A single sponge

The story you are about to read is about a surgeon named Eliot Warren who receives an email from the family of a past patient. Little did he know how bad things were about to get. 

As a trauma surgeon, my job is to assess and correct with efficiency. I am the first to see the patient, and I'm the last to lay eyes on the patient. I do what I can when I can, but no matter what you do. Some people are just a lost cause. I didn't spend much time around my desk. I tried to make my way there once a day to check my emails. Today I took a seat at my desk, taking a deep breath sighing as I snapped off my surgical gloves. I had just gotten out of surgery. The guy was a fighter, but his heart was too weak. 

Time of death--11:07 Am. Those words echoed through my mind. We thought we had it, but there was too much damage. The sound of my computer turning on got drowned out by the sound of sirens outside. I quickly got up, running out of the double doors to the ambulance bay. 

"Get me a trauma gown!" I said as I pulled a pair of gloves over my hands. 

After I finished getting ready, the ambulance pulls up. 

"What do we got?" I asked the EMT. 

"Car vs. Skateboarder." The EMT replied as we raced to a trauma room. 

"Time of death-- 12:20 pm," I said as I pulled the gloves off my aching hands. I let out a sigh of frustration as I exit the trauma room heading back to my desk. 

Scrolling down the list of emails, I stumble upon one with a subtle title. "Funeral?" I said before diving in headfirst to read it. 

The email read:

"Good Morning, Dr. Warren

I regret to inform you that Carson O'Shea. My son. Has passed away due to complications from a surgery that one of your colleagues performed. Carson looked up to you. So in writing this email, I am formally inviting you to speak at his funeral. I heard that you were inside the Operating room with your colleague, and I would like you to come and dictate every last thing that happened in the operating room. 

Sincerely, 

Mr. and Mrs. O'Shea"

As I finished reading, I felt numb. I could feel my heartbeat throughout my whole body. I sat there staring at the screen, thinking about what to say. Without much thought, I quickly began writing up an email.

" Mr. and Mrs. O'shea, I am incredibly sorry for the loss of your son. I remember Carson, and I can confidently say, seeing him was the best part of my day most days. I would be honored to come and speak at the funeral. I remember his surgery vividly. I do have the ability to recall every detail, but I'm afraid it might do more harm than good. If it's what you wish, I would be happy to do it.

Love, 

Dr. Elliot Warren"

"Dr. Warren, we have weighed out the emotional toll