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Drrdon! Drrdon! Drrdon!
What the?
Drrdon! Drrdon! Drrdon!
I knew the particular sound of my call-out phone...the emergency call out
I couldn't leave it.
"Two cars, three serious, four others..."
I had to go. Although I was about to be fucked or to fuck
I had to go.
I kissed Eric, who seemed dazed,
"I have to go!"
And I went.
I felt guilty, but I have a job that is serious. It's about saving lives.
And basically I had always been disciplined to give myself to that.
It was a harrowing night.
Three of the people admitted were really serious. I did two operations, and my colleagues Georgio and Margie each did two others.
I need to put this in perspective because twelve senior and highly skilled nurses, a couple of anaesthetists and a whole lot of other people, myself included, were hectic to address community catastrophe.
The two cases I presided over went really well. A third was touch and go, and the amazing Margie operated all through the night on what were probably the most difficult cases, a father and son and an infant child and all were doing well when we wound up twelve hours later.
As we hit the rest area I threw my arms around her, and we just took the moment...well a few minutes ...to breathe a huge sigh of relief . We had been in this situation a few times before, and the results were not always so positive.
I kissed her on the cheeks and she hugged me deeply.
It was good to stand back and feel that we had done what we were trained for, and it had gone well.
"You did really well," I whispered into her ear and kissed her on the cheek.
"Thanks so much, " she replied, "we do what we can"
Nice to trust someone you work with.
"I see you have been seeing the lovely Eric," she said, and I was some what taken aback.
"Yes," I replied somewhat tentatively, "we seem to like each other's company."
I am sure I recoiled a little. I had never felt it appropriate or necessary to share my personal life with my colleagues, let alone a woman I barely knew.
I wondered how much she knew about me, and about Eric. And how many constructions she was making about what was going on. I felt pretty sure she knew I was `not the marrying kind', meaning that I was not going to be married according to the former marriage laws. I was after all in my thirties, had never been seen with a serious female partner, and those really close to me knew that I had had a number of close boyfriends.
Margie could tell she had potentially overstepped an invisible line and immediately tried to back track,
"Oh, I didn't mean to be intrusive," she quickly added, "it's just that I know him and his family. We went to school together. Though he's a few years younger than me."
I wondered if she was implying that if he was younger than her, then he was a lot younger than me.
"It's not a problem, " I said, "we've only just met."
"He has a bit of a reputation" she proffered , and I just wanted to stop the conversation and move on to something else.
It seemed bizarre that having been through a number of major surgeries we were now talking about the guy who was totally monopolising my waking hours.
I had no intention of telling her that he had been my window cleaner, or that we had already done so much sexual stuff that she couldn't possibly imagine it.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to overstep the mark. I just thought you might like to know"
Like to know what? She didn't seem to be inclined to back off.
"I saw him and you last week. And then I saw him and another guy the day after. He seemed more his age"
Oh fuck, I thought. I don't want this conversation. What on earth is she trying to say?
I smiled half-heartedly.
"OK," I said, " let's leave it there."
She reached out to touch my hand, it was brief, very brief. I pulled my hand back.
What the fuck was going on?
"I just don't want you to be hurt."
She smiled and and I offered a half-assed smile back.
I was already aware that I was more than ten years Eric's senior. I had no idea why this woman who was my colleague even felt she had the right to comment on this.
I left the hospital feeling shattered. Not because of the serious and difficult surgery, but because this woman had told me things I didn't want to know.
Was I just being used? could I go back?
My own personal confidence, normally high, was fairly shaken.
I feel embarrassed to admit that what I did was hit the beat.
Some of you won't get this. I went to the first public toilet I knew where gay guys got their rocks off. It was packed.
Let's face it after twelve hours of surgery I was off my head
I strode through the station and people were coming both ways. I let my hand fall carelessly, and groped the guy coming towards me. I just kept walking. It was crazy. The guy just kept walking.
We were all there for the same reason, but walking in the opposite direction. It was still daylight.
After ten minutes I slipped off to the side, and just put my head in my hands and cried.
I couldn't do this. I don't want to do anonymous sex (any more!!). I need something a bit better
WTF had Margie told me about Eric? What did I want?
Hope you enjoy this story as it continues. You can send any comments to me Larry Ryder larry.ryder@mail.com. There are a couple more instalments in my mind, but I am `writing into the dark' so would happily receive any comments and/or suggestions