, imma make one of the newbies do a little dance to convince me to take their patients. Like yes jester jest for me

#🧠#the pitt #the pitt rp #the pitt roleplay #the pitt oc #the pitt rp blog #the pitt oc blog #the pitt roleplay blog

Yall, real talk, muscle relaxers will put your ass out. I took ONE dose at 730 in the morning and FOR 12 CONSECUTIVE HOURS I HAVE BEEN TIRED. like the sorta tired you get during long classes, where you jerk awake in those fuck ass plastic chairs. Like midday nap tired. Like "I'm just gonna sleep for five minutes longer" tired. WHY ON EARTH DID I ALLOW MYSELF TO WORK AND GO TO LECTURE IN THIS CONDITION?

#🍠#muscle relaxers and tramadol lmao #cyclobenzaprine is a bitch ass mf

I would do anything for a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit rn. But we suffer with a protein drink instead☹️

#🍠#My meds lowkey make me so tired I haven’t even THOUGHT of eating

Doctor Choi stood outside of the large double doors, which separated the hospital from the surgical space, directly over the bright red ‘STERILE AREA’ line, which further isolated the cold surgical halls from the bustling hospital. Unlike what she's normally seen in, she is dressed in dark crimson, almost wine colored scrubs, her nice embellished neatly on her left breast.

Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun, a matching crimson bag at her side, likely consisting of her loupes and scrub caps. Despite her specialty and its ability to cover your face at all times, she wore light makeup, successfully making her look around the age of the young doctor approaching her. She seemed to light up, looking at the younger doctor's badge reel.

“You must be Doctor Santos,” she extends a cleanly manicured hand,” my name is Destiny Choi. Feel free to just call me Destiny. Oh-.”

She cut herself off, momentarily digging into her bag to pull out a clipboard, a few papers held neatly under the metal bar. “Here we are, the necessary release forms. You just need to sign and date..”

She handed the clipboard over, pulling a pen from an exterior pocket of her bag to hand to the young doctor.

“You mentioned wanting to jump into the cases, yeah? Today, we have a few scheduled, eight to be exact, six of which are craniotomies. The others are spine cases, those tend to be a bit difficult to watch in on because we're standing over the patient, but if you are able to stay long- by all means,” she paused to purse her lips, offering the younger a smile,” please do. It's a bit of a personal formality, but I also had planned a lunch mid way through the day for my team. You are welcome to come along.”

‐-------------------------------------------------

[ @trinsantos04 ]

Trinity looks at Dr. Choi slightly longer than she needs to, feeling oddly underdressed. Her hair is in a tight, mid length ponytail held up by a black rubber-band, sans the little tendrils of baby hair that jut in front of her ears and forehead; her outfit consists of navy scrubs, a gray long-sleeved undershirt with a band logo on it (she hates the scrubs’ texture to much to go without one, but her more professional undershirts have yet to be washed), her well-loved white sneakers, and some plain stud earrings; her makeup is nonexistent at this point, being just light eyeliner after the sweat of her previous shift removed just about all her foundation and most of her blush. Normally, she’d fit right into the ER, but something about the surgeons of the PTMC whisper “elegant” even under pressure, something Trinity isn’t sure she’d ever be able to compare to.

Trinity, slightly off kilter, takes the pen (PTMC’s best ballpoint, as per the dark logo) and the clipboard, skimming it lightly and signing off on a few perfunctory lines before taking Dr. Choi’s hand in her own non-manicured one (she’d get a manicure if she wasn’t such a nail-biter, but why waste the money otherwise?) for a stronger-than-what-is-probably-necessary handshake.

“Yes, I’d love to join a case! As many as possible, really. Sleep is for the weak,” she jokes lightly, realizing she should probably have more decorum. Nerves always makes her cocky as an overcorrection, and today is no different.

She blinks at the prospect of a lunch break, nonplussed but not unhappy at the idea.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll come to lunch. Didn’t realize you guys had scheduled breaks like that. Come to think of it, Pedes does too, so maybe the ER is just special.”

With that introduction, Trinity put her hands in her pockets, awaiting further instruction. She can’t say she’s been in the surgery hallways more than twice or thrice (courtesy of some impromptu teaching by Walsh, Garcia, or Shamsi) so she’s unfamiliar with the navigation of it all.

Doctor Choi stiffles out a small laugh at the prospect, gently patting the younger's shoulder with a polite disagreement," sleep in important, the days are long up here, but I know its just as equal down under."

She paused before thinking of an answer," Most specialties do mandate a lunch break. You guys tend to be every which way constantly. That's probably why. Now- normally, we don't go out for lunch, but today is my scrub techs birthday, so it's a special occasion, I'm paying."

Turning sharply on her heels, she faces a large ScrubX machine, inputting some digits to dispense scrubs; then facing the younger doc.

"Your scrub size? We have to wear surgical scrubs here for obvious reasons," she hummed, soon dispensing the scrubs of the younger and handing her the bundle.

"Follow me," she continued, walking close to a door promptly labeled: female locker room. After putting in more random codes, buzzing them in. The locker room was as expected, rows of small grey lockers that lined the floor and walls, disrupted by a small bench and a curtain.

"Feel free to change in here. Beyond the curtain is a few bathroom stalls, if that makes you a little more comfortable. Warning, I would keep on your underscrubs beneath these surgical ones. It gets very out there," she hummed, opening her locker. Long lashes trained downwards as she placed her bag into the small space.

Then, looking up to the younger, still crouched and smiling, "You can leave the clipboard on the bench. We will turn in the forms whenever we are dressed."

Trinity nods lightly, “well Happy Birthday to them.”

Trinity always goes a size up in her scrubs, despite regulations, because any other size would have her squirming all shift in discomfort (probably leading to one of the annoying breakdowns she has at her place sometimes) Luckily for her, Dr. Choi doesn’t question her motioning for a Large rather than a Medium.

She lightly huffs at the warning, a small smile playing at her face. “Aye aye, cap’n,” Trinity mumbles before leaving the clipboard on one of the midline seats of the locker room and making a beeline to a stall.

(Dr. Choi isn’t going to know about anything on Trinitys first day. She has a chance to make her impression as someone sane, ready. She’s not gonna mess it up. So, stall it is.)

Trinity emerges from the bathroom stall wearing light blue scrubs instead of the normal dark-navy, though her undershirt still lies beneath it as a precaution. With a sarcastic salute, flat hand grazing her own forehead, she remarks, “Ready for duty, Dr. Choi!”

The elder looks over to the younger doctor with a small laugh, humored by her salute, now appropriately dressed. Her crimson scrubs were replaced by the same hospital scrubs, slightly too long, as per her cuffed scrub pants. Her hair, which was in an organized, now tucked into a scrub cap decorated with small felines.

Doctor Choi opened her locker further for the younger to place her belongings in with her own, "feel free to grab a scrub cap, I washed them all yesterday." Watching the younger females stare for a moment longer, she placed herself down on bench, slowly applying surgical shoe covers over her pristine white shoes. Waiting a moment longer, she stood stretching slowly, "No need for your stethoscope back there. The anesthesiologist handles the patients' vitals and whatnot."

After the other's belongings were put away, she bent to her level, closing her locker. "The code is seven, five, six, four, three, two," she looked to the younger doctor with a soft smile," if in the case you need to leave."

She stood, brushing her knees off before grabbing the clipboard that was rested nearby, tucking it under her axilla; heading to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, the same choreography she practiced every day.

"When we are in the surgical space, feel free to ask questions, even the silly ones," she opened the heavy door which kept the locker room seperated from the breakroom," after you, Doctor Santos."

Trinity puts on a scrub cap, feeling a little bit like an egg in the process, as she tries to remember the code.

7…6, 4? 5, 2? This totally won’t bite me later, she remarks in her head.

Feeling a little wounded, she puts her stethoscope in the locker next. It’s a nice pressure on her neck, an even nicer fidget, so it’ll be a little uncomfortable to not have it around, but she’s too excited about the upcoming surgery to really care.

“Okay, so you’ve mentioned an anesthesiologist and a scrub tech so far. No stupid questions right? So, who’s everyone on the team and what are their roles?”

Trinity let’s put a breath as she leaves the locker room. Hopefully, she doesn’t fuck this all up before she’s even begun.

The elder hummed in response," Jamie is out Scrub tech, he does as any scrub tech does, hands me what I need and actively assists when necessary. Suctioning and whatnot. Normally, my anesthesiologist is Doctor Sighn, but that's subject to change - she's on maternity leave. My nurse circulator, Laura, does a load during my cases: documents the case, corrects charges, gets supplies when necessary, etcetera." Exiting the breakroom, she stops by a table, clumsily taking a papertowel to a muffin then handing it over to the younger."

"There is a team of neurophysiologists who run EEGs during cases,they're normally contacted by the hospital. Thus, I'm not sure who will be here today. Normally, Gloria and Ben take my cases, but of course, that isn't always guaranteed," she hums, grabbing her own muffin and snacking despite just washing her hands.

"And imaging, we normally have someone from Radiology in a room at all times, especially during our reconstructive cases or spinals," she explained further," or if we need hardware places, especially in those cases. Again, no guaranteed names."

Soon after finishing her impromptu breakfast, she washed her hands in a sink nearby, drying them with papertowels. Walking to the door and placing her back flushed to the wood, she opened the door, allowing the younger doctor through.

The surgical atmosphere was strange in its own regard, so still but at the same time chaotic. People likely scrub techs, pushing large metal boxes around. Large machines lined the halls, some recognizable, C-arms... others not so much. The surgeon slowly removed herself from the door, gesturing the younger doctor forward.

"First things first, submitting your sheets, then we can head to the first case," she hummed, "oh- one other thing, you aren't pregnant or concerned for pregnancy... there's a lot of radiation involved at times. We do protect ourselves with lead vests, but it is something my boss encouraged me to ask."

Trinity listens with rapt attention, taking only 1 or 2 bites meager of the muffin before throwing it out to wash her hands. Jamie, Sighn, Laura, Gloria, Ben. Names to remember.

…she’ll eat later, she tells herself.

One thing Trinity notices is how much more clinical the environment is. Much less screaming, shouting, and general chaos than the ER or even Pedes. Well, that’s to be expected when all your patients are drugged or asleep.

The pregnancy questions throws her for a loop. “I- no, I’m gay,” Trinity says before she can stop herself. “I’m not looking for a baby any time soon,” she tries again with a little more tact.

Feeling heat rise to her face, she asks, “Where am I submitting these? Is there a formal meeting like in Pedes?”

The surgeon only nodded with a polite smile to the other's admission, "No shame in that." She then shakes her head, removing the clipboard from her axilla, leading the younger physician to the nurses station. With a gentle hand, she pulled a pen from a nearby cup, signing off on the document before releasing the paper from its binds, then placing it in a filing cabinet nearby.

"No formal meeting for us, fortunately enough, us surgeons normally just sorta show up whenever we are needed. We are responsible for going over our cases the day of or prior to the case scheduled time," she hummed, looking over to two large screens: the patients name and MRN, the time of the case, the details of the case, as well as extra supplies listed. She read over the blocks in the chart, walking forward to tap the screen, specifically on a light pink block," This will be our first case. No worries, the nurse goes over all of this whenever we are in the room. "

She took a retreating step to fish out surgical boot covers from a nearby wire shelf, handing Santos a pair before applying her own over shoes (which were already covered). Then retreaving two surgical bouffants caps to place over their scrub caps, only laughing to herself with an appropriate, "These always make me feel like a lunch lady."

Then, I took a quick moment to double-check herself, and then the other, she nodded," Are you ready, Doctor Santos?"

She takes in the information mostly silently, a series of nods indicating she’s paying attention. She chuckles though, at the description of the covers, before putting on her own.

“Feels very ‘Dexter’ to me. Am I gonna find your patient tied to the table with ceran wrap?”

Trinity assesses herself, carding away the beginnings of a headache as she pulls a small strand of hair behind her ear. Finally, she bobs her head once in agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

"Tied to the table, yes sorta, but ceran wrap is a stretch... normally it patient straps," she jokes in return. Leading the other forward and down a long hall.

"My first case today is an endoscopic assisted pituitary mass resection, so unfortunately, not too much to do on your behalf, but it should take less than an hour. The next case is a subdural hematoma resection, far more fun. But first thing's first, as always, handwashing," she instructed, leading the doctor to a handwash station.

Her moves were choreographed, practiced over many years of training and scrubbing into surgery, washing her hands up to her elbows, and gesturing for the other to do the same. The water was cold, freezing almost, against her pale skin.

After she was finished, instead of drying her hands, she placed her back against a small-windowed door; pushing it open for the other into a small vacuumed sealed room. Then, once again, into the surgical room.

The room itself was large, about the size of two trauma bays, but occupied with large machines. The anesthesiologist, covered by a surgical drape nearby, is accompanied by two large machines used to maintain homeostasis. Behind the machines, an even larger one, its wires tangled on the floor; a large screen with handles dangling off the top. Large-silver shelves lined two walls, filled to the brim with supplies, surgical tables draped appropriately with each and every tool placed near the patients bed, a tall male standing between them and the patient. A C-arm was placed against the wall near the main entrance of the room, which they hadn't entered from. The circulator sitting nearby, likely documenting the enterance of the surgeon. Lastly, a table that was not occupied, which held surgical gowns, and some gloves.

Doctor Choi promptly cleared her throat, grabbing two masks before handing Doctor Santos one. Applying it before breaking past more red lines, which she failed to mention to the other. "Good morning, team. I wanted to introduce everyone to our surprise guest. This is Doctor Santos from the ED. She will be following us today during our cases."

Trinity washed her hands up to her elbows an followed, a little duckish, to the room.

Perking up at the mention of something more hands on, she says, “Sick! I mean, it’s sad, but also… sick!”

As she entered the room, she tried not to gawk at all the supplies, making sure to not touch anything as she scoots past the entryway and lets the door close.

“Hi,” she says with a little wave and a slightly impatient face, eager to see how everything works as she puts her mask on, “thank you so much for letting me shadow.”

She watches as Choi gloves up, almost enamored at the smooth workings of the OR. They’re like a well oiled machine, and she’s a brand new cog with no grease to her name.

Under the harsh, bright lights, her eyes wide with curiosity squint a little, pupils miosing to pinpricks. Her heart thrums in excitement.

“Where should I be standing, Doctor? So I don’t get in your way.”

With the help of the scrub tech, the scrub gown was applied to Choi's front, she took a few strides over to the doctor whilst talking," for the time being, I'm going to have you in a corner so we can get everything situated, after then I will move you a little closer so you can have a better view of the scape. Can you, very carefully, help me with the velcro of my gown- the neck?"

After the slightly trembling hands of the other closed the neckline of the gown, she then hands her the card connected to the gown," Hold steadily, don't let it go now." Her voice was soft, instructing her with practiced patience, which likely came with years of experience. She, after the doctor grasped the tag, made a full 180° turn, pulling the fabric free from the tag and tying it with ease.

"Very good," she encouraged, then having the scrub tech help her glove up, finally walking towards the patient and standing near the draped woman's head before the nurse took a stand.

Laura, the nurse, paused for one moment, the patient lying draped in the surgical clamps, head hanging off the bed- and focused upwards, intubated appropriately. Laura took a moment, clicking slowly at the keyboard of the small monitor tucked in the corner of the room near the entrance, promptly calling the time out. Doctor Choi focused on her nurse, alongside the techs who all looked to the elder, who began to speak over the low hum of the many machines that surrounded the surgical field.

“Time out called at 10: 15. This is forty five year old Marrisa McAllister, who presented to the emergency department at approximately seven hundred this morning with a complaint of sudden-acute photophobia which occurred forty five minutes before initial presentation to the emergency department. Per resident doctor, who documents the physical examination,’ patient exam displays significant difficulties reading, with an visual acuity score rapidly decreasing across the span of the visit, leading to sudden visual loss of bilateral eyes at approximately 0715. Patients in clear distress and notes irregularities with at home HCG testing despite a medical history of hysterectomy. HCG quantitative displays a clear result of 28,000 as ordered by the attending physician. The patient also reports of galactorrhea, that began approximately a week prior. The patient initially believed to be in response to new contraceptives, which she began about three weeks prior to her visit. CT head with and without contrast were ordered, with findings of a seemingly malignant mass-like growth to the pituitary glands. MRI, appropriately ordered by Doctor Choi, displayed similar findings. Patient NPO since 2100 last night. Documented past medical history of: hypertension, hyperlipidemia, thyroid disorder of unspecified origins, and hysterectomy. No other documented history relevant to today's case. No religious stipulations were noted in her chart.”

Doctor Choi nodded, subtly adjusting the head clamps to face the nose upwards even further, using a small stool to roll around for better visualization. Her sterile gloves, double-gloved to prevent any breakage, adjusted the endoscope which was handed to her by the scrub tech on the other side of the patient. The surgeon took a moment, pausing to look towards the doctor who was awkwardly placed in the corner, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Don't break the sterile field, come around here next to me,” she instructed, speaking over the music that occupied the room's space,” so you can see the screen here.”

After shakily helping her senior with the gown and focusing on the patient history, Trinity moved - carefully - to where she was directed and found herself nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. Choi as she turned to look at the screen. She couldn’t see anything but regular skin for now, but that would change soon enough.

“So… how do you handle this? What’s the procedure?”

She can’t say that she knows much about any procedure that happened around here, but the ER required her to be well-rounded so she understood most everything she said except for any plans of fixing the matter. She felt out of her depth, but not unwelcome, just deeply curious.

Whatever the procedure may be, it seemingly must be done quickly, because everyone started up on their jobs before Trinitys question was answered. Orders muttered, tools transferring hands as she can only watch in benign confusion. She stares at the screen then to Choi’s face, then to the patient, then back to the screen in a precipitous motion, gleaning about as much as she could without further instruction.

It seems minimally invasive, by her eyes, but something must’ve gone wrong because she suddenly heard the voices go a little bit tenser, screen filling with blood.

Trinity stays quiet. The patient matters more than her education in this moment.

Without much noticeable concern from the elder, speaking softly whilst simultaneously directing the practically microscopic tools within the cranial space of the patient. Her eyes trained onto the screen, a brief moment of burning tissues, the bleeding coming to a halt.

"To answer your question," Choi started," in Transsphenoid surgery, we either use a microscope or endoscope. In this case, I opted to use the endoscope and a curette to extract the mass like structure on this patients pituitary gland."

Choi briefly looks over her shoulder to the doc, offering a small smile (as seen by her eyes over the mask and between the loupes.) She continued, looking to the screen, grasping hold of the mass successfully without much force- and was successfully able to remove it.

