Not really. Without Sage, nothing was right.
“You can hold down the fort while I’m in surgery, right?”
Marlee blinked as if to say, It’s what I do. It’s what I been doin’.
Jasher hustled across the medical complex to the hospital. Today’s surgery—it was a simple procedure. Bone spur removal on the heel of a local high school athlete. Local anesthetic. Sage would be there. Maybe he could say something to her. Maybe he could just …
“Dr. Babbage.” Jasher nearly barreled into the older doctor as he hustled into the O-R, still tying back his surgical gown. “What are you doing back on duty? I heard—” Jasher stopped himself before repeating gossip.
“I heal fast.”
Jasher wouldn’t fight him on it, but this was still a leap. If anything went wrong, Dr. Babbage had to go. “Let’s get started. Our patient looks prepped and ready.”
Babbage had done an acceptable job of preparing Lloyd Dolan, the star forward on the basketball team, by giving the young man a local anesthetic as well as a regional anesthetic, from Lloyd’s ankle down.
This should be a breeze.
Jasher checked all the surgical tools that the assistant had prepared. The surgery would require lifting a flap of skin to the side of the bone spur on the heel, inserting a small drill to remove the calcium deposit, gently scraping it away to an acceptable size, and then closing the incision.
Simple.
Except—it wasn’t.
From the get-go—even in surgical introductions, when Jasher misnamed the patient Boyd instead of Lloyd, his assistant Dr. Freer as Dr. Fleer, and even Babbage—everything went wrong.
The initial incision bled much more than expected. Suction for removing the bone chips wasn’t set at correct levels, and a small chip may have disappeared into the wound. Not only was the temperature too high under the hot lights, but Jasher’s temper started getting shaky, and he might lash out any second—at someone less deserving of a lashing than himself.
I’m the one to blame here. He glanced at Babbage. Babbage didn’t fit in this room.
I need Sage here to calm me.
But then—wait a minute. Was it happening? Was Sage’s so-called curse becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy?
“Dr. Freer, would you mind completing the final passes of the drill?” Jasher handed the intern the whirring tool and got out of there.
The air in the hallway was fresh, and Jasher gulped it. Was he losing his nerve? What in the blazes had gone wrong in there?
He whipped off his surgical gown and charged back to his clinic, where he changed back into his civilian clothes.
“Marlee? Can you get word to the hospital that I’ll be out for the day.” Maybe the rest of the week. Until he could figure out what had just gone wrong in there.
I can’t be losing my touch. I can’t.
Not now. Not when he was just getting started.