Not Your Doormat Anymore novel Chapter 24

"Can I go into your room, Dr. Ranford?" Kourtney looked up, her face lit with surprise.

I didn't have time to talk, so I just nodded quickly. "Do whatever you think works."

I quickly grabbed the sandwich and the milk from the table and rushed out the door.

Moments earlier, Nora had messaged me about two emergency patients who needed immediate surgery. I had to get there fast.

When I arrived, I realized I was the first surgeon to show up. Nora had clearly been waiting for me.

"The other lead surgeon is out of town and can't make it back in time," she explained. "We're trying to get someone from another hospital, but it's going to take a while.

"One of the patients is in critical condition and has to be operated on within the hour. The other one's not as urgent, but they still need surgery today."

Without hesitation, I replied, "We'll start with the one in critical condition."

Nora grabbed my arm and lowered her voice. "Dr. Ranford, the other patient is Dr. Crowell's father-in-law. He gave strict instructions—he wants him operated on first."

"But he's not in immediate danger, right? If we do his surgery first, the critical patient might not make it. If we prioritize the urgent one, Dr. Crowell's father-in-law still has a chance later."

I did not understand. What difference did it make that the patient was connected to the hospital director? This should be about who needed help the most.

"Dr. Crowell doesn't want to risk anything going wrong while there's no other lead surgeon available," Nora whispered. "And that other patient… he's an elderly man with no family. His neighbor brought him in. He has no kids, so there's no one to sign the surgery consent… Even if…"

"Stop talking." I cut her off, glaring. "We're doctors. It's not our place to decide who matters more. Power should never outweigh a human life. Get the operating room prepped for the old man—now!"

"But…"

"No 'buts.' Move! I'll scrub in right away!"

As soon as I got back to my office, the director's secretary, Elise Tanners, was already waiting. "Dr. Ranford, Dr. Crowell would like to see you."

A sinking feeling hit me. I nodded and followed her.

I arrived at Dr. Crowell's office, but he didn't say a word. He just buried his head in some paperwork and made me stand there for 30 minutes.

"If there's nothing else, Dr. Crowell, I'd like to leave now," I said, finally losing patience,

He slowly looked up. His expression was not regretful—just angry.

"Well, Dr. Ranford. You must have a saint's medical ethics!" Dr. Crowell snapped. "That old man had no family and no one to sign a consent form. Yet, you still dared to operate. If anything had gone wrong, who would've taken responsibility—you or the hospital?"

He slammed the papers in his hand onto the floor and glared at me like I had committed a crime.