"As far as how I handle it personally, I know this job in particular, with the brain- is highly intimidating..," she trails on," I trained for many years, know the ins-and-outs, I recognize the possible injury which can occur. A big part of my job.." She pauses, pulling the tiny tools from the nasal canal, holding up the small mass to show the doctor before her.

"A big part of my job is recognizing that, no matter the outcome, simply having the courage to appear daily... is the hardest part. We change lives, regardless of specialities. But sometimes, it's okay to be scared, uncertain of the outcome. But have there not be individuals like us, there would be no solution for the souls who lack the knowledge of. "

Across the table, Jamie snickered, rolling his eyes ever slightly before shaking his head. Doctor Choi giving these philosophical speeches wasn't out of the ordinary it seemed.

Trinity stared, enraptured, at the globule in front of her.

“Makes sense,” Trinity mutters, still staring as her tightened shoulders relax some.

She snorts, “Gonna put that on a poster, Doc?”

She watched as the case slowly finished up, taking mental notes on the procedure and carding them for later. She knows she’ll be staying awake until her next shift researching the hell out of what she just saw.

As the patient gets moved to the next room, Trinity takes notice of the collective, soft sighs emerging from the surgeons. She gets it; she’s tired and she wasn’t even the one performing the surgery.

Still, the experience left her oddly invigorated. She also feels weirdly comforted. Robby would’ve never given a speech like that (anymore) and neither would Abbot. Al-hashimi maybe, if she was more acclimated to the Pitt.

“You give pep-talks often?”

Jamie cut in momentarily with a sarcastic snort," only every day." His face, hidden beneath the sterile mask, followed the patient. Doctor Choi only gave a response.

"In this specialty, you most literally crack open people, play inside of them. You are tasked with something both delicate and morbid in its own regard. It's important to keep good team morale," she strips off her gloves with a practiced pinch and role," otherwise you can easily fall into psychosis."

She pauses, using her naked hands to strip off the gown, then her mask. Her nose bridge was slightly reddened due to the pressure of the mask, soft freckles ever so slightly seen under the surgical lights, "we are all human in the end, and are not immune to the consequences of what we do. Santos, you and I alike, all health professionals, are the minority of people who can handle these things. Our health and mental health, especially, are important."

The surgeon took a lazy step forward, using the same manicured hand on the others back, lightly leading her out of the room as the staff began to clean up.

"Nothing too bad so far, any other questions, if not- we can stop by pre-op and visit with our next patient."

Trinity’s eyebrows furrow, “Psychosis? Really? I’ve never heard of a doctor going into psychosis because of work.”

The mental health conversation made her huff a little. The OR really is different from the ER, a significant amount. Down there, there’s no caring how “sane” you are when you have to get the patient stable. Up heart is stressful in its own way, but there’s room to breathe.

Still, something about this is much more… vulnerable. Seeing people’s organs and internals so clinically, purposefully, feels like a new naked.

Resisting the urge to rub her reddened nose bridge, Trinity nods.

“I can see how they would, though.”

Trinity finds herself zoning out, staring at the freckles of her seniors face. She feels oddly fuzzy. She doesn’t know why even, since she didn’t do anything in there, she just watched.

She blinks, almost languidly, and mumbles, “No questions. Let’s go to pre-op.”

"It does happen. Our job is often described as grotesque like autopsy or murder, more so when you spend hours inside of someone and they end up passing regardless. Our brain, in combination with societal norms, often convinces us of simply false things," she explains, gesturing for the younger doctor to follow.

She hit a silver button on the wall after a few long moments of adventure, opening up to a set of rooms, somewhat like the patient rooms of the ED- but seemed to lack the intense amount of chos the ED was popular for. There were at least thirty or so rooms, some occupied by patients, others not. Nurses weren't rushing around. Instead, they do their tasks at comfortable speeds.

Turning a corner, Choi faced towards the nurses station. There sat an older lady, out of date beehive on top her head, red frames barely hanging off her slightly hooked nose. "Samantha," Choi nearly sang to the nurse, who offered a small gruff before sarcastic singing back a," Choi."

"Where is my next patient," the surgeon began," Mr. Wang?"

Her lashed eyes grazed over the board posterior to the lady, narrowing over the patient's names before the lady spoke, red lips pursed in a near snarl," he is in room 16. Not in a great mood."

Choi offered a side ways smile, nearly a smirk," well, if I had a giant blood clot in my skull paired with the worst headache on the planet... I would be pretty peeved, too."

The prospect of losing yourself over a job makes Trinity shutter. She tries not to think about it much longer, shaking her head like it would get rid of her thoughts, like her brain was an etch-a-sketch.

The rooms were almost calming, the white noise of moving carts and varied talking lulling her somewhat. This shift has been so different from the ER, and yet it’s left her feeling just as much tension in her shoulders. She shakes that off too.

Trinity smirks at the conversation, Samantha loosely reminding her of Dana in temperament.

She catches up a few seconds later when she hears blood clot in the skull.

“Oh shit, that’s serious. Like- serious serious. I’m still getting on this right?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet in some combination of nerves and anticipation.

Despite her ranging moods, Dr. Choi remained her same level of light yet serious. Trinity thinks, loosely, that Choi should look into being an attending herself. She has the mien.

"Absolutely Doctor Santos, this is a wonderful learning experience," Choi hummed to herself, patting the younger physician's shoulder with a gentle hand.

"I've met with Mr.Wang before, admittedly outside of the hospital. I'm not sure he remembers me, had a thing with his son a while back," she explains with an eased expression," but he was a nice man."

She lightly knocks on the door, its label '16' dark and bold. With a gruff, she opens the door. In the bed, an elderly man, not too pleased as Samatha had mentioned.

"Good morning Mr.Wang, my name is Doctor Choi, I will be your surgeon today," she spoke, gesturing to the younger doctor who observed," and this is my boss." Her tone held banter, an obvious joke.

"All jokes aside, we will be the ones working on you today. How are you feeling?"

The old man eyes the pair, narrowing his eyes before replying a gruff," my head hurts," in some foreign language. The surgeon nods before gesturing to the younger physician once more," have any questions for him, Doctor Santos?"

Trinity subconsciously leaned into the touch before pulling away.

Meeting Mr. Wang was… interesting. He was gruff and old and angry but didn’t set off the usual signals Trinity felt around men. It made her feel weirdly more responsible then she’d normally feel for a patient like him, like he was one of the only good men around so she had to help keep him around. Being called the boss, she sarcastically jingles the information tag clip on her pants.

Trinity knew a few languages herself (English, Tagolog, Illongo, Wikang Filipino, some Spanish and a lot of ASL so that way Harlow would never happen again) but she couldn’t tell what the man was saying.

Biting her lip, Trinity offered a “Hello, I’m gonna try to make that head pain go away. Do you have any history of previous head injury? Are you taking any medications? Any medical conditions we don’t know about?”

She then turns to Dr. Choi, “What language is he speaking exactly?”

Choi let out something between a chuckle and sigh before answering, "he is speaking Mandarin, their family spoke a specific dialect, but that I am not sure of."

Her answer was honest, her own thin eyebrows furrowed as the man seemed to think his answer over, a thin finger tapping his wrinkled chin. Right as he seemed to think of something, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing important," he answers, his accent heavy, earning a sharp eye from the surgeon.

With a singular beat, he opened up, even slightly-shoulders sagging before he finally answered, " I fell a while back... fell asleep after."

Choi nodded once, then twice over, asking the elder if she could see his bag. The elder handed over the bag easily, allowing the doctor to fish out his medications, sealed away in a plastic bag. Pulling the bag open with a few satisfying pops, she hummed to herself," blood pressure medications, and uhm- aha, here."

Lifting a small bottle, its innards nearly depleted," he is taking Plavix." She turned to face the man once more," why do you take blood thinners, Mr.Wang?"

The older man seemed to scowl ever slightly before answering with an annoyed tone," my doctor told me to."

Choi furrowed her brow once more, tapping her badge against a nearby computer, looking over his documents.

"Aha, I see here, you were admitting for a coronary artery bypass graft not long ago. Was Doctor Damaraju your surgeon?"

The male only nodded in response, seemingly annoyed by the mention of the surgeon.

"Okay Mr.Wang, Doctor Santos and I are going to do our own little examination before pre-op gets your prepped, is that okay?"

A beat, followed by the elders nod.

"M'kay," the doctor takes a seat nearby on a stool," does your head hurt, Mr.Wang?" Another beat, followed by the elders sigh.

"Nausea or Vomiting?"

"Both."

"Any seizure like activity listed in his chart, Santos?"

The doctor turns her head over her shoulder to face the younger doctor, the warm lights of the patient rooms highlighting her tall nose bridge, her head slightly tilted.

Trinity looks through his chart, papers ruffling. After a moment, her hand flattens and shakes in a so-so gesture.

“No epilepsy, but it seems like he’s had a fall in the past that gave him a seizure. Concussion. This could be related to second impact syndrome?” she ended with a shrug.

Trinity, at the nod of Dr. Choi, asks a few more questions and performs a few small, on-sight tests. About to ask her senior what she thinks of the symptoms, Mr. Wang’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Trinity barely catches him before he falls, setting his limp body down as it starts twitching like the beginning of convulsion. She moves from him then, pushing back the gurney he was previously sitting on, along with the rooms 2 plastic chairs and 1 rolling chair.

“Time elapsed, 10 seconds,” she mutters, doing her best to mentally track the seizures timespan.

The surgeon, taken aback by the sudden situation, bends to the patients level and calls out to him. Retracting her pen light to check for pupilary reactiveness immediately. Looking to the younger doctor, she simply commands, "go get Samantha for me, Santos, please."

With a quick, one-two motion, she taps the shoulder of the man the moment he stops seizing. "Mr.Wang," she can hear in the distance, the nurses approaching with hurried steps from outside the room.

She shakes the man once more, her calm face a complete opposite of the scenario," when did you last take your blood thinners?"

The male groggily slurrs, earning the surgeon's pained expression,"four lorazepam, load one point five levetiracetam, prep DDAVP zero point three micrograms, and platelets. I would like a stat repeat CT, then have him intubated."

The surgeon, alongside the nurses, helped the man back into his gurney; the nurses taking over by the doctors commands.

"Santos," the elder doctor gestured towards the door, soon following her out.

"10 seconds, did you catch the time," she sighs out with a little laugh.

Trinity scampers off, returning back with Samantha in toe and quickly responding.

“I was there for about 15 seconds and came back…” Trinity looked at the clock on the wall, squinting. She could never read them right, but this was important. She made her best guess. “Uh- 2 minutes later? So about 2 minutes and 20 seconds if we account for extra time.”

Trinity looks a little pale. “Are- are we still operating or…? Was that seizure CVA? Is he having a stroke?”

"What we are going to do," she starts, taking a few long strides out of the room and over to a nearby work station and logging in," is send him to repeat imaging. With the medications, he should be stable for the time being. The hematoma is likely causing the intracranial pressure to increase, thus the stroke-like-symptoms and or seizures. My concern is, with the hematoma's placement, his slurred speech isn't the precursor to aphasia."

She explains, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her eye, sitting down on the stool and typing away-likely placing orders.

She pauses, looking up at Santos for a split moment, the sterile lights highlighting the obvious concern of the younger doctor. Her lips, plump with a few obvious bite marks-subconsciously placed, curled into a small smile before she spoke.

"Good work, Doctor Santos. You acted very quickly," her eyes etched to the screen once more, pointer finger tapping away at the mouse.

Now, out of the room, where the space was open,the energy seemed to diffuse slowly. Choi's shoulders slowly sagged as she released a slow breath, "Lord, I need a coffee."

The older female digs for a few moments in her bag before placing thick-black frames on her face, blinking away, then facing the younger. "What do you say, boss, want to go for a coffee?"

Santos blushed lightly at the compliment, not used to recieving such. Instictively going to curl at her stethoscope and realizing it’s not there, she’s left wringing her hands around nothing.

“Are you sure we can leave this gu- You know what? Sure. Yeah. Coffee’s good.”

She shakes her head lightly with a small huff.

“We both know you’re the boss here.”

Thinking about it for much longer makes her snort.

“You know, this has been the weirdest thing to happen to me so far, and there’s not even malpractice involved! I could stay here a while!” Trinity is, a little unfortunately, only half joking.

The older chuckled in response, "the patient will take a second to get to radiology, get his scans, radiology sometimes takes their time regardless."

The elder offered a small shrug, signing off the computer with a click," I do suppose, you guys downstairs never get the time to even touch the café on the third floor?"

She pushes her frames up subconsciously, standing up with a long stretch, yawning softly as doing so.

"Back in my day, the ER had an actual break area for students and interns, had a mandatory break for everyone," she hummed, "of course I was never down there then, but they all seemed a little happier."

With a soft yet firm hand to the others back she grinned," I'll take you to the café, don't worry about the cost, the hospital actually covers the physician's purchases... if you didn't know that already."

Trinity was honestly a little confounded. Not only had she never been to the cafe on the third floor, she didn’t know there WAS one. The only thing she knew about was the patient and loved ones cafeteria, which she doesn’t usually go into unless she can tell Whitaker’s hungry, since whenever a doctor goes in there they get swarmed with “Is he okay?” or “Will she make it?” or “I love them!” or “He’s just a kid” or “How much longer will this fucking take?!” or—

You get the idea.

“Nope. Never been,” she eventually settles on. Neuro is much more cushy than she thought it would be. Then again, it’s also terrifying. She’s heard stories of 24 hour or longer surgeries, on your feet with no breaks until the patient was cured because good shit takes time or something.

Trinity found herself surprised again. “Seriously?! You’re kidding, how did they ever stabilize patients with mandatory breaks? Must’ve been hella slow or hella staffed for that…”

Finally, she nods. Not that she was hungry, but it was a lovely thought. Trinity lived in the spaces between bouts of nausea, headaches, chills, and fainting spells. Never hunger or thirst, really, unless it got too bad. Still, she didn’t want to stress out the older woman, so a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody.

"They used to have a 'stacked' schedule, so one set of students and doctors would leave and the others would cover, and so forth. So some would break midway through the shifts for thirty to forty-five minutes, while another set would cover, and they would trade off," she explained, leading the younger through a set of double doors and eventually to a staff elevator.

Once the door closed, her nimble fingers pressed the button to the third floor subconsciously, looking to the younger as if to read her.

"Santos, may I offer a bit of advice?" She started, awaiting her answer with a bit of hidden anxiety.

"Nothing bad, I promise," she follows up, as if she noticed how seriously she sounded. The only sound filling up the seconds worth of space being the 'kick' sensation of the elevator followed by its comforting hum.

"I was in your shoes-or similar ones, not long ago. And I-," for once she almost seemed anxious.

"I think, you have the capabilities of being a wonderful physician. You are young, impressionable, and so hungry to learn. I've noticed how closely you watch," her voice was slightly rushed, the elevator stalling for a moment before the doors slowly opened.

"I think, Doctor Santos, you should allow yourself a bit more space. Take up more space with confidence, if you catch my drift," she laughs almost awkwardly before muttering something regarding how cheesy she sounds.

Allowing the younger to take the first step out, following suit," It's sappy. It is, but please assure your name is known. We have a saying, us korean folk."

She pauses, taking a step forward and linking a friendly arm with the younger before speaking, her words curled around her tongue-foreign and warm.

"오늘 걷지 않으면 내일 뛰어야 한다 " she speaks with a certain sing-song tone she used once or twice before.

"It means,' If you don't walk today, you must run tomorrow,' just- effort and confidence, take initiative, take up space, Trinity," her words were warm, much like the many tones of her mentors.

Trinity furrowed her brows before she started laughing. “Wow, this is the first time someone’s told me to be more confident! Usually it’s all, ‘Dial it down, Santos’” she says, lowering her voice in a facsimile of some coworker.

She hopes that the humor would stop the blush of being complimented - cared for, in any way, really - by Dr. Choi, but it didn’t.

Noticing a tense silence in her wake made her realize she’d actually have to take the advice seriously, that her normal coping mechanisms of humor and deflection wouldn’t work.

“Thank you, really, you-you’re really kind. I’m fine though, okay?”

Trinity unconsciously starts giggling again. “Jamie was right, this is your second inspirational speech today! You really do make a lot of them”

The surgeon's face drops only for a split moment, looking with the younger woman with an unreadable expression, eyes drawing a thin line between hers before she paused. Her arm unraveled before placing either hands on the other shoulder, hands equal part warm and chilled, likely the atmosphere. She held her there for a moment.

Her eyes held the woman for only a moment longer before she clicked her lips, a makeshift tsk between her lips before she spoke," you must promise me."

She starts, stoic expression lightening as she pulls her left hand away from the shoulder of the younger girl, extending a pinky finger towards the other.

"I may be old and partly senile," she jokes playfully, "but I do mean every word. You have great potential, don't doubt yourself."

Her laugh soon lit the hallway, using her right hand to cup the others' hand the moment their pinkies lace, wrapping their connected hands with the chill blanket of her hand.

"You mustn't forget this moment. Memory is a hard thing to regain, you'know?"

The contact made Trinity tense at first, but she slowly settled into feeling warmth at the gesture. She hasn’t been touched kindly in so long, hasn’t let anybody for fear of it becoming less-than-kind.

Trinity blinked, something in her heart that was once empty filling. Maybe it was support, or hope? Either way, it was enough of a feeling to make her say, eyes wide:

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

A beat goes by.

“Genuinely, thank you.”

They make their way to the café after that, and Trinity doesn’t feel hungry but she doesn’t feel nauseous either, which is how she ends up sat in a somewhat cozy, somewhat chilly corner of the space across from her senior, sipping on a chocolate milk and eating a banana with some saltines; she’d normally opt for a redbull with a snickers but something about the soft atmosphere made her feel like she didn’t need them.

Sitting with her own coffee, it steams, rising into the warmth of the small-cozy café. The small place, hidden in the corner of the third floor, tucked away from the general public; doctors, nurses, and techs all sat around bantering. The booths were clad with withered leather, slightly worn on the sides likely due to the hands of many past staff members, none the less comfortable. It was heaven in comparison to the chill surgical halls, warm lit, and singing with slow jazz. In front of the surgeon sat a small pastry, not yet ate.

The surgeon stirred her warm drink, its caramel color swirling with foamy broth, her eyes trained downwards-admiring its warmth. Past her head, portraits of older staff members, some of which are easily recognizable; the same headshots displayed in the emergency department downstairs.

"You know-," Choi started, still slowly stirring her steamy drink," you could've gotten more. I don't mind."

Finally looking up to the younger woman, her eyes looming between her eyes for a moment before sitting up straight and fixing her posture, a thimble finger pushing her frames up the bridge of her nose.

"Tell me about yourself, Trinity. I've done all the talking thus far, and we have a bit of time."

Trinity scoffs, staring at her chosen food. It already seems like too much. She knows logically (she’s literally a doctor) she doesn’t eat enough, but something about being in gymnastics for all those years tricked her into her current diet. As it stands, Trinity has nothing to do but shrug and say “I’ll eat more at home, Dr. Choi.”

The statement makes Trinity pause.

“I… what do you wanna know exactly?”

The surgeon blinked once or twice, choosing to drop the conversation of food in favor of knowing about the younger doctor. She brought her cup to her lips, successfully stamping her cool-toned lipstick on its rim before humming, satisfied by its warm.

"Who are you outside of work, your interest, things of that nature," she slowly spoke after. Though typically, these topics aren't recommended for coworkers regardless of their departments, she found herself curious of the younger, seemingly stubborn younger doctor. She eyed the younger for a few moments, before continuing.

"Just so we can both loosen up some, I'm sure you get tired of Aristotle preaching in your ear," she giggles slightly, referencing her own philosophical speeches.

Trinity takes a small bite of her banana, chewing it up into a flavorless paste before audibly swallowing, chasing it with some milk.

“Uh, I got a roommate, s’name’s Whitaker. He’s annoying, but I keep him around. I like horror movies, and stupid reality TV, and music. Uh… in my spare time I sleep? I do medical research. Party sometimes.”

Much quieter she mumbles, “I use to do gymnastics.”

Trinity scratches her forehead with her thumb, thinking. “That’s really all there is to me, I guess. Shifts take up a lot of time. How about you?”

The surgeon before her offers another smooth smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her own ear before looking back up to the younger, immediately then sipping on the drink.

"Roommates, very smart, save money while you can," she responds softly, tilting her head with a polite smile then after.

"Gymnastics, huh? Very cool, bet you have a strong core," she laughs softly, checking her phone for a moment before replying.

"I've always been an art kid at heart. Especially theatre and dance, I did it throughout school and through my undergrad," she starts," I loved the idea of playing a character besides myself, being loud when I'm normally quiet."

She then taps her chin," General stuff about me, though. Hmmm- I own a cat, her name is Maple, but she earned the name malpractice. I also enjoy concerts, raves, that sort of thing."

#🩹#the pitt #the pitt roleplay #the pitt rp #the pitt oc

Doctor Choi stood outside of the large double doors, which separated the hospital from the surgical space, directly over the bright red ‘STERILE AREA’ line, which further isolated the cold surgical halls from the bustling hospital. Unlike what she's normally seen in, she is dressed in dark crimson, almost wine colored scrubs, her nice embellished neatly on her left breast.

Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun, a matching crimson bag at her side, likely consisting of her loupes and scrub caps. Despite her specialty and its ability to cover your face at all times, she wore light makeup, successfully making her look around the age of the young doctor approaching her. She seemed to light up, looking at the younger doctor's badge reel.

“You must be Doctor Santos,” she extends a cleanly manicured hand,” my name is Destiny Choi. Feel free to just call me Destiny. Oh-.”

She cut herself off, momentarily digging into her bag to pull out a clipboard, a few papers held neatly under the metal bar. “Here we are, the necessary release forms. You just need to sign and date..”

She handed the clipboard over, pulling a pen from an exterior pocket of her bag to hand to the young doctor.

“You mentioned wanting to jump into the cases, yeah? Today, we have a few scheduled, eight to be exact, six of which are craniotomies. The others are spine cases, those tend to be a bit difficult to watch in on because we're standing over the patient, but if you are able to stay long- by all means,” she paused to purse her lips, offering the younger a smile,” please do. It's a bit of a personal formality, but I also had planned a lunch mid way through the day for my team. You are welcome to come along.”

‐-------------------------------------------------

[ @trinsantos04 ]

Trinity looks at Dr. Choi slightly longer than she needs to, feeling oddly underdressed. Her hair is in a tight, mid length ponytail held up by a black rubber-band, sans the little tendrils of baby hair that jut in front of her ears and forehead; her outfit consists of navy scrubs, a gray long-sleeved undershirt with a band logo on it (she hates the scrubs’ texture to much to go without one, but her more professional undershirts have yet to be washed), her well-loved white sneakers, and some plain stud earrings; her makeup is nonexistent at this point, being just light eyeliner after the sweat of her previous shift removed just about all her foundation and most of her blush. Normally, she’d fit right into the ER, but something about the surgeons of the PTMC whisper “elegant” even under pressure, something Trinity isn’t sure she’d ever be able to compare to.

Trinity, slightly off kilter, takes the pen (PTMC’s best ballpoint, as per the dark logo) and the clipboard, skimming it lightly and signing off on a few perfunctory lines before taking Dr. Choi’s hand in her own non-manicured one (she’d get a manicure if she wasn’t such a nail-biter, but why waste the money otherwise?) for a stronger-than-what-is-probably-necessary handshake.

“Yes, I’d love to join a case! As many as possible, really. Sleep is for the weak,” she jokes lightly, realizing she should probably have more decorum. Nerves always makes her cocky as an overcorrection, and today is no different.

She blinks at the prospect of a lunch break, nonplussed but not unhappy at the idea.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll come to lunch. Didn’t realize you guys had scheduled breaks like that. Come to think of it, Pedes does too, so maybe the ER is just special.”

With that introduction, Trinity put her hands in her pockets, awaiting further instruction. She can’t say she’s been in the surgery hallways more than twice or thrice (courtesy of some impromptu teaching by Walsh, Garcia, or Shamsi) so she’s unfamiliar with the navigation of it all.

Doctor Choi stiffles out a small laugh at the prospect, gently patting the younger's shoulder with a polite disagreement," sleep in important, the days are long up here, but I know its just as equal down under."

She paused before thinking of an answer," Most specialties do mandate a lunch break. You guys tend to be every which way constantly. That's probably why. Now- normally, we don't go out for lunch, but today is my scrub techs birthday, so it's a special occasion, I'm paying."

Turning sharply on her heels, she faces a large ScrubX machine, inputting some digits to dispense scrubs; then facing the younger doc.

"Your scrub size? We have to wear surgical scrubs here for obvious reasons," she hummed, soon dispensing the scrubs of the younger and handing her the bundle.

"Follow me," she continued, walking close to a door promptly labeled: female locker room. After putting in more random codes, buzzing them in. The locker room was as expected, rows of small grey lockers that lined the floor and walls, disrupted by a small bench and a curtain.

"Feel free to change in here. Beyond the curtain is a few bathroom stalls, if that makes you a little more comfortable. Warning, I would keep on your underscrubs beneath these surgical ones. It gets very out there," she hummed, opening her locker. Long lashes trained downwards as she placed her bag into the small space.

Then, looking up to the younger, still crouched and smiling, "You can leave the clipboard on the bench. We will turn in the forms whenever we are dressed."

Trinity nods lightly, “well Happy Birthday to them.”

Trinity always goes a size up in her scrubs, despite regulations, because any other size would have her squirming all shift in discomfort (probably leading to one of the annoying breakdowns she has at her place sometimes) Luckily for her, Dr. Choi doesn’t question her motioning for a Large rather than a Medium.

She lightly huffs at the warning, a small smile playing at her face. “Aye aye, cap’n,” Trinity mumbles before leaving the clipboard on one of the midline seats of the locker room and making a beeline to a stall.

(Dr. Choi isn’t going to know about anything on Trinitys first day. She has a chance to make her impression as someone sane, ready. She’s not gonna mess it up. So, stall it is.)

Trinity emerges from the bathroom stall wearing light blue scrubs instead of the normal dark-navy, though her undershirt still lies beneath it as a precaution. With a sarcastic salute, flat hand grazing her own forehead, she remarks, “Ready for duty, Dr. Choi!”

The elder looks over to the younger doctor with a small laugh, humored by her salute, now appropriately dressed. Her crimson scrubs were replaced by the same hospital scrubs, slightly too long, as per her cuffed scrub pants. Her hair, which was in an organized, now tucked into a scrub cap decorated with small felines.

Doctor Choi opened her locker further for the younger to place her belongings in with her own, "feel free to grab a scrub cap, I washed them all yesterday." Watching the younger females stare for a moment longer, she placed herself down on bench, slowly applying surgical shoe covers over her pristine white shoes. Waiting a moment longer, she stood stretching slowly, "No need for your stethoscope back there. The anesthesiologist handles the patients' vitals and whatnot."

After the other's belongings were put away, she bent to her level, closing her locker. "The code is seven, five, six, four, three, two," she looked to the younger doctor with a soft smile," if in the case you need to leave."

She stood, brushing her knees off before grabbing the clipboard that was rested nearby, tucking it under her axilla; heading to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, the same choreography she practiced every day.

"When we are in the surgical space, feel free to ask questions, even the silly ones," she opened the heavy door which kept the locker room seperated from the breakroom," after you, Doctor Santos."

Trinity puts on a scrub cap, feeling a little bit like an egg in the process, as she tries to remember the code.

7…6, 4? 5, 2? This totally won’t bite me later, she remarks in her head.

Feeling a little wounded, she puts her stethoscope in the locker next. It’s a nice pressure on her neck, an even nicer fidget, so it’ll be a little uncomfortable to not have it around, but she’s too excited about the upcoming surgery to really care.

“Okay, so you’ve mentioned an anesthesiologist and a scrub tech so far. No stupid questions right? So, who’s everyone on the team and what are their roles?”

Trinity let’s put a breath as she leaves the locker room. Hopefully, she doesn’t fuck this all up before she’s even begun.

The elder hummed in response," Jamie is out Scrub tech, he does as any scrub tech does, hands me what I need and actively assists when necessary. Suctioning and whatnot. Normally, my anesthesiologist is Doctor Sighn, but that's subject to change - she's on maternity leave. My nurse circulator, Laura, does a load during my cases: documents the case, corrects charges, gets supplies when necessary, etcetera." Exiting the breakroom, she stops by a table, clumsily taking a papertowel to a muffin then handing it over to the younger."

"There is a team of neurophysiologists who run EEGs during cases,they're normally contacted by the hospital. Thus, I'm not sure who will be here today. Normally, Gloria and Ben take my cases, but of course, that isn't always guaranteed," she hums, grabbing her own muffin and snacking despite just washing her hands.

"And imaging, we normally have someone from Radiology in a room at all times, especially during our reconstructive cases or spinals," she explained further," or if we need hardware places, especially in those cases. Again, no guaranteed names."

Soon after finishing her impromptu breakfast, she washed her hands in a sink nearby, drying them with papertowels. Walking to the door and placing her back flushed to the wood, she opened the door, allowing the younger doctor through.

The surgical atmosphere was strange in its own regard, so still but at the same time chaotic. People likely scrub techs, pushing large metal boxes around. Large machines lined the halls, some recognizable, C-arms... others not so much. The surgeon slowly removed herself from the door, gesturing the younger doctor forward.

"First things first, submitting your sheets, then we can head to the first case," she hummed, "oh- one other thing, you aren't pregnant or concerned for pregnancy... there's a lot of radiation involved at times. We do protect ourselves with lead vests, but it is something my boss encouraged me to ask."

Trinity listens with rapt attention, taking only 1 or 2 bites meager of the muffin before throwing it out to wash her hands. Jamie, Sighn, Laura, Gloria, Ben. Names to remember.

…she’ll eat later, she tells herself.

One thing Trinity notices is how much more clinical the environment is. Much less screaming, shouting, and general chaos than the ER or even Pedes. Well, that’s to be expected when all your patients are drugged or asleep.

The pregnancy questions throws her for a loop. “I- no, I’m gay,” Trinity says before she can stop herself. “I’m not looking for a baby any time soon,” she tries again with a little more tact.

Feeling heat rise to her face, she asks, “Where am I submitting these? Is there a formal meeting like in Pedes?”

The surgeon only nodded with a polite smile to the other's admission, "No shame in that." She then shakes her head, removing the clipboard from her axilla, leading the younger physician to the nurses station. With a gentle hand, she pulled a pen from a nearby cup, signing off on the document before releasing the paper from its binds, then placing it in a filing cabinet nearby.

"No formal meeting for us, fortunately enough, us surgeons normally just sorta show up whenever we are needed. We are responsible for going over our cases the day of or prior to the case scheduled time," she hummed, looking over to two large screens: the patients name and MRN, the time of the case, the details of the case, as well as extra supplies listed. She read over the blocks in the chart, walking forward to tap the screen, specifically on a light pink block," This will be our first case. No worries, the nurse goes over all of this whenever we are in the room. "

She took a retreating step to fish out surgical boot covers from a nearby wire shelf, handing Santos a pair before applying her own over shoes (which were already covered). Then retreaving two surgical bouffants caps to place over their scrub caps, only laughing to herself with an appropriate, "These always make me feel like a lunch lady."

Then, I took a quick moment to double-check herself, and then the other, she nodded," Are you ready, Doctor Santos?"

She takes in the information mostly silently, a series of nods indicating she’s paying attention. She chuckles though, at the description of the covers, before putting on her own.

“Feels very ‘Dexter’ to me. Am I gonna find your patient tied to the table with ceran wrap?”

Trinity assesses herself, carding away the beginnings of a headache as she pulls a small strand of hair behind her ear. Finally, she bobs her head once in agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

"Tied to the table, yes sorta, but ceran wrap is a stretch... normally it patient straps," she jokes in return. Leading the other forward and down a long hall.

"My first case today is an endoscopic assisted pituitary mass resection, so unfortunately, not too much to do on your behalf, but it should take less than an hour. The next case is a subdural hematoma resection, far more fun. But first thing's first, as always, handwashing," she instructed, leading the doctor to a handwash station.

Her moves were choreographed, practiced over many years of training and scrubbing into surgery, washing her hands up to her elbows, and gesturing for the other to do the same. The water was cold, freezing almost, against her pale skin.

After she was finished, instead of drying her hands, she placed her back against a small-windowed door; pushing it open for the other into a small vacuumed sealed room. Then, once again, into the surgical room.

The room itself was large, about the size of two trauma bays, but occupied with large machines. The anesthesiologist, covered by a surgical drape nearby, is accompanied by two large machines used to maintain homeostasis. Behind the machines, an even larger one, its wires tangled on the floor; a large screen with handles dangling off the top. Large-silver shelves lined two walls, filled to the brim with supplies, surgical tables draped appropriately with each and every tool placed near the patients bed, a tall male standing between them and the patient. A C-arm was placed against the wall near the main entrance of the room, which they hadn't entered from. The circulator sitting nearby, likely documenting the enterance of the surgeon. Lastly, a table that was not occupied, which held surgical gowns, and some gloves.

Doctor Choi promptly cleared her throat, grabbing two masks before handing Doctor Santos one. Applying it before breaking past more red lines, which she failed to mention to the other. "Good morning, team. I wanted to introduce everyone to our surprise guest. This is Doctor Santos from the ED. She will be following us today during our cases."

Trinity washed her hands up to her elbows an followed, a little duckish, to the room.

Perking up at the mention of something more hands on, she says, “Sick! I mean, it’s sad, but also… sick!”

As she entered the room, she tried not to gawk at all the supplies, making sure to not touch anything as she scoots past the entryway and lets the door close.

“Hi,” she says with a little wave and a slightly impatient face, eager to see how everything works as she puts her mask on, “thank you so much for letting me shadow.”

She watches as Choi gloves up, almost enamored at the smooth workings of the OR. They’re like a well oiled machine, and she’s a brand new cog with no grease to her name.

Under the harsh, bright lights, her eyes wide with curiosity squint a little, pupils miosing to pinpricks. Her heart thrums in excitement.

“Where should I be standing, Doctor? So I don’t get in your way.”

With the help of the scrub tech, the scrub gown was applied to Choi's front, she took a few strides over to the doctor whilst talking," for the time being, I'm going to have you in a corner so we can get everything situated, after then I will move you a little closer so you can have a better view of the scape. Can you, very carefully, help me with the velcro of my gown- the neck?"

After the slightly trembling hands of the other closed the neckline of the gown, she then hands her the card connected to the gown," Hold steadily, don't let it go now." Her voice was soft, instructing her with practiced patience, which likely came with years of experience. She, after the doctor grasped the tag, made a full 180° turn, pulling the fabric free from the tag and tying it with ease.

"Very good," she encouraged, then having the scrub tech help her glove up, finally walking towards the patient and standing near the draped woman's head before the nurse took a stand.

Laura, the nurse, paused for one moment, the patient lying draped in the surgical clamps, head hanging off the bed- and focused upwards, intubated appropriately. Laura took a moment, clicking slowly at the keyboard of the small monitor tucked in the corner of the room near the entrance, promptly calling the time out. Doctor Choi focused on her nurse, alongside the techs who all looked to the elder, who began to speak over the low hum of the many machines that surrounded the surgical field.

“Time out called at 10: 15. This is forty five year old Marrisa McAllister, who presented to the emergency department at approximately seven hundred this morning with a complaint of sudden-acute photophobia which occurred forty five minutes before initial presentation to the emergency department. Per resident doctor, who documents the physical examination,’ patient exam displays significant difficulties reading, with an visual acuity score rapidly decreasing across the span of the visit, leading to sudden visual loss of bilateral eyes at approximately 0715. Patients in clear distress and notes irregularities with at home HCG testing despite a medical history of hysterectomy. HCG quantitative displays a clear result of 28,000 as ordered by the attending physician. The patient also reports of galactorrhea, that began approximately a week prior. The patient initially believed to be in response to new contraceptives, which she began about three weeks prior to her visit. CT head with and without contrast were ordered, with findings of a seemingly malignant mass-like growth to the pituitary glands. MRI, appropriately ordered by Doctor Choi, displayed similar findings. Patient NPO since 2100 last night. Documented past medical history of: hypertension, hyperlipidemia, thyroid disorder of unspecified origins, and hysterectomy. No other documented history relevant to today's case. No religious stipulations were noted in her chart.”

Doctor Choi nodded, subtly adjusting the head clamps to face the nose upwards even further, using a small stool to roll around for better visualization. Her sterile gloves, double-gloved to prevent any breakage, adjusted the endoscope which was handed to her by the scrub tech on the other side of the patient. The surgeon took a moment, pausing to look towards the doctor who was awkwardly placed in the corner, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Don't break the sterile field, come around here next to me,” she instructed, speaking over the music that occupied the room's space,” so you can see the screen here.”

After shakily helping her senior with the gown and focusing on the patient history, Trinity moved - carefully - to where she was directed and found herself nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. Choi as she turned to look at the screen. She couldn’t see anything but regular skin for now, but that would change soon enough.

“So… how do you handle this? What’s the procedure?”

She can’t say that she knows much about any procedure that happened around here, but the ER required her to be well-rounded so she understood most everything she said except for any plans of fixing the matter. She felt out of her depth, but not unwelcome, just deeply curious.

Whatever the procedure may be, it seemingly must be done quickly, because everyone started up on their jobs before Trinitys question was answered. Orders muttered, tools transferring hands as she can only watch in benign confusion. She stares at the screen then to Choi’s face, then to the patient, then back to the screen in a precipitous motion, gleaning about as much as she could without further instruction.

It seems minimally invasive, by her eyes, but something must’ve gone wrong because she suddenly heard the voices go a little bit tenser, screen filling with blood.

Trinity stays quiet. The patient matters more than her education in this moment.

Without much noticeable concern from the elder, speaking softly whilst simultaneously directing the practically microscopic tools within the cranial space of the patient. Her eyes trained onto the screen, a brief moment of burning tissues, the bleeding coming to a halt.

"To answer your question," Choi started," in Transsphenoid surgery, we either use a microscope or endoscope. In this case, I opted to use the endoscope and a curette to extract the mass like structure on this patients pituitary gland."

Choi briefly looks over her shoulder to the doc, offering a small smile (as seen by her eyes over the mask and between the loupes.) She continued, looking to the screen, grasping hold of the mass successfully without much force- and was successfully able to remove it.

"As far as how I handle it personally, I know this job in particular, with the brain- is highly intimidating..," she trails on," I trained for many years, know the ins-and-outs, I recognize the possible injury which can occur. A big part of my job.." She pauses, pulling the tiny tools from the nasal canal, holding up the small mass to show the doctor before her.

"A big part of my job is recognizing that, no matter the outcome, simply having the courage to appear daily... is the hardest part. We change lives, regardless of specialities. But sometimes, it's okay to be scared, uncertain of the outcome. But have there not be individuals like us, there would be no solution for the souls who lack the knowledge of. "

Across the table, Jamie snickered, rolling his eyes ever slightly before shaking his head. Doctor Choi giving these philosophical speeches wasn't out of the ordinary it seemed.

Trinity stared, enraptured, at the globule in front of her.

“Makes sense,” Trinity mutters, still staring as her tightened shoulders relax some.

She snorts, “Gonna put that on a poster, Doc?”

She watched as the case slowly finished up, taking mental notes on the procedure and carding them for later. She knows she’ll be staying awake until her next shift researching the hell out of what she just saw.

As the patient gets moved to the next room, Trinity takes notice of the collective, soft sighs emerging from the surgeons. She gets it; she’s tired and she wasn’t even the one performing the surgery.

Still, the experience left her oddly invigorated. She also feels weirdly comforted. Robby would’ve never given a speech like that (anymore) and neither would Abbot. Al-hashimi maybe, if she was more acclimated to the Pitt.

“You give pep-talks often?”

Jamie cut in momentarily with a sarcastic snort," only every day." His face, hidden beneath the sterile mask, followed the patient. Doctor Choi only gave a response.

"In this specialty, you most literally crack open people, play inside of them. You are tasked with something both delicate and morbid in its own regard. It's important to keep good team morale," she strips off her gloves with a practiced pinch and role," otherwise you can easily fall into psychosis."

She pauses, using her naked hands to strip off the gown, then her mask. Her nose bridge was slightly reddened due to the pressure of the mask, soft freckles ever so slightly seen under the surgical lights, "we are all human in the end, and are not immune to the consequences of what we do. Santos, you and I alike, all health professionals, are the minority of people who can handle these things. Our health and mental health, especially, are important."

The surgeon took a lazy step forward, using the same manicured hand on the others back, lightly leading her out of the room as the staff began to clean up.

"Nothing too bad so far, any other questions, if not- we can stop by pre-op and visit with our next patient."

Trinity’s eyebrows furrow, “Psychosis? Really? I’ve never heard of a doctor going into psychosis because of work.”

The mental health conversation made her huff a little. The OR really is different from the ER, a significant amount. Down there, there’s no caring how “sane” you are when you have to get the patient stable. Up heart is stressful in its own way, but there’s room to breathe.

Still, something about this is much more… vulnerable. Seeing people’s organs and internals so clinically, purposefully, feels like a new naked.

Resisting the urge to rub her reddened nose bridge, Trinity nods.

“I can see how they would, though.”

Trinity finds herself zoning out, staring at the freckles of her seniors face. She feels oddly fuzzy. She doesn’t know why even, since she didn’t do anything in there, she just watched.

She blinks, almost languidly, and mumbles, “No questions. Let’s go to pre-op.”

"It does happen. Our job is often described as grotesque like autopsy or murder, more so when you spend hours inside of someone and they end up passing regardless. Our brain, in combination with societal norms, often convinces us of simply false things," she explains, gesturing for the younger doctor to follow.

She hit a silver button on the wall after a few long moments of adventure, opening up to a set of rooms, somewhat like the patient rooms of the ED- but seemed to lack the intense amount of chos the ED was popular for. There were at least thirty or so rooms, some occupied by patients, others not. Nurses weren't rushing around. Instead, they do their tasks at comfortable speeds.

Turning a corner, Choi faced towards the nurses station. There sat an older lady, out of date beehive on top her head, red frames barely hanging off her slightly hooked nose. "Samantha," Choi nearly sang to the nurse, who offered a small gruff before sarcastic singing back a," Choi."

"Where is my next patient," the surgeon began," Mr. Wang?"

Her lashed eyes grazed over the board posterior to the lady, narrowing over the patient's names before the lady spoke, red lips pursed in a near snarl," he is in room 16. Not in a great mood."

Choi offered a side ways smile, nearly a smirk," well, if I had a giant blood clot in my skull paired with the worst headache on the planet... I would be pretty peeved, too."

The prospect of losing yourself over a job makes Trinity shutter. She tries not to think about it much longer, shaking her head like it would get rid of her thoughts, like her brain was an etch-a-sketch.

The rooms were almost calming, the white noise of moving carts and varied talking lulling her somewhat. This shift has been so different from the ER, and yet it’s left her feeling just as much tension in her shoulders. She shakes that off too.

Trinity smirks at the conversation, Samantha loosely reminding her of Dana in temperament.

She catches up a few seconds later when she hears blood clot in the skull.

“Oh shit, that’s serious. Like- serious serious. I’m still getting on this right?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet in some combination of nerves and anticipation.

Despite her ranging moods, Dr. Choi remained her same level of light yet serious. Trinity thinks, loosely, that Choi should look into being an attending herself. She has the mien.

"Absolutely Doctor Santos, this is a wonderful learning experience," Choi hummed to herself, patting the younger physician's shoulder with a gentle hand.

"I've met with Mr.Wang before, admittedly outside of the hospital. I'm not sure he remembers me, had a thing with his son a while back," she explains with an eased expression," but he was a nice man."

She lightly knocks on the door, its label '16' dark and bold. With a gruff, she opens the door. In the bed, an elderly man, not too pleased as Samatha had mentioned.

"Good morning Mr.Wang, my name is Doctor Choi, I will be your surgeon today," she spoke, gesturing to the younger doctor who observed," and this is my boss." Her tone held banter, an obvious joke.

"All jokes aside, we will be the ones working on you today. How are you feeling?"

The old man eyes the pair, narrowing his eyes before replying a gruff," my head hurts," in some foreign language. The surgeon nods before gesturing to the younger physician once more," have any questions for him, Doctor Santos?"

Trinity subconsciously leaned into the touch before pulling away.

Meeting Mr. Wang was… interesting. He was gruff and old and angry but didn’t set off the usual signals Trinity felt around men. It made her feel weirdly more responsible then she’d normally feel for a patient like him, like he was one of the only good men around so she had to help keep him around. Being called the boss, she sarcastically jingles the information tag clip on her pants.

Trinity knew a few languages herself (English, Tagolog, Illongo, Wikang Filipino, some Spanish and a lot of ASL so that way Harlow would never happen again) but she couldn’t tell what the man was saying.

Biting her lip, Trinity offered a “Hello, I’m gonna try to make that head pain go away. Do you have any history of previous head injury? Are you taking any medications? Any medical conditions we don’t know about?”

She then turns to Dr. Choi, “What language is he speaking exactly?”

Choi let out something between a chuckle and sigh before answering, "he is speaking Mandarin, their family spoke a specific dialect, but that I am not sure of."

Her answer was honest, her own thin eyebrows furrowed as the man seemed to think his answer over, a thin finger tapping his wrinkled chin. Right as he seemed to think of something, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing important," he answers, his accent heavy, earning a sharp eye from the surgeon.

With a singular beat, he opened up, even slightly-shoulders sagging before he finally answered, " I fell a while back... fell asleep after."

Choi nodded once, then twice over, asking the elder if she could see his bag. The elder handed over the bag easily, allowing the doctor to fish out his medications, sealed away in a plastic bag. Pulling the bag open with a few satisfying pops, she hummed to herself," blood pressure medications, and uhm- aha, here."

Lifting a small bottle, its innards nearly depleted," he is taking Plavix." She turned to face the man once more," why do you take blood thinners, Mr.Wang?"

The older man seemed to scowl ever slightly before answering with an annoyed tone," my doctor told me to."

Choi furrowed her brow once more, tapping her badge against a nearby computer, looking over his documents.

"Aha, I see here, you were admitting for a coronary artery bypass graft not long ago. Was Doctor Damaraju your surgeon?"

The male only nodded in response, seemingly annoyed by the mention of the surgeon.

"Okay Mr.Wang, Doctor Santos and I are going to do our own little examination before pre-op gets your prepped, is that okay?"

A beat, followed by the elders nod.

"M'kay," the doctor takes a seat nearby on a stool," does your head hurt, Mr.Wang?" Another beat, followed by the elders sigh.

"Nausea or Vomiting?"

"Both."

"Any seizure like activity listed in his chart, Santos?"

The doctor turns her head over her shoulder to face the younger doctor, the warm lights of the patient rooms highlighting her tall nose bridge, her head slightly tilted.

Trinity looks through his chart, papers ruffling. After a moment, her hand flattens and shakes in a so-so gesture.

“No epilepsy, but it seems like he’s had a fall in the past that gave him a seizure. Concussion. This could be related to second impact syndrome?” she ended with a shrug.

Trinity, at the nod of Dr. Choi, asks a few more questions and performs a few small, on-sight tests. About to ask her senior what she thinks of the symptoms, Mr. Wang’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Trinity barely catches him before he falls, setting his limp body down as it starts twitching like the beginning of convulsion. She moves from him then, pushing back the gurney he was previously sitting on, along with the rooms 2 plastic chairs and 1 rolling chair.

“Time elapsed, 10 seconds,” she mutters, doing her best to mentally track the seizures timespan.

The surgeon, taken aback by the sudden situation, bends to the patients level and calls out to him. Retracting her pen light to check for pupilary reactiveness immediately. Looking to the younger doctor, she simply commands, "go get Samantha for me, Santos, please."

With a quick, one-two motion, she taps the shoulder of the man the moment he stops seizing. "Mr.Wang," she can hear in the distance, the nurses approaching with hurried steps from outside the room.

She shakes the man once more, her calm face a complete opposite of the scenario," when did you last take your blood thinners?"

The male groggily slurrs, earning the surgeon's pained expression,"four lorazepam, load one point five levetiracetam, prep DDAVP zero point three micrograms, and platelets. I would like a stat repeat CT, then have him intubated."

The surgeon, alongside the nurses, helped the man back into his gurney; the nurses taking over by the doctors commands.

"Santos," the elder doctor gestured towards the door, soon following her out.

"10 seconds, did you catch the time," she sighs out with a little laugh.

Trinity scampers off, returning back with Samantha in toe and quickly responding.

“I was there for about 15 seconds and came back…” Trinity looked at the clock on the wall, squinting. She could never read them right, but this was important. She made her best guess. “Uh- 2 minutes later? So about 2 minutes and 20 seconds if we account for extra time.”

Trinity looks a little pale. “Are- are we still operating or…? Was that seizure CVA? Is he having a stroke?”

"What we are going to do," she starts, taking a few long strides out of the room and over to a nearby work station and logging in," is send him to repeat imaging. With the medications, he should be stable for the time being. The hematoma is likely causing the intracranial pressure to increase, thus the stroke-like-symptoms and or seizures. My concern is, with the hematoma's placement, his slurred speech isn't the precursor to aphasia."

She explains, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her eye, sitting down on the stool and typing away-likely placing orders.

She pauses, looking up at Santos for a split moment, the sterile lights highlighting the obvious concern of the younger doctor. Her lips, plump with a few obvious bite marks-subconsciously placed, curled into a small smile before she spoke.

"Good work, Doctor Santos. You acted very quickly," her eyes etched to the screen once more, pointer finger tapping away at the mouse.

Now, out of the room, where the space was open,the energy seemed to diffuse slowly. Choi's shoulders slowly sagged as she released a slow breath, "Lord, I need a coffee."

The older female digs for a few moments in her bag before placing thick-black frames on her face, blinking away, then facing the younger. "What do you say, boss, want to go for a coffee?"

Santos blushed lightly at the compliment, not used to recieving such. Instictively going to curl at her stethoscope and realizing it’s not there, she’s left wringing her hands around nothing.

“Are you sure we can leave this gu- You know what? Sure. Yeah. Coffee’s good.”

She shakes her head lightly with a small huff.

“We both know you’re the boss here.”

Thinking about it for much longer makes her snort.

“You know, this has been the weirdest thing to happen to me so far, and there’s not even malpractice involved! I could stay here a while!” Trinity is, a little unfortunately, only half joking.

The older chuckled in response, "the patient will take a second to get to radiology, get his scans, radiology sometimes takes their time regardless."

The elder offered a small shrug, signing off the computer with a click," I do suppose, you guys downstairs never get the time to even touch the café on the third floor?"

She pushes her frames up subconsciously, standing up with a long stretch, yawning softly as doing so.

"Back in my day, the ER had an actual break area for students and interns, had a mandatory break for everyone," she hummed, "of course I was never down there then, but they all seemed a little happier."

With a soft yet firm hand to the others back she grinned," I'll take you to the café, don't worry about the cost, the hospital actually covers the physician's purchases... if you didn't know that already."

Trinity was honestly a little confounded. Not only had she never been to the cafe on the third floor, she didn’t know there WAS one. The only thing she knew about was the patient and loved ones cafeteria, which she doesn’t usually go into unless she can tell Whitaker’s hungry, since whenever a doctor goes in there they get swarmed with “Is he okay?” or “Will she make it?” or “I love them!” or “He’s just a kid” or “How much longer will this fucking take?!” or—

You get the idea.

“Nope. Never been,” she eventually settles on. Neuro is much more cushy than she thought it would be. Then again, it’s also terrifying. She’s heard stories of 24 hour or longer surgeries, on your feet with no breaks until the patient was cured because good shit takes time or something.

Trinity found herself surprised again. “Seriously?! You’re kidding, how did they ever stabilize patients with mandatory breaks? Must’ve been hella slow or hella staffed for that…”

Finally, she nods. Not that she was hungry, but it was a lovely thought. Trinity lived in the spaces between bouts of nausea, headaches, chills, and fainting spells. Never hunger or thirst, really, unless it got too bad. Still, she didn’t want to stress out the older woman, so a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody.

"They used to have a 'stacked' schedule, so one set of students and doctors would leave and the others would cover, and so forth. So some would break midway through the shifts for thirty to forty-five minutes, while another set would cover, and they would trade off," she explained, leading the younger through a set of double doors and eventually to a staff elevator.

Once the door closed, her nimble fingers pressed the button to the third floor subconsciously, looking to the younger as if to read her.

"Santos, may I offer a bit of advice?" She started, awaiting her answer with a bit of hidden anxiety.

"Nothing bad, I promise," she follows up, as if she noticed how seriously she sounded. The only sound filling up the seconds worth of space being the 'kick' sensation of the elevator followed by its comforting hum.

"I was in your shoes-or similar ones, not long ago. And I-," for once she almost seemed anxious.

"I think, you have the capabilities of being a wonderful physician. You are young, impressionable, and so hungry to learn. I've noticed how closely you watch," her voice was slightly rushed, the elevator stalling for a moment before the doors slowly opened.

"I think, Doctor Santos, you should allow yourself a bit more space. Take up more space with confidence, if you catch my drift," she laughs almost awkwardly before muttering something regarding how cheesy she sounds.

Allowing the younger to take the first step out, following suit," It's sappy. It is, but please assure your name is known. We have a saying, us korean folk."

She pauses, taking a step forward and linking a friendly arm with the younger before speaking, her words curled around her tongue-foreign and warm.

"오늘 걷지 않으면 내일 뛰어야 한다 " she speaks with a certain sing-song tone she used once or twice before.

"It means,' If you don't walk today, you must run tomorrow,' just- effort and confidence, take initiative, take up space, Trinity," her words were warm, much like the many tones of her mentors.

Trinity furrowed her brows before she started laughing. “Wow, this is the first time someone’s told me to be more confident! Usually it’s all, ‘Dial it down, Santos’” she says, lowering her voice in a facsimile of some coworker.

She hopes that the humor would stop the blush of being complimented - cared for, in any way, really - by Dr. Choi, but it didn’t.

Noticing a tense silence in her wake made her realize she’d actually have to take the advice seriously, that her normal coping mechanisms of humor and deflection wouldn’t work.

“Thank you, really, you-you’re really kind. I’m fine though, okay?”

Trinity unconsciously starts giggling again. “Jamie was right, this is your second inspirational speech today! You really do make a lot of them”

The surgeon's face drops only for a split moment, looking with the younger woman with an unreadable expression, eyes drawing a thin line between hers before she paused. Her arm unraveled before placing either hands on the other shoulder, hands equal part warm and chilled, likely the atmosphere. She held her there for a moment.

Her eyes held the woman for only a moment longer before she clicked her lips, a makeshift tsk between her lips before she spoke," you must promise me."

She starts, stoic expression lightening as she pulls her left hand away from the shoulder of the younger girl, extending a pinky finger towards the other.

"I may be old and partly senile," she jokes playfully, "but I do mean every word. You have great potential, don't doubt yourself."

Her laugh soon lit the hallway, using her right hand to cup the others' hand the moment their pinkies lace, wrapping their connected hands with the chill blanket of her hand.

"You mustn't forget this moment. Memory is a hard thing to regain, you'know?"

The contact made Trinity tense at first, but she slowly settled into feeling warmth at the gesture. She hasn’t been touched kindly in so long, hasn’t let anybody for fear of it becoming less-than-kind.

Trinity blinked, something in her heart that was once empty filling. Maybe it was support, or hope? Either way, it was enough of a feeling to make her say, eyes wide:

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

A beat goes by.

“Genuinely, thank you.”

They make their way to the café after that, and Trinity doesn’t feel hungry but she doesn’t feel nauseous either, which is how she ends up sat in a somewhat cozy, somewhat chilly corner of the space across from her senior, sipping on a chocolate milk and eating a banana with some saltines; she’d normally opt for a redbull with a snickers but something about the soft atmosphere made her feel like she didn’t need them.

Sitting with her own coffee, it steams, rising into the warmth of the small-cozy café. The small place, hidden in the corner of the third floor, tucked away from the general public; doctors, nurses, and techs all sat around bantering. The booths were clad with withered leather, slightly worn on the sides likely due to the hands of many past staff members, none the less comfortable. It was heaven in comparison to the chill surgical halls, warm lit, and singing with slow jazz. In front of the surgeon sat a small pastry, not yet ate.

The surgeon stirred her warm drink, its caramel color swirling with foamy broth, her eyes trained downwards-admiring its warmth. Past her head, portraits of older staff members, some of which are easily recognizable; the same headshots displayed in the emergency department downstairs.

"You know-," Choi started, still slowly stirring her steamy drink," you could've gotten more. I don't mind."

Finally looking up to the younger woman, her eyes looming between her eyes for a moment before sitting up straight and fixing her posture, a thimble finger pushing her frames up the bridge of her nose.

"Tell me about yourself, Trinity. I've done all the talking thus far, and we have a bit of time."

Trinity scoffs, staring at her chosen food. It already seems like too much. She knows logically (she’s literally a doctor) she doesn’t eat enough, but something about being in gymnastics for all those years tricked her into her current diet. As it stands, Trinity has nothing to do but shrug and say “I’ll eat more at home, Dr. Choi.”

The statement makes Trinity pause.

“I… what do you wanna know exactly?”

The surgeon blinked once or twice, choosing to drop the conversation of food in favor of knowing about the younger doctor. She brought her cup to her lips, successfully stamping her cool-toned lipstick on its rim before humming, satisfied by its warm.

"Who are you outside of work, your interest, things of that nature," she slowly spoke after. Though typically, these topics aren't recommended for coworkers regardless of their departments, she found herself curious of the younger, seemingly stubborn younger doctor. She eyed the younger for a few moments, before continuing.

"Just so we can both loosen up some, I'm sure you get tired of Aristotle preaching in your ear," she giggles slightly, referencing her own philosophical speeches.

#🩹#the pitt #the pitt roleplay #the pitt rp #the pitt oc #ooc: it is sososo okay #promise!

Day two of my new medications while at work (ER Traige today), I am tasting colors and shit

Update, thank god I did not drive home from work. I fell asleep HARD

#🍠#muscle relaxers do in fact relax your muscles.#i am not mentally present in this moment #but hey im getting paid #OOC

Day two of my new medications while at work (ER Traige today), I am tasting colors and shit

#🍠#muscle relaxers do in fact relax your muscles.#i am not mentally present in this moment #but hey im getting paid #OOC

Doctor Choi stood outside of the large double doors, which separated the hospital from the surgical space, directly over the bright red ‘STERILE AREA’ line, which further isolated the cold surgical halls from the bustling hospital. Unlike what she's normally seen in, she is dressed in dark crimson, almost wine colored scrubs, her nice embellished neatly on her left breast.

Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun, a matching crimson bag at her side, likely consisting of her loupes and scrub caps. Despite her specialty and its ability to cover your face at all times, she wore light makeup, successfully making her look around the age of the young doctor approaching her. She seemed to light up, looking at the younger doctor's badge reel.

“You must be Doctor Santos,” she extends a cleanly manicured hand,” my name is Destiny Choi. Feel free to just call me Destiny. Oh-.”

She cut herself off, momentarily digging into her bag to pull out a clipboard, a few papers held neatly under the metal bar. “Here we are, the necessary release forms. You just need to sign and date..”

She handed the clipboard over, pulling a pen from an exterior pocket of her bag to hand to the young doctor.

“You mentioned wanting to jump into the cases, yeah? Today, we have a few scheduled, eight to be exact, six of which are craniotomies. The others are spine cases, those tend to be a bit difficult to watch in on because we're standing over the patient, but if you are able to stay long- by all means,” she paused to purse her lips, offering the younger a smile,” please do. It's a bit of a personal formality, but I also had planned a lunch mid way through the day for my team. You are welcome to come along.”

‐-------------------------------------------------

[ @trinsantos04 ]

Trinity looks at Dr. Choi slightly longer than she needs to, feeling oddly underdressed. Her hair is in a tight, mid length ponytail held up by a black rubber-band, sans the little tendrils of baby hair that jut in front of her ears and forehead; her outfit consists of navy scrubs, a gray long-sleeved undershirt with a band logo on it (she hates the scrubs’ texture to much to go without one, but her more professional undershirts have yet to be washed), her well-loved white sneakers, and some plain stud earrings; her makeup is nonexistent at this point, being just light eyeliner after the sweat of her previous shift removed just about all her foundation and most of her blush. Normally, she’d fit right into the ER, but something about the surgeons of the PTMC whisper “elegant” even under pressure, something Trinity isn’t sure she’d ever be able to compare to.

Trinity, slightly off kilter, takes the pen (PTMC’s best ballpoint, as per the dark logo) and the clipboard, skimming it lightly and signing off on a few perfunctory lines before taking Dr. Choi’s hand in her own non-manicured one (she’d get a manicure if she wasn’t such a nail-biter, but why waste the money otherwise?) for a stronger-than-what-is-probably-necessary handshake.

“Yes, I’d love to join a case! As many as possible, really. Sleep is for the weak,” she jokes lightly, realizing she should probably have more decorum. Nerves always makes her cocky as an overcorrection, and today is no different.

She blinks at the prospect of a lunch break, nonplussed but not unhappy at the idea.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll come to lunch. Didn’t realize you guys had scheduled breaks like that. Come to think of it, Pedes does too, so maybe the ER is just special.”

With that introduction, Trinity put her hands in her pockets, awaiting further instruction. She can’t say she’s been in the surgery hallways more than twice or thrice (courtesy of some impromptu teaching by Walsh, Garcia, or Shamsi) so she’s unfamiliar with the navigation of it all.

Doctor Choi stiffles out a small laugh at the prospect, gently patting the younger's shoulder with a polite disagreement," sleep in important, the days are long up here, but I know its just as equal down under."

She paused before thinking of an answer," Most specialties do mandate a lunch break. You guys tend to be every which way constantly. That's probably why. Now- normally, we don't go out for lunch, but today is my scrub techs birthday, so it's a special occasion, I'm paying."

Turning sharply on her heels, she faces a large ScrubX machine, inputting some digits to dispense scrubs; then facing the younger doc.

"Your scrub size? We have to wear surgical scrubs here for obvious reasons," she hummed, soon dispensing the scrubs of the younger and handing her the bundle.

"Follow me," she continued, walking close to a door promptly labeled: female locker room. After putting in more random codes, buzzing them in. The locker room was as expected, rows of small grey lockers that lined the floor and walls, disrupted by a small bench and a curtain.

"Feel free to change in here. Beyond the curtain is a few bathroom stalls, if that makes you a little more comfortable. Warning, I would keep on your underscrubs beneath these surgical ones. It gets very out there," she hummed, opening her locker. Long lashes trained downwards as she placed her bag into the small space.

Then, looking up to the younger, still crouched and smiling, "You can leave the clipboard on the bench. We will turn in the forms whenever we are dressed."

Trinity nods lightly, “well Happy Birthday to them.”

Trinity always goes a size up in her scrubs, despite regulations, because any other size would have her squirming all shift in discomfort (probably leading to one of the annoying breakdowns she has at her place sometimes) Luckily for her, Dr. Choi doesn’t question her motioning for a Large rather than a Medium.

She lightly huffs at the warning, a small smile playing at her face. “Aye aye, cap’n,” Trinity mumbles before leaving the clipboard on one of the midline seats of the locker room and making a beeline to a stall.

(Dr. Choi isn’t going to know about anything on Trinitys first day. She has a chance to make her impression as someone sane, ready. She’s not gonna mess it up. So, stall it is.)

Trinity emerges from the bathroom stall wearing light blue scrubs instead of the normal dark-navy, though her undershirt still lies beneath it as a precaution. With a sarcastic salute, flat hand grazing her own forehead, she remarks, “Ready for duty, Dr. Choi!”

The elder looks over to the younger doctor with a small laugh, humored by her salute, now appropriately dressed. Her crimson scrubs were replaced by the same hospital scrubs, slightly too long, as per her cuffed scrub pants. Her hair, which was in an organized, now tucked into a scrub cap decorated with small felines.

Doctor Choi opened her locker further for the younger to place her belongings in with her own, "feel free to grab a scrub cap, I washed them all yesterday." Watching the younger females stare for a moment longer, she placed herself down on bench, slowly applying surgical shoe covers over her pristine white shoes. Waiting a moment longer, she stood stretching slowly, "No need for your stethoscope back there. The anesthesiologist handles the patients' vitals and whatnot."

After the other's belongings were put away, she bent to her level, closing her locker. "The code is seven, five, six, four, three, two," she looked to the younger doctor with a soft smile," if in the case you need to leave."

She stood, brushing her knees off before grabbing the clipboard that was rested nearby, tucking it under her axilla; heading to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, the same choreography she practiced every day.

"When we are in the surgical space, feel free to ask questions, even the silly ones," she opened the heavy door which kept the locker room seperated from the breakroom," after you, Doctor Santos."

Trinity puts on a scrub cap, feeling a little bit like an egg in the process, as she tries to remember the code.

7…6, 4? 5, 2? This totally won’t bite me later, she remarks in her head.

Feeling a little wounded, she puts her stethoscope in the locker next. It’s a nice pressure on her neck, an even nicer fidget, so it’ll be a little uncomfortable to not have it around, but she’s too excited about the upcoming surgery to really care.

“Okay, so you’ve mentioned an anesthesiologist and a scrub tech so far. No stupid questions right? So, who’s everyone on the team and what are their roles?”

Trinity let’s put a breath as she leaves the locker room. Hopefully, she doesn’t fuck this all up before she’s even begun.

The elder hummed in response," Jamie is out Scrub tech, he does as any scrub tech does, hands me what I need and actively assists when necessary. Suctioning and whatnot. Normally, my anesthesiologist is Doctor Sighn, but that's subject to change - she's on maternity leave. My nurse circulator, Laura, does a load during my cases: documents the case, corrects charges, gets supplies when necessary, etcetera." Exiting the breakroom, she stops by a table, clumsily taking a papertowel to a muffin then handing it over to the younger."

"There is a team of neurophysiologists who run EEGs during cases,they're normally contacted by the hospital. Thus, I'm not sure who will be here today. Normally, Gloria and Ben take my cases, but of course, that isn't always guaranteed," she hums, grabbing her own muffin and snacking despite just washing her hands.

"And imaging, we normally have someone from Radiology in a room at all times, especially during our reconstructive cases or spinals," she explained further," or if we need hardware places, especially in those cases. Again, no guaranteed names."

Soon after finishing her impromptu breakfast, she washed her hands in a sink nearby, drying them with papertowels. Walking to the door and placing her back flushed to the wood, she opened the door, allowing the younger doctor through.

The surgical atmosphere was strange in its own regard, so still but at the same time chaotic. People likely scrub techs, pushing large metal boxes around. Large machines lined the halls, some recognizable, C-arms... others not so much. The surgeon slowly removed herself from the door, gesturing the younger doctor forward.

"First things first, submitting your sheets, then we can head to the first case," she hummed, "oh- one other thing, you aren't pregnant or concerned for pregnancy... there's a lot of radiation involved at times. We do protect ourselves with lead vests, but it is something my boss encouraged me to ask."

Trinity listens with rapt attention, taking only 1 or 2 bites meager of the muffin before throwing it out to wash her hands. Jamie, Sighn, Laura, Gloria, Ben. Names to remember.

…she’ll eat later, she tells herself.

One thing Trinity notices is how much more clinical the environment is. Much less screaming, shouting, and general chaos than the ER or even Pedes. Well, that’s to be expected when all your patients are drugged or asleep.

The pregnancy questions throws her for a loop. “I- no, I’m gay,” Trinity says before she can stop herself. “I’m not looking for a baby any time soon,” she tries again with a little more tact.

Feeling heat rise to her face, she asks, “Where am I submitting these? Is there a formal meeting like in Pedes?”

The surgeon only nodded with a polite smile to the other's admission, "No shame in that." She then shakes her head, removing the clipboard from her axilla, leading the younger physician to the nurses station. With a gentle hand, she pulled a pen from a nearby cup, signing off on the document before releasing the paper from its binds, then placing it in a filing cabinet nearby.

"No formal meeting for us, fortunately enough, us surgeons normally just sorta show up whenever we are needed. We are responsible for going over our cases the day of or prior to the case scheduled time," she hummed, looking over to two large screens: the patients name and MRN, the time of the case, the details of the case, as well as extra supplies listed. She read over the blocks in the chart, walking forward to tap the screen, specifically on a light pink block," This will be our first case. No worries, the nurse goes over all of this whenever we are in the room. "

She took a retreating step to fish out surgical boot covers from a nearby wire shelf, handing Santos a pair before applying her own over shoes (which were already covered). Then retreaving two surgical bouffants caps to place over their scrub caps, only laughing to herself with an appropriate, "These always make me feel like a lunch lady."

Then, I took a quick moment to double-check herself, and then the other, she nodded," Are you ready, Doctor Santos?"

She takes in the information mostly silently, a series of nods indicating she’s paying attention. She chuckles though, at the description of the covers, before putting on her own.

“Feels very ‘Dexter’ to me. Am I gonna find your patient tied to the table with ceran wrap?”

Trinity assesses herself, carding away the beginnings of a headache as she pulls a small strand of hair behind her ear. Finally, she bobs her head once in agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

"Tied to the table, yes sorta, but ceran wrap is a stretch... normally it patient straps," she jokes in return. Leading the other forward and down a long hall.

"My first case today is an endoscopic assisted pituitary mass resection, so unfortunately, not too much to do on your behalf, but it should take less than an hour. The next case is a subdural hematoma resection, far more fun. But first thing's first, as always, handwashing," she instructed, leading the doctor to a handwash station.

Her moves were choreographed, practiced over many years of training and scrubbing into surgery, washing her hands up to her elbows, and gesturing for the other to do the same. The water was cold, freezing almost, against her pale skin.

After she was finished, instead of drying her hands, she placed her back against a small-windowed door; pushing it open for the other into a small vacuumed sealed room. Then, once again, into the surgical room.

The room itself was large, about the size of two trauma bays, but occupied with large machines. The anesthesiologist, covered by a surgical drape nearby, is accompanied by two large machines used to maintain homeostasis. Behind the machines, an even larger one, its wires tangled on the floor; a large screen with handles dangling off the top. Large-silver shelves lined two walls, filled to the brim with supplies, surgical tables draped appropriately with each and every tool placed near the patients bed, a tall male standing between them and the patient. A C-arm was placed against the wall near the main entrance of the room, which they hadn't entered from. The circulator sitting nearby, likely documenting the enterance of the surgeon. Lastly, a table that was not occupied, which held surgical gowns, and some gloves.

Doctor Choi promptly cleared her throat, grabbing two masks before handing Doctor Santos one. Applying it before breaking past more red lines, which she failed to mention to the other. "Good morning, team. I wanted to introduce everyone to our surprise guest. This is Doctor Santos from the ED. She will be following us today during our cases."

Trinity washed her hands up to her elbows an followed, a little duckish, to the room.

Perking up at the mention of something more hands on, she says, “Sick! I mean, it’s sad, but also… sick!”

As she entered the room, she tried not to gawk at all the supplies, making sure to not touch anything as she scoots past the entryway and lets the door close.

“Hi,” she says with a little wave and a slightly impatient face, eager to see how everything works as she puts her mask on, “thank you so much for letting me shadow.”

She watches as Choi gloves up, almost enamored at the smooth workings of the OR. They’re like a well oiled machine, and she’s a brand new cog with no grease to her name.

Under the harsh, bright lights, her eyes wide with curiosity squint a little, pupils miosing to pinpricks. Her heart thrums in excitement.

“Where should I be standing, Doctor? So I don’t get in your way.”

With the help of the scrub tech, the scrub gown was applied to Choi's front, she took a few strides over to the doctor whilst talking," for the time being, I'm going to have you in a corner so we can get everything situated, after then I will move you a little closer so you can have a better view of the scape. Can you, very carefully, help me with the velcro of my gown- the neck?"

After the slightly trembling hands of the other closed the neckline of the gown, she then hands her the card connected to the gown," Hold steadily, don't let it go now." Her voice was soft, instructing her with practiced patience, which likely came with years of experience. She, after the doctor grasped the tag, made a full 180° turn, pulling the fabric free from the tag and tying it with ease.

"Very good," she encouraged, then having the scrub tech help her glove up, finally walking towards the patient and standing near the draped woman's head before the nurse took a stand.

Laura, the nurse, paused for one moment, the patient lying draped in the surgical clamps, head hanging off the bed- and focused upwards, intubated appropriately. Laura took a moment, clicking slowly at the keyboard of the small monitor tucked in the corner of the room near the entrance, promptly calling the time out. Doctor Choi focused on her nurse, alongside the techs who all looked to the elder, who began to speak over the low hum of the many machines that surrounded the surgical field.

“Time out called at 10: 15. This is forty five year old Marrisa McAllister, who presented to the emergency department at approximately seven hundred this morning with a complaint of sudden-acute photophobia which occurred forty five minutes before initial presentation to the emergency department. Per resident doctor, who documents the physical examination,’ patient exam displays significant difficulties reading, with an visual acuity score rapidly decreasing across the span of the visit, leading to sudden visual loss of bilateral eyes at approximately 0715. Patients in clear distress and notes irregularities with at home HCG testing despite a medical history of hysterectomy. HCG quantitative displays a clear result of 28,000 as ordered by the attending physician. The patient also reports of galactorrhea, that began approximately a week prior. The patient initially believed to be in response to new contraceptives, which she began about three weeks prior to her visit. CT head with and without contrast were ordered, with findings of a seemingly malignant mass-like growth to the pituitary glands. MRI, appropriately ordered by Doctor Choi, displayed similar findings. Patient NPO since 2100 last night. Documented past medical history of: hypertension, hyperlipidemia, thyroid disorder of unspecified origins, and hysterectomy. No other documented history relevant to today's case. No religious stipulations were noted in her chart.”

Doctor Choi nodded, subtly adjusting the head clamps to face the nose upwards even further, using a small stool to roll around for better visualization. Her sterile gloves, double-gloved to prevent any breakage, adjusted the endoscope which was handed to her by the scrub tech on the other side of the patient. The surgeon took a moment, pausing to look towards the doctor who was awkwardly placed in the corner, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Don't break the sterile field, come around here next to me,” she instructed, speaking over the music that occupied the room's space,” so you can see the screen here.”

After shakily helping her senior with the gown and focusing on the patient history, Trinity moved - carefully - to where she was directed and found herself nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. Choi as she turned to look at the screen. She couldn’t see anything but regular skin for now, but that would change soon enough.

“So… how do you handle this? What’s the procedure?”

She can’t say that she knows much about any procedure that happened around here, but the ER required her to be well-rounded so she understood most everything she said except for any plans of fixing the matter. She felt out of her depth, but not unwelcome, just deeply curious.

Whatever the procedure may be, it seemingly must be done quickly, because everyone started up on their jobs before Trinitys question was answered. Orders muttered, tools transferring hands as she can only watch in benign confusion. She stares at the screen then to Choi’s face, then to the patient, then back to the screen in a precipitous motion, gleaning about as much as she could without further instruction.

It seems minimally invasive, by her eyes, but something must’ve gone wrong because she suddenly heard the voices go a little bit tenser, screen filling with blood.

Trinity stays quiet. The patient matters more than her education in this moment.

Without much noticeable concern from the elder, speaking softly whilst simultaneously directing the practically microscopic tools within the cranial space of the patient. Her eyes trained onto the screen, a brief moment of burning tissues, the bleeding coming to a halt.

"To answer your question," Choi started," in Transsphenoid surgery, we either use a microscope or endoscope. In this case, I opted to use the endoscope and a curette to extract the mass like structure on this patients pituitary gland."

Choi briefly looks over her shoulder to the doc, offering a small smile (as seen by her eyes over the mask and between the loupes.) She continued, looking to the screen, grasping hold of the mass successfully without much force- and was successfully able to remove it.

"As far as how I handle it personally, I know this job in particular, with the brain- is highly intimidating..," she trails on," I trained for many years, know the ins-and-outs, I recognize the possible injury which can occur. A big part of my job.." She pauses, pulling the tiny tools from the nasal canal, holding up the small mass to show the doctor before her.

"A big part of my job is recognizing that, no matter the outcome, simply having the courage to appear daily... is the hardest part. We change lives, regardless of specialities. But sometimes, it's okay to be scared, uncertain of the outcome. But have there not be individuals like us, there would be no solution for the souls who lack the knowledge of. "

Across the table, Jamie snickered, rolling his eyes ever slightly before shaking his head. Doctor Choi giving these philosophical speeches wasn't out of the ordinary it seemed.

Trinity stared, enraptured, at the globule in front of her.

“Makes sense,” Trinity mutters, still staring as her tightened shoulders relax some.

She snorts, “Gonna put that on a poster, Doc?”

She watched as the case slowly finished up, taking mental notes on the procedure and carding them for later. She knows she’ll be staying awake until her next shift researching the hell out of what she just saw.

As the patient gets moved to the next room, Trinity takes notice of the collective, soft sighs emerging from the surgeons. She gets it; she’s tired and she wasn’t even the one performing the surgery.

Still, the experience left her oddly invigorated. She also feels weirdly comforted. Robby would’ve never given a speech like that (anymore) and neither would Abbot. Al-hashimi maybe, if she was more acclimated to the Pitt.

“You give pep-talks often?”

Jamie cut in momentarily with a sarcastic snort," only every day." His face, hidden beneath the sterile mask, followed the patient. Doctor Choi only gave a response.

"In this specialty, you most literally crack open people, play inside of them. You are tasked with something both delicate and morbid in its own regard. It's important to keep good team morale," she strips off her gloves with a practiced pinch and role," otherwise you can easily fall into psychosis."

She pauses, using her naked hands to strip off the gown, then her mask. Her nose bridge was slightly reddened due to the pressure of the mask, soft freckles ever so slightly seen under the surgical lights, "we are all human in the end, and are not immune to the consequences of what we do. Santos, you and I alike, all health professionals, are the minority of people who can handle these things. Our health and mental health, especially, are important."

The surgeon took a lazy step forward, using the same manicured hand on the others back, lightly leading her out of the room as the staff began to clean up.

"Nothing too bad so far, any other questions, if not- we can stop by pre-op and visit with our next patient."

Trinity’s eyebrows furrow, “Psychosis? Really? I’ve never heard of a doctor going into psychosis because of work.”

The mental health conversation made her huff a little. The OR really is different from the ER, a significant amount. Down there, there’s no caring how “sane” you are when you have to get the patient stable. Up heart is stressful in its own way, but there’s room to breathe.

Still, something about this is much more… vulnerable. Seeing people’s organs and internals so clinically, purposefully, feels like a new naked.

Resisting the urge to rub her reddened nose bridge, Trinity nods.

“I can see how they would, though.”

Trinity finds herself zoning out, staring at the freckles of her seniors face. She feels oddly fuzzy. She doesn’t know why even, since she didn’t do anything in there, she just watched.

She blinks, almost languidly, and mumbles, “No questions. Let’s go to pre-op.”

"It does happen. Our job is often described as grotesque like autopsy or murder, more so when you spend hours inside of someone and they end up passing regardless. Our brain, in combination with societal norms, often convinces us of simply false things," she explains, gesturing for the younger doctor to follow.

She hit a silver button on the wall after a few long moments of adventure, opening up to a set of rooms, somewhat like the patient rooms of the ED- but seemed to lack the intense amount of chos the ED was popular for. There were at least thirty or so rooms, some occupied by patients, others not. Nurses weren't rushing around. Instead, they do their tasks at comfortable speeds.

Turning a corner, Choi faced towards the nurses station. There sat an older lady, out of date beehive on top her head, red frames barely hanging off her slightly hooked nose. "Samantha," Choi nearly sang to the nurse, who offered a small gruff before sarcastic singing back a," Choi."

"Where is my next patient," the surgeon began," Mr. Wang?"

Her lashed eyes grazed over the board posterior to the lady, narrowing over the patient's names before the lady spoke, red lips pursed in a near snarl," he is in room 16. Not in a great mood."

Choi offered a side ways smile, nearly a smirk," well, if I had a giant blood clot in my skull paired with the worst headache on the planet... I would be pretty peeved, too."

The prospect of losing yourself over a job makes Trinity shutter. She tries not to think about it much longer, shaking her head like it would get rid of her thoughts, like her brain was an etch-a-sketch.

The rooms were almost calming, the white noise of moving carts and varied talking lulling her somewhat. This shift has been so different from the ER, and yet it’s left her feeling just as much tension in her shoulders. She shakes that off too.

Trinity smirks at the conversation, Samantha loosely reminding her of Dana in temperament.

She catches up a few seconds later when she hears blood clot in the skull.

“Oh shit, that’s serious. Like- serious serious. I’m still getting on this right?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet in some combination of nerves and anticipation.

Despite her ranging moods, Dr. Choi remained her same level of light yet serious. Trinity thinks, loosely, that Choi should look into being an attending herself. She has the mien.

"Absolutely Doctor Santos, this is a wonderful learning experience," Choi hummed to herself, patting the younger physician's shoulder with a gentle hand.

"I've met with Mr.Wang before, admittedly outside of the hospital. I'm not sure he remembers me, had a thing with his son a while back," she explains with an eased expression," but he was a nice man."

She lightly knocks on the door, its label '16' dark and bold. With a gruff, she opens the door. In the bed, an elderly man, not too pleased as Samatha had mentioned.

"Good morning Mr.Wang, my name is Doctor Choi, I will be your surgeon today," she spoke, gesturing to the younger doctor who observed," and this is my boss." Her tone held banter, an obvious joke.

"All jokes aside, we will be the ones working on you today. How are you feeling?"

The old man eyes the pair, narrowing his eyes before replying a gruff," my head hurts," in some foreign language. The surgeon nods before gesturing to the younger physician once more," have any questions for him, Doctor Santos?"

Trinity subconsciously leaned into the touch before pulling away.

Meeting Mr. Wang was… interesting. He was gruff and old and angry but didn’t set off the usual signals Trinity felt around men. It made her feel weirdly more responsible then she’d normally feel for a patient like him, like he was one of the only good men around so she had to help keep him around. Being called the boss, she sarcastically jingles the information tag clip on her pants.

Trinity knew a few languages herself (English, Tagolog, Illongo, Wikang Filipino, some Spanish and a lot of ASL so that way Harlow would never happen again) but she couldn’t tell what the man was saying.

Biting her lip, Trinity offered a “Hello, I’m gonna try to make that head pain go away. Do you have any history of previous head injury? Are you taking any medications? Any medical conditions we don’t know about?”

She then turns to Dr. Choi, “What language is he speaking exactly?”

Choi let out something between a chuckle and sigh before answering, "he is speaking Mandarin, their family spoke a specific dialect, but that I am not sure of."

Her answer was honest, her own thin eyebrows furrowed as the man seemed to think his answer over, a thin finger tapping his wrinkled chin. Right as he seemed to think of something, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing important," he answers, his accent heavy, earning a sharp eye from the surgeon.

With a singular beat, he opened up, even slightly-shoulders sagging before he finally answered, " I fell a while back... fell asleep after."

Choi nodded once, then twice over, asking the elder if she could see his bag. The elder handed over the bag easily, allowing the doctor to fish out his medications, sealed away in a plastic bag. Pulling the bag open with a few satisfying pops, she hummed to herself," blood pressure medications, and uhm- aha, here."

Lifting a small bottle, its innards nearly depleted," he is taking Plavix." She turned to face the man once more," why do you take blood thinners, Mr.Wang?"

The older man seemed to scowl ever slightly before answering with an annoyed tone," my doctor told me to."

Choi furrowed her brow once more, tapping her badge against a nearby computer, looking over his documents.

"Aha, I see here, you were admitting for a coronary artery bypass graft not long ago. Was Doctor Damaraju your surgeon?"

The male only nodded in response, seemingly annoyed by the mention of the surgeon.

"Okay Mr.Wang, Doctor Santos and I are going to do our own little examination before pre-op gets your prepped, is that okay?"

A beat, followed by the elders nod.

"M'kay," the doctor takes a seat nearby on a stool," does your head hurt, Mr.Wang?" Another beat, followed by the elders sigh.

"Nausea or Vomiting?"

"Both."

"Any seizure like activity listed in his chart, Santos?"

The doctor turns her head over her shoulder to face the younger doctor, the warm lights of the patient rooms highlighting her tall nose bridge, her head slightly tilted.

Trinity looks through his chart, papers ruffling. After a moment, her hand flattens and shakes in a so-so gesture.

“No epilepsy, but it seems like he’s had a fall in the past that gave him a seizure. Concussion. This could be related to second impact syndrome?” she ended with a shrug.

Trinity, at the nod of Dr. Choi, asks a few more questions and performs a few small, on-sight tests. About to ask her senior what she thinks of the symptoms, Mr. Wang’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Trinity barely catches him before he falls, setting his limp body down as it starts twitching like the beginning of convulsion. She moves from him then, pushing back the gurney he was previously sitting on, along with the rooms 2 plastic chairs and 1 rolling chair.

“Time elapsed, 10 seconds,” she mutters, doing her best to mentally track the seizures timespan.

The surgeon, taken aback by the sudden situation, bends to the patients level and calls out to him. Retracting her pen light to check for pupilary reactiveness immediately. Looking to the younger doctor, she simply commands, "go get Samantha for me, Santos, please."

With a quick, one-two motion, she taps the shoulder of the man the moment he stops seizing. "Mr.Wang," she can hear in the distance, the nurses approaching with hurried steps from outside the room.

She shakes the man once more, her calm face a complete opposite of the scenario," when did you last take your blood thinners?"

The male groggily slurrs, earning the surgeon's pained expression,"four lorazepam, load one point five levetiracetam, prep DDAVP zero point three micrograms, and platelets. I would like a stat repeat CT, then have him intubated."

The surgeon, alongside the nurses, helped the man back into his gurney; the nurses taking over by the doctors commands.

"Santos," the elder doctor gestured towards the door, soon following her out.

"10 seconds, did you catch the time," she sighs out with a little laugh.

Trinity scampers off, returning back with Samantha in toe and quickly responding.

“I was there for about 15 seconds and came back…” Trinity looked at the clock on the wall, squinting. She could never read them right, but this was important. She made her best guess. “Uh- 2 minutes later? So about 2 minutes and 20 seconds if we account for extra time.”

Trinity looks a little pale. “Are- are we still operating or…? Was that seizure CVA? Is he having a stroke?”

"What we are going to do," she starts, taking a few long strides out of the room and over to a nearby work station and logging in," is send him to repeat imaging. With the medications, he should be stable for the time being. The hematoma is likely causing the intracranial pressure to increase, thus the stroke-like-symptoms and or seizures. My concern is, with the hematoma's placement, his slurred speech isn't the precursor to aphasia."

She explains, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her eye, sitting down on the stool and typing away-likely placing orders.

She pauses, looking up at Santos for a split moment, the sterile lights highlighting the obvious concern of the younger doctor. Her lips, plump with a few obvious bite marks-subconsciously placed, curled into a small smile before she spoke.

"Good work, Doctor Santos. You acted very quickly," her eyes etched to the screen once more, pointer finger tapping away at the mouse.

Now, out of the room, where the space was open,the energy seemed to diffuse slowly. Choi's shoulders slowly sagged as she released a slow breath, "Lord, I need a coffee."

The older female digs for a few moments in her bag before placing thick-black frames on her face, blinking away, then facing the younger. "What do you say, boss, want to go for a coffee?"

Santos blushed lightly at the compliment, not used to recieving such. Instictively going to curl at her stethoscope and realizing it’s not there, she’s left wringing her hands around nothing.

“Are you sure we can leave this gu- You know what? Sure. Yeah. Coffee’s good.”

She shakes her head lightly with a small huff.

“We both know you’re the boss here.”

Thinking about it for much longer makes her snort.

“You know, this has been the weirdest thing to happen to me so far, and there’s not even malpractice involved! I could stay here a while!” Trinity is, a little unfortunately, only half joking.

The older chuckled in response, "the patient will take a second to get to radiology, get his scans, radiology sometimes takes their time regardless."

The elder offered a small shrug, signing off the computer with a click," I do suppose, you guys downstairs never get the time to even touch the café on the third floor?"

She pushes her frames up subconsciously, standing up with a long stretch, yawning softly as doing so.

"Back in my day, the ER had an actual break area for students and interns, had a mandatory break for everyone," she hummed, "of course I was never down there then, but they all seemed a little happier."

With a soft yet firm hand to the others back she grinned," I'll take you to the café, don't worry about the cost, the hospital actually covers the physician's purchases... if you didn't know that already."

Trinity was honestly a little confounded. Not only had she never been to the cafe on the third floor, she didn’t know there WAS one. The only thing she knew about was the patient and loved ones cafeteria, which she doesn’t usually go into unless she can tell Whitaker’s hungry, since whenever a doctor goes in there they get swarmed with “Is he okay?” or “Will she make it?” or “I love them!” or “He’s just a kid” or “How much longer will this fucking take?!” or—

You get the idea.

“Nope. Never been,” she eventually settles on. Neuro is much more cushy than she thought it would be. Then again, it’s also terrifying. She’s heard stories of 24 hour or longer surgeries, on your feet with no breaks until the patient was cured because good shit takes time or something.

Trinity found herself surprised again. “Seriously?! You’re kidding, how did they ever stabilize patients with mandatory breaks? Must’ve been hella slow or hella staffed for that…”

Finally, she nods. Not that she was hungry, but it was a lovely thought. Trinity lived in the spaces between bouts of nausea, headaches, chills, and fainting spells. Never hunger or thirst, really, unless it got too bad. Still, she didn’t want to stress out the older woman, so a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody.

"They used to have a 'stacked' schedule, so one set of students and doctors would leave and the others would cover, and so forth. So some would break midway through the shifts for thirty to forty-five minutes, while another set would cover, and they would trade off," she explained, leading the younger through a set of double doors and eventually to a staff elevator.

Once the door closed, her nimble fingers pressed the button to the third floor subconsciously, looking to the younger as if to read her.

"Santos, may I offer a bit of advice?" She started, awaiting her answer with a bit of hidden anxiety.

"Nothing bad, I promise," she follows up, as if she noticed how seriously she sounded. The only sound filling up the seconds worth of space being the 'kick' sensation of the elevator followed by its comforting hum.

"I was in your shoes-or similar ones, not long ago. And I-," for once she almost seemed anxious.

"I think, you have the capabilities of being a wonderful physician. You are young, impressionable, and so hungry to learn. I've noticed how closely you watch," her voice was slightly rushed, the elevator stalling for a moment before the doors slowly opened.

"I think, Doctor Santos, you should allow yourself a bit more space. Take up more space with confidence, if you catch my drift," she laughs almost awkwardly before muttering something regarding how cheesy she sounds.

Allowing the younger to take the first step out, following suit," It's sappy. It is, but please assure your name is known. We have a saying, us korean folk."

She pauses, taking a step forward and linking a friendly arm with the younger before speaking, her words curled around her tongue-foreign and warm.

"오늘 걷지 않으면 내일 뛰어야 한다 " she speaks with a certain sing-song tone she used once or twice before.

"It means,' If you don't walk today, you must run tomorrow,' just- effort and confidence, take initiative, take up space, Trinity," her words were warm, much like the many tones of her mentors.

Trinity furrowed her brows before she started laughing. “Wow, this is the first time someone’s told me to be more confident! Usually it’s all, ‘Dial it down, Santos’” she says, lowering her voice in a facsimile of some coworker.

She hopes that the humor would stop the blush of being complimented - cared for, in any way, really - by Dr. Choi, but it didn’t.

Noticing a tense silence in her wake made her realize she’d actually have to take the advice seriously, that her normal coping mechanisms of humor and deflection wouldn’t work.

“Thank you, really, you-you’re really kind. I’m fine though, okay?”

Trinity unconsciously starts giggling again. “Jamie was right, this is your second inspirational speech today! You really do make a lot of them”

The surgeon's face drops only for a split moment, looking with the younger woman with an unreadable expression, eyes drawing a thin line between hers before she paused. Her arm unraveled before placing either hands on the other shoulder, hands equal part warm and chilled, likely the atmosphere. She held her there for a moment.

Her eyes held the woman for only a moment longer before she clicked her lips, a makeshift tsk between her lips before she spoke," you must promise me."

She starts, stoic expression lightening as she pulls her left hand away from the shoulder of the younger girl, extending a pinky finger towards the other.

"I may be old and partly senile," she jokes playfully, "but I do mean every word. You have great potential, don't doubt yourself."

Her laugh soon lit the hallway, using her right hand to cup the others' hand the moment their pinkies lace, wrapping their connected hands with the chill blanket of her hand.

"You mustn't forget this moment. Memory is a hard thing to regain, you'know?"

The contact made Trinity tense at first, but she slowly settled into feeling warmth at the gesture. She hasn’t been touched kindly in so long, hasn’t let anybody for fear of it becoming less-than-kind.

Trinity blinked, something in her heart that was once empty filling. Maybe it was support, or hope? Either way, it was enough of a feeling to make her say, eyes wide:

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

A beat goes by.

“Genuinely, thank you.”

They make their way to the café after that, and Trinity doesn’t feel hungry but she doesn’t feel nauseous either, which is how she ends up sat in a somewhat cozy, somewhat chilly corner of the space across from her senior, sipping on a chocolate milk and eating a banana with some saltines; she’d normally opt for a redbull with a snickers but something about the soft atmosphere made her feel like she didn’t need them.

Sitting with her own coffee, it steams, rising into the warmth of the small-cozy café. The small place, hidden in the corner of the third floor, tucked away from the general public; doctors, nurses, and techs all sat around bantering. The booths were clad with withered leather, slightly worn on the sides likely due to the hands of many past staff members, none the less comfortable. It was heaven in comparison to the chill surgical halls, warm lit, and singing with slow jazz. In front of the surgeon sat a small pastry, not yet ate.

The surgeon stirred her warm drink, its caramel color swirling with foamy broth, her eyes trained downwards-admiring its warmth. Past her head, portraits of older staff members, some of which are easily recognizable; the same headshots displayed in the emergency department downstairs.

"You know-," Choi started, still slowly stirring her steamy drink," you could've gotten more. I don't mind."

Finally looking up to the younger woman, her eyes looming between her eyes for a moment before sitting up straight and fixing her posture, a thimble finger pushing her frames up the bridge of her nose.

"Tell me about yourself, Trinity. I've done all the talking thus far, and we have a bit of time."

#🩹#the pitt #the pitt roleplay #the pitt rp #the pitt oc #ooc: sorry I took so long #we might be in different time zones actually as well

Doctor Choi stood outside of the large double doors, which separated the hospital from the surgical space, directly over the bright red ‘STERILE AREA’ line, which further isolated the cold surgical halls from the bustling hospital. Unlike what she's normally seen in, she is dressed in dark crimson, almost wine colored scrubs, her nice embellished neatly on her left breast.

Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun, a matching crimson bag at her side, likely consisting of her loupes and scrub caps. Despite her specialty and its ability to cover your face at all times, she wore light makeup, successfully making her look around the age of the young doctor approaching her. She seemed to light up, looking at the younger doctor's badge reel.

“You must be Doctor Santos,” she extends a cleanly manicured hand,” my name is Destiny Choi. Feel free to just call me Destiny. Oh-.”

She cut herself off, momentarily digging into her bag to pull out a clipboard, a few papers held neatly under the metal bar. “Here we are, the necessary release forms. You just need to sign and date..”

She handed the clipboard over, pulling a pen from an exterior pocket of her bag to hand to the young doctor.

“You mentioned wanting to jump into the cases, yeah? Today, we have a few scheduled, eight to be exact, six of which are craniotomies. The others are spine cases, those tend to be a bit difficult to watch in on because we're standing over the patient, but if you are able to stay long- by all means,” she paused to purse her lips, offering the younger a smile,” please do. It's a bit of a personal formality, but I also had planned a lunch mid way through the day for my team. You are welcome to come along.”

‐-------------------------------------------------

[ @trinsantos04 ]

Trinity looks at Dr. Choi slightly longer than she needs to, feeling oddly underdressed. Her hair is in a tight, mid length ponytail held up by a black rubber-band, sans the little tendrils of baby hair that jut in front of her ears and forehead; her outfit consists of navy scrubs, a gray long-sleeved undershirt with a band logo on it (she hates the scrubs’ texture to much to go without one, but her more professional undershirts have yet to be washed), her well-loved white sneakers, and some plain stud earrings; her makeup is nonexistent at this point, being just light eyeliner after the sweat of her previous shift removed just about all her foundation and most of her blush. Normally, she’d fit right into the ER, but something about the surgeons of the PTMC whisper “elegant” even under pressure, something Trinity isn’t sure she’d ever be able to compare to.

Trinity, slightly off kilter, takes the pen (PTMC’s best ballpoint, as per the dark logo) and the clipboard, skimming it lightly and signing off on a few perfunctory lines before taking Dr. Choi’s hand in her own non-manicured one (she’d get a manicure if she wasn’t such a nail-biter, but why waste the money otherwise?) for a stronger-than-what-is-probably-necessary handshake.

“Yes, I’d love to join a case! As many as possible, really. Sleep is for the weak,” she jokes lightly, realizing she should probably have more decorum. Nerves always makes her cocky as an overcorrection, and today is no different.

She blinks at the prospect of a lunch break, nonplussed but not unhappy at the idea.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll come to lunch. Didn’t realize you guys had scheduled breaks like that. Come to think of it, Pedes does too, so maybe the ER is just special.”

With that introduction, Trinity put her hands in her pockets, awaiting further instruction. She can’t say she’s been in the surgery hallways more than twice or thrice (courtesy of some impromptu teaching by Walsh, Garcia, or Shamsi) so she’s unfamiliar with the navigation of it all.

Doctor Choi stiffles out a small laugh at the prospect, gently patting the younger's shoulder with a polite disagreement," sleep in important, the days are long up here, but I know its just as equal down under."

She paused before thinking of an answer," Most specialties do mandate a lunch break. You guys tend to be every which way constantly. That's probably why. Now- normally, we don't go out for lunch, but today is my scrub techs birthday, so it's a special occasion, I'm paying."

Turning sharply on her heels, she faces a large ScrubX machine, inputting some digits to dispense scrubs; then facing the younger doc.

"Your scrub size? We have to wear surgical scrubs here for obvious reasons," she hummed, soon dispensing the scrubs of the younger and handing her the bundle.

"Follow me," she continued, walking close to a door promptly labeled: female locker room. After putting in more random codes, buzzing them in. The locker room was as expected, rows of small grey lockers that lined the floor and walls, disrupted by a small bench and a curtain.

"Feel free to change in here. Beyond the curtain is a few bathroom stalls, if that makes you a little more comfortable. Warning, I would keep on your underscrubs beneath these surgical ones. It gets very out there," she hummed, opening her locker. Long lashes trained downwards as she placed her bag into the small space.

Then, looking up to the younger, still crouched and smiling, "You can leave the clipboard on the bench. We will turn in the forms whenever we are dressed."

Trinity nods lightly, “well Happy Birthday to them.”

Trinity always goes a size up in her scrubs, despite regulations, because any other size would have her squirming all shift in discomfort (probably leading to one of the annoying breakdowns she has at her place sometimes) Luckily for her, Dr. Choi doesn’t question her motioning for a Large rather than a Medium.

She lightly huffs at the warning, a small smile playing at her face. “Aye aye, cap’n,” Trinity mumbles before leaving the clipboard on one of the midline seats of the locker room and making a beeline to a stall.

(Dr. Choi isn’t going to know about anything on Trinitys first day. She has a chance to make her impression as someone sane, ready. She’s not gonna mess it up. So, stall it is.)

Trinity emerges from the bathroom stall wearing light blue scrubs instead of the normal dark-navy, though her undershirt still lies beneath it as a precaution. With a sarcastic salute, flat hand grazing her own forehead, she remarks, “Ready for duty, Dr. Choi!”

The elder looks over to the younger doctor with a small laugh, humored by her salute, now appropriately dressed. Her crimson scrubs were replaced by the same hospital scrubs, slightly too long, as per her cuffed scrub pants. Her hair, which was in an organized, now tucked into a scrub cap decorated with small felines.

Doctor Choi opened her locker further for the younger to place her belongings in with her own, "feel free to grab a scrub cap, I washed them all yesterday." Watching the younger females stare for a moment longer, she placed herself down on bench, slowly applying surgical shoe covers over her pristine white shoes. Waiting a moment longer, she stood stretching slowly, "No need for your stethoscope back there. The anesthesiologist handles the patients' vitals and whatnot."

After the other's belongings were put away, she bent to her level, closing her locker. "The code is seven, five, six, four, three, two," she looked to the younger doctor with a soft smile," if in the case you need to leave."

She stood, brushing her knees off before grabbing the clipboard that was rested nearby, tucking it under her axilla; heading to the bathroom sink to wash her hands, the same choreography she practiced every day.

"When we are in the surgical space, feel free to ask questions, even the silly ones," she opened the heavy door which kept the locker room seperated from the breakroom," after you, Doctor Santos."

Trinity puts on a scrub cap, feeling a little bit like an egg in the process, as she tries to remember the code.

7…6, 4? 5, 2? This totally won’t bite me later, she remarks in her head.

Feeling a little wounded, she puts her stethoscope in the locker next. It’s a nice pressure on her neck, an even nicer fidget, so it’ll be a little uncomfortable to not have it around, but she’s too excited about the upcoming surgery to really care.

“Okay, so you’ve mentioned an anesthesiologist and a scrub tech so far. No stupid questions right? So, who’s everyone on the team and what are their roles?”

Trinity let’s put a breath as she leaves the locker room. Hopefully, she doesn’t fuck this all up before she’s even begun.

The elder hummed in response," Jamie is out Scrub tech, he does as any scrub tech does, hands me what I need and actively assists when necessary. Suctioning and whatnot. Normally, my anesthesiologist is Doctor Sighn, but that's subject to change - she's on maternity leave. My nurse circulator, Laura, does a load during my cases: documents the case, corrects charges, gets supplies when necessary, etcetera." Exiting the breakroom, she stops by a table, clumsily taking a papertowel to a muffin then handing it over to the younger."

"There is a team of neurophysiologists who run EEGs during cases,they're normally contacted by the hospital. Thus, I'm not sure who will be here today. Normally, Gloria and Ben take my cases, but of course, that isn't always guaranteed," she hums, grabbing her own muffin and snacking despite just washing her hands.

"And imaging, we normally have someone from Radiology in a room at all times, especially during our reconstructive cases or spinals," she explained further," or if we need hardware places, especially in those cases. Again, no guaranteed names."

Soon after finishing her impromptu breakfast, she washed her hands in a sink nearby, drying them with papertowels. Walking to the door and placing her back flushed to the wood, she opened the door, allowing the younger doctor through.

The surgical atmosphere was strange in its own regard, so still but at the same time chaotic. People likely scrub techs, pushing large metal boxes around. Large machines lined the halls, some recognizable, C-arms... others not so much. The surgeon slowly removed herself from the door, gesturing the younger doctor forward.

"First things first, submitting your sheets, then we can head to the first case," she hummed, "oh- one other thing, you aren't pregnant or concerned for pregnancy... there's a lot of radiation involved at times. We do protect ourselves with lead vests, but it is something my boss encouraged me to ask."

Trinity listens with rapt attention, taking only 1 or 2 bites meager of the muffin before throwing it out to wash her hands. Jamie, Sighn, Laura, Gloria, Ben. Names to remember.

…she’ll eat later, she tells herself.

One thing Trinity notices is how much more clinical the environment is. Much less screaming, shouting, and general chaos than the ER or even Pedes. Well, that’s to be expected when all your patients are drugged or asleep.

The pregnancy questions throws her for a loop. “I- no, I’m gay,” Trinity says before she can stop herself. “I’m not looking for a baby any time soon,” she tries again with a little more tact.

Feeling heat rise to her face, she asks, “Where am I submitting these? Is there a formal meeting like in Pedes?”

The surgeon only nodded with a polite smile to the other's admission, "No shame in that." She then shakes her head, removing the clipboard from her axilla, leading the younger physician to the nurses station. With a gentle hand, she pulled a pen from a nearby cup, signing off on the document before releasing the paper from its binds, then placing it in a filing cabinet nearby.

"No formal meeting for us, fortunately enough, us surgeons normally just sorta show up whenever we are needed. We are responsible for going over our cases the day of or prior to the case scheduled time," she hummed, looking over to two large screens: the patients name and MRN, the time of the case, the details of the case, as well as extra supplies listed. She read over the blocks in the chart, walking forward to tap the screen, specifically on a light pink block," This will be our first case. No worries, the nurse goes over all of this whenever we are in the room. "

She took a retreating step to fish out surgical boot covers from a nearby wire shelf, handing Santos a pair before applying her own over shoes (which were already covered). Then retreaving two surgical bouffants caps to place over their scrub caps, only laughing to herself with an appropriate, "These always make me feel like a lunch lady."

Then, I took a quick moment to double-check herself, and then the other, she nodded," Are you ready, Doctor Santos?"

She takes in the information mostly silently, a series of nods indicating she’s paying attention. She chuckles though, at the description of the covers, before putting on her own.

“Feels very ‘Dexter’ to me. Am I gonna find your patient tied to the table with ceran wrap?”

Trinity assesses herself, carding away the beginnings of a headache as she pulls a small strand of hair behind her ear. Finally, she bobs her head once in agreement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

"Tied to the table, yes sorta, but ceran wrap is a stretch... normally it patient straps," she jokes in return. Leading the other forward and down a long hall.

"My first case today is an endoscopic assisted pituitary mass resection, so unfortunately, not too much to do on your behalf, but it should take less than an hour. The next case is a subdural hematoma resection, far more fun. But first thing's first, as always, handwashing," she instructed, leading the doctor to a handwash station.

Her moves were choreographed, practiced over many years of training and scrubbing into surgery, washing her hands up to her elbows, and gesturing for the other to do the same. The water was cold, freezing almost, against her pale skin.

After she was finished, instead of drying her hands, she placed her back against a small-windowed door; pushing it open for the other into a small vacuumed sealed room. Then, once again, into the surgical room.

The room itself was large, about the size of two trauma bays, but occupied with large machines. The anesthesiologist, covered by a surgical drape nearby, is accompanied by two large machines used to maintain homeostasis. Behind the machines, an even larger one, its wires tangled on the floor; a large screen with handles dangling off the top. Large-silver shelves lined two walls, filled to the brim with supplies, surgical tables draped appropriately with each and every tool placed near the patients bed, a tall male standing between them and the patient. A C-arm was placed against the wall near the main entrance of the room, which they hadn't entered from. The circulator sitting nearby, likely documenting the enterance of the surgeon. Lastly, a table that was not occupied, which held surgical gowns, and some gloves.

Doctor Choi promptly cleared her throat, grabbing two masks before handing Doctor Santos one. Applying it before breaking past more red lines, which she failed to mention to the other. "Good morning, team. I wanted to introduce everyone to our surprise guest. This is Doctor Santos from the ED. She will be following us today during our cases."

Trinity washed her hands up to her elbows an followed, a little duckish, to the room.

Perking up at the mention of something more hands on, she says, “Sick! I mean, it’s sad, but also… sick!”

As she entered the room, she tried not to gawk at all the supplies, making sure to not touch anything as she scoots past the entryway and lets the door close.

“Hi,” she says with a little wave and a slightly impatient face, eager to see how everything works as she puts her mask on, “thank you so much for letting me shadow.”

She watches as Choi gloves up, almost enamored at the smooth workings of the OR. They’re like a well oiled machine, and she’s a brand new cog with no grease to her name.

Under the harsh, bright lights, her eyes wide with curiosity squint a little, pupils miosing to pinpricks. Her heart thrums in excitement.

“Where should I be standing, Doctor? So I don’t get in your way.”

With the help of the scrub tech, the scrub gown was applied to Choi's front, she took a few strides over to the doctor whilst talking," for the time being, I'm going to have you in a corner so we can get everything situated, after then I will move you a little closer so you can have a better view of the scape. Can you, very carefully, help me with the velcro of my gown- the neck?"

After the slightly trembling hands of the other closed the neckline of the gown, she then hands her the card connected to the gown," Hold steadily, don't let it go now." Her voice was soft, instructing her with practiced patience, which likely came with years of experience. She, after the doctor grasped the tag, made a full 180° turn, pulling the fabric free from the tag and tying it with ease.

"Very good," she encouraged, then having the scrub tech help her glove up, finally walking towards the patient and standing near the draped woman's head before the nurse took a stand.

Laura, the nurse, paused for one moment, the patient lying draped in the surgical clamps, head hanging off the bed- and focused upwards, intubated appropriately. Laura took a moment, clicking slowly at the keyboard of the small monitor tucked in the corner of the room near the entrance, promptly calling the time out. Doctor Choi focused on her nurse, alongside the techs who all looked to the elder, who began to speak over the low hum of the many machines that surrounded the surgical field.

“Time out called at 10: 15. This is forty five year old Marrisa McAllister, who presented to the emergency department at approximately seven hundred this morning with a complaint of sudden-acute photophobia which occurred forty five minutes before initial presentation to the emergency department. Per resident doctor, who documents the physical examination,’ patient exam displays significant difficulties reading, with an visual acuity score rapidly decreasing across the span of the visit, leading to sudden visual loss of bilateral eyes at approximately 0715. Patients in clear distress and notes irregularities with at home HCG testing despite a medical history of hysterectomy. HCG quantitative displays a clear result of 28,000 as ordered by the attending physician. The patient also reports of galactorrhea, that began approximately a week prior. The patient initially believed to be in response to new contraceptives, which she began about three weeks prior to her visit. CT head with and without contrast were ordered, with findings of a seemingly malignant mass-like growth to the pituitary glands. MRI, appropriately ordered by Doctor Choi, displayed similar findings. Patient NPO since 2100 last night. Documented past medical history of: hypertension, hyperlipidemia, thyroid disorder of unspecified origins, and hysterectomy. No other documented history relevant to today's case. No religious stipulations were noted in her chart.”

Doctor Choi nodded, subtly adjusting the head clamps to face the nose upwards even further, using a small stool to roll around for better visualization. Her sterile gloves, double-gloved to prevent any breakage, adjusted the endoscope which was handed to her by the scrub tech on the other side of the patient. The surgeon took a moment, pausing to look towards the doctor who was awkwardly placed in the corner, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Don't break the sterile field, come around here next to me,” she instructed, speaking over the music that occupied the room's space,” so you can see the screen here.”

After shakily helping her senior with the gown and focusing on the patient history, Trinity moved - carefully - to where she was directed and found herself nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. Choi as she turned to look at the screen. She couldn’t see anything but regular skin for now, but that would change soon enough.

“So… how do you handle this? What’s the procedure?”

She can’t say that she knows much about any procedure that happened around here, but the ER required her to be well-rounded so she understood most everything she said except for any plans of fixing the matter. She felt out of her depth, but not unwelcome, just deeply curious.

Whatever the procedure may be, it seemingly must be done quickly, because everyone started up on their jobs before Trinitys question was answered. Orders muttered, tools transferring hands as she can only watch in benign confusion. She stares at the screen then to Choi’s face, then to the patient, then back to the screen in a precipitous motion, gleaning about as much as she could without further instruction.

It seems minimally invasive, by her eyes, but something must’ve gone wrong because she suddenly heard the voices go a little bit tenser, screen filling with blood.

Trinity stays quiet. The patient matters more than her education in this moment.

Without much noticeable concern from the elder, speaking softly whilst simultaneously directing the practically microscopic tools within the cranial space of the patient. Her eyes trained onto the screen, a brief moment of burning tissues, the bleeding coming to a halt.

"To answer your question," Choi started," in Transsphenoid surgery, we either use a microscope or endoscope. In this case, I opted to use the endoscope and a curette to extract the mass like structure on this patients pituitary gland."

Choi briefly looks over her shoulder to the doc, offering a small smile (as seen by her eyes over the mask and between the loupes.) She continued, looking to the screen, grasping hold of the mass successfully without much force- and was successfully able to remove it.

"As far as how I handle it personally, I know this job in particular, with the brain- is highly intimidating..," she trails on," I trained for many years, know the ins-and-outs, I recognize the possible injury which can occur. A big part of my job.." She pauses, pulling the tiny tools from the nasal canal, holding up the small mass to show the doctor before her.

"A big part of my job is recognizing that, no matter the outcome, simply having the courage to appear daily... is the hardest part. We change lives, regardless of specialities. But sometimes, it's okay to be scared, uncertain of the outcome. But have there not be individuals like us, there would be no solution for the souls who lack the knowledge of. "

Across the table, Jamie snickered, rolling his eyes ever slightly before shaking his head. Doctor Choi giving these philosophical speeches wasn't out of the ordinary it seemed.

Trinity stared, enraptured, at the globule in front of her.

“Makes sense,” Trinity mutters, still staring as her tightened shoulders relax some.

She snorts, “Gonna put that on a poster, Doc?”

She watched as the case slowly finished up, taking mental notes on the procedure and carding them for later. She knows she’ll be staying awake until her next shift researching the hell out of what she just saw.

As the patient gets moved to the next room, Trinity takes notice of the collective, soft sighs emerging from the surgeons. She gets it; she’s tired and she wasn’t even the one performing the surgery.

Still, the experience left her oddly invigorated. She also feels weirdly comforted. Robby would’ve never given a speech like that (anymore) and neither would Abbot. Al-hashimi maybe, if she was more acclimated to the Pitt.

“You give pep-talks often?”

Jamie cut in momentarily with a sarcastic snort," only every day." His face, hidden beneath the sterile mask, followed the patient. Doctor Choi only gave a response.

"In this specialty, you most literally crack open people, play inside of them. You are tasked with something both delicate and morbid in its own regard. It's important to keep good team morale," she strips off her gloves with a practiced pinch and role," otherwise you can easily fall into psychosis."

She pauses, using her naked hands to strip off the gown, then her mask. Her nose bridge was slightly reddened due to the pressure of the mask, soft freckles ever so slightly seen under the surgical lights, "we are all human in the end, and are not immune to the consequences of what we do. Santos, you and I alike, all health professionals, are the minority of people who can handle these things. Our health and mental health, especially, are important."

The surgeon took a lazy step forward, using the same manicured hand on the others back, lightly leading her out of the room as the staff began to clean up.

"Nothing too bad so far, any other questions, if not- we can stop by pre-op and visit with our next patient."

Trinity’s eyebrows furrow, “Psychosis? Really? I’ve never heard of a doctor going into psychosis because of work.”

The mental health conversation made her huff a little. The OR really is different from the ER, a significant amount. Down there, there’s no caring how “sane” you are when you have to get the patient stable. Up heart is stressful in its own way, but there’s room to breathe.

Still, something about this is much more… vulnerable. Seeing people’s organs and internals so clinically, purposefully, feels like a new naked.

Resisting the urge to rub her reddened nose bridge, Trinity nods.

“I can see how they would, though.”

Trinity finds herself zoning out, staring at the freckles of her seniors face. She feels oddly fuzzy. She doesn’t know why even, since she didn’t do anything in there, she just watched.

She blinks, almost languidly, and mumbles, “No questions. Let’s go to pre-op.”

"It does happen. Our job is often described as grotesque like autopsy or murder, more so when you spend hours inside of someone and they end up passing regardless. Our brain, in combination with societal norms, often convinces us of simply false things," she explains, gesturing for the younger doctor to follow.

She hit a silver button on the wall after a few long moments of adventure, opening up to a set of rooms, somewhat like the patient rooms of the ED- but seemed to lack the intense amount of chos the ED was popular for. There were at least thirty or so rooms, some occupied by patients, others not. Nurses weren't rushing around. Instead, they do their tasks at comfortable speeds.

Turning a corner, Choi faced towards the nurses station. There sat an older lady, out of date beehive on top her head, red frames barely hanging off her slightly hooked nose. "Samantha," Choi nearly sang to the nurse, who offered a small gruff before sarcastic singing back a," Choi."

"Where is my next patient," the surgeon began," Mr. Wang?"

Her lashed eyes grazed over the board posterior to the lady, narrowing over the patient's names before the lady spoke, red lips pursed in a near snarl," he is in room 16. Not in a great mood."

Choi offered a side ways smile, nearly a smirk," well, if I had a giant blood clot in my skull paired with the worst headache on the planet... I would be pretty peeved, too."

The prospect of losing yourself over a job makes Trinity shutter. She tries not to think about it much longer, shaking her head like it would get rid of her thoughts, like her brain was an etch-a-sketch.

The rooms were almost calming, the white noise of moving carts and varied talking lulling her somewhat. This shift has been so different from the ER, and yet it’s left her feeling just as much tension in her shoulders. She shakes that off too.

Trinity smirks at the conversation, Samantha loosely reminding her of Dana in temperament.

She catches up a few seconds later when she hears blood clot in the skull.

“Oh shit, that’s serious. Like- serious serious. I’m still getting on this right?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet in some combination of nerves and anticipation.

Despite her ranging moods, Dr. Choi remained her same level of light yet serious. Trinity thinks, loosely, that Choi should look into being an attending herself. She has the mien.

"Absolutely Doctor Santos, this is a wonderful learning experience," Choi hummed to herself, patting the younger physician's shoulder with a gentle hand.

"I've met with Mr.Wang before, admittedly outside of the hospital. I'm not sure he remembers me, had a thing with his son a while back," she explains with an eased expression," but he was a nice man."

She lightly knocks on the door, its label '16' dark and bold. With a gruff, she opens the door. In the bed, an elderly man, not too pleased as Samatha had mentioned.

"Good morning Mr.Wang, my name is Doctor Choi, I will be your surgeon today," she spoke, gesturing to the younger doctor who observed," and this is my boss." Her tone held banter, an obvious joke.

"All jokes aside, we will be the ones working on you today. How are you feeling?"

The old man eyes the pair, narrowing his eyes before replying a gruff," my head hurts," in some foreign language. The surgeon nods before gesturing to the younger physician once more," have any questions for him, Doctor Santos?"

Trinity subconsciously leaned into the touch before pulling away.

Meeting Mr. Wang was… interesting. He was gruff and old and angry but didn’t set off the usual signals Trinity felt around men. It made her feel weirdly more responsible then she’d normally feel for a patient like him, like he was one of the only good men around so she had to help keep him around. Being called the boss, she sarcastically jingles the information tag clip on her pants.

Trinity knew a few languages herself (English, Tagolog, Illongo, Wikang Filipino, some Spanish and a lot of ASL so that way Harlow would never happen again) but she couldn’t tell what the man was saying.

Biting her lip, Trinity offered a “Hello, I’m gonna try to make that head pain go away. Do you have any history of previous head injury? Are you taking any medications? Any medical conditions we don’t know about?”

She then turns to Dr. Choi, “What language is he speaking exactly?”

Choi let out something between a chuckle and sigh before answering, "he is speaking Mandarin, their family spoke a specific dialect, but that I am not sure of."

Her answer was honest, her own thin eyebrows furrowed as the man seemed to think his answer over, a thin finger tapping his wrinkled chin. Right as he seemed to think of something, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing important," he answers, his accent heavy, earning a sharp eye from the surgeon.

With a singular beat, he opened up, even slightly-shoulders sagging before he finally answered, " I fell a while back... fell asleep after."

Choi nodded once, then twice over, asking the elder if she could see his bag. The elder handed over the bag easily, allowing the doctor to fish out his medications, sealed away in a plastic bag. Pulling the bag open with a few satisfying pops, she hummed to herself," blood pressure medications, and uhm- aha, here."

Lifting a small bottle, its innards nearly depleted," he is taking Plavix." She turned to face the man once more," why do you take blood thinners, Mr.Wang?"

The older man seemed to scowl ever slightly before answering with an annoyed tone," my doctor told me to."

Choi furrowed her brow once more, tapping her badge against a nearby computer, looking over his documents.

"Aha, I see here, you were admitting for a coronary artery bypass graft not long ago. Was Doctor Damaraju your surgeon?"

The male only nodded in response, seemingly annoyed by the mention of the surgeon.

"Okay Mr.Wang, Doctor Santos and I are going to do our own little examination before pre-op gets your prepped, is that okay?"

A beat, followed by the elders nod.

"M'kay," the doctor takes a seat nearby on a stool," does your head hurt, Mr.Wang?" Another beat, followed by the elders sigh.

"Nausea or Vomiting?"

"Both."

"Any seizure like activity listed in his chart, Santos?"

The doctor turns her head over her shoulder to face the younger doctor, the warm lights of the patient rooms highlighting her tall nose bridge, her head slightly tilted.

Trinity looks through his chart, papers ruffling. After a moment, her hand flattens and shakes in a so-so gesture.

“No epilepsy, but it seems like he’s had a fall in the past that gave him a seizure. Concussion. This could be related to second impact syndrome?” she ended with a shrug.

Trinity, at the nod of Dr. Choi, asks a few more questions and performs a few small, on-sight tests. About to ask her senior what she thinks of the symptoms, Mr. Wang’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Trinity barely catches him before he falls, setting his limp body down as it starts twitching like the beginning of convulsion. She moves from him then, pushing back the gurney he was previously sitting on, along with the rooms 2 plastic chairs and 1 rolling chair.

“Time elapsed, 10 seconds,” she mutters, doing her best to mentally track the seizures timespan.

The surgeon, taken aback by the sudden situation, bends to the patients level and calls out to him. Retracting her pen light to check for pupilary reactiveness immediately. Looking to the younger doctor, she simply commands, "go get Samantha for me, Santos, please."

With a quick, one-two motion, she taps the shoulder of the man the moment he stops seizing. "Mr.Wang," she can hear in the distance, the nurses approaching with hurried steps from outside the room.

She shakes the man once more, her calm face a complete opposite of the scenario," when did you last take your blood thinners?"

The male groggily slurrs, earning the surgeon's pained expression,"four lorazepam, load one point five levetiracetam, prep DDAVP zero point three micrograms, and platelets. I would like a stat repeat CT, then have him intubated."

The surgeon, alongside the nurses, helped the man back into his gurney; the nurses taking over by the doctors commands.

"Santos," the elder doctor gestured towards the door, soon following her out.

"10 seconds, did you catch the time," she sighs out with a little laugh.

Trinity scampers off, returning back with Samantha in toe and quickly responding.

“I was there for about 15 seconds and came back…” Trinity looked at the clock on the wall, squinting. She could never read them right, but this was important. She made her best guess. “Uh- 2 minutes later? So about 2 minutes and 20 seconds if we account for extra time.”

Trinity looks a little pale. “Are- are we still operating or…? Was that seizure CVA? Is he having a stroke?”

"What we are going to do," she starts, taking a few long strides out of the room and over to a nearby work station and logging in," is send him to repeat imaging. With the medications, he should be stable for the time being. The hematoma is likely causing the intracranial pressure to increase, thus the stroke-like-symptoms and or seizures. My concern is, with the hematoma's placement, his slurred speech isn't the precursor to aphasia."

She explains, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her eye, sitting down on the stool and typing away-likely placing orders.

She pauses, looking up at Santos for a split moment, the sterile lights highlighting the obvious concern of the younger doctor. Her lips, plump with a few obvious bite marks-subconsciously placed, curled into a small smile before she spoke.

"Good work, Doctor Santos. You acted very quickly," her eyes etched to the screen once more, pointer finger tapping away at the mouse.

Now, out of the room, where the space was open,the energy seemed to diffuse slowly. Choi's shoulders slowly sagged as she released a slow breath, "Lord, I need a coffee."

The older female digs for a few moments in her bag before placing thick-black frames on her face, blinking away, then facing the younger. "What do you say, boss, want to go for a coffee?"

Santos blushed lightly at the compliment, not used to recieving such. Instictively going to curl at her stethoscope and realizing it’s not there, she’s left wringing her hands around nothing.

“Are you sure we can leave this gu- You know what? Sure. Yeah. Coffee’s good.”

She shakes her head lightly with a small huff.

“We both know you’re the boss here.”

Thinking about it for much longer makes her snort.

“You know, this has been the weirdest thing to happen to me so far, and there’s not even malpractice involved! I could stay here a while!” Trinity is, a little unfortunately, only half joking.

The older chuckled in response, "the patient will take a second to get to radiology, get his scans, radiology sometimes takes their time regardless."

The elder offered a small shrug, signing off the computer with a click," I do suppose, you guys downstairs never get the time to even touch the café on the third floor?"

She pushes her frames up subconsciously, standing up with a long stretch, yawning softly as doing so.

"Back in my day, the ER had an actual break area for students and interns, had a mandatory break for everyone," she hummed, "of course I was never down there then, but they all seemed a little happier."

With a soft yet firm hand to the others back she grinned," I'll take you to the café, don't worry about the cost, the hospital actually covers the physician's purchases... if you didn't know that already."

Trinity was honestly a little confounded. Not only had she never been to the cafe on the third floor, she didn’t know there WAS one. The only thing she knew about was the patient and loved ones cafeteria, which she doesn’t usually go into unless she can tell Whitaker’s hungry, since whenever a doctor goes in there they get swarmed with “Is he okay?” or “Will she make it?” or “I love them!” or “He’s just a kid” or “How much longer will this fucking take?!” or—

You get the idea.

“Nope. Never been,” she eventually settles on. Neuro is much more cushy than she thought it would be. Then again, it’s also terrifying. She’s heard stories of 24 hour or longer surgeries, on your feet with no breaks until the patient was cured because good shit takes time or something.

Trinity found herself surprised again. “Seriously?! You’re kidding, how did they ever stabilize patients with mandatory breaks? Must’ve been hella slow or hella staffed for that…”

Finally, she nods. Not that she was hungry, but it was a lovely thought. Trinity lived in the spaces between bouts of nausea, headaches, chills, and fainting spells. Never hunger or thirst, really, unless it got too bad. Still, she didn’t want to stress out the older woman, so a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody.

"They used to have a 'stacked' schedule, so one set of students and doctors would leave and the others would cover, and so forth. So some would break midway through the shifts for thirty to forty-five minutes, while another set would cover, and they would trade off," she explained, leading the younger through a set of double doors and eventually to a staff elevator.

Once the door closed, her nimble fingers pressed the button to the third floor subconsciously, looking to the younger as if to read her.

"Santos, may I offer a bit of advice?" She started, awaiting her answer with a bit of hidden anxiety.

"Nothing bad, I promise," she follows up, as if she noticed how seriously she sounded. The only sound filling up the seconds worth of space being the 'kick' sensation of the elevator followed by its comforting hum.

"I was in your shoes-or similar ones, not long ago. And I-," for once she almost seemed anxious.

"I think, you have the capabilities of being a wonderful physician. You are young, impressionable, and so hungry to learn. I've noticed how closely you watch," her voice was slightly rushed, the elevator stalling for a moment before the doors slowly opened.

"I think, Doctor Santos, you should allow yourself a bit more space. Take up more space with confidence, if you catch my drift," she laughs almost awkwardly before muttering something regarding how cheesy she sounds.

Allowing the younger to take the first step out, following suit," It's sappy. It is, but please assure your name is known. We have a saying, us korean folk."

She pauses, taking a step forward and linking a friendly arm with the younger before speaking, her words curled around her tongue-foreign and warm.

"오늘 걷지 않으면 내일 뛰어야 한다 " she speaks with a certain sing-song tone she used once or twice before.

"It means,' If you don't walk today, you must run tomorrow,' just- effort and confidence, take initiative, take up space, Trinity," her words were warm, much like the many tones of her mentors.

Trinity furrowed her brows before she started laughing. “Wow, this is the first time someone’s told me to be more confident! Usually it’s all, ‘Dial it down, Santos’” she says, lowering her voice in a facsimile of some coworker.

She hopes that the humor would stop the blush of being complimented - cared for, in any way, really - by Dr. Choi, but it didn’t.

Noticing a tense silence in her wake made her realize she’d actually have to take the advice seriously, that her normal coping mechanisms of humor and deflection wouldn’t work.

“Thank you, really, you-you’re really kind. I’m fine though, okay?”

Trinity unconsciously starts giggling again. “Jamie was right, this is your second inspirational speech today! You really do make a lot of them”

The surgeon's face drops only for a split moment, looking with the younger woman with an unreadable expression, eyes drawing a thin line between hers before she paused. Her arm unraveled before placing either hands on the other shoulder, hands equal part warm and chilled, likely the atmosphere. She held her there for a moment.

Her eyes held the woman for only a moment longer before she clicked her lips, a makeshift tsk between her lips before she spoke," you must promise me."

She starts, stoic expression lightening as she pulls her left hand away from the shoulder of the younger girl, extending a pinky finger towards the other.

"I may be old and partly senile," she jokes playfully, "but I do mean every word. You have great potential, don't doubt yourself."

Her laugh soon lit the hallway, using her right hand to cup the others' hand the moment their pinkies lace, wrapping their connected hands with the chill blanket of her hand.

"You mustn't forget this moment. Memory is a hard thing to regain, you'know?"

#🩹#the pitt #the pitt roleplay #the pitt rp #the pitt oc

Destiny Choi M.D. @bl00dth1nnerz - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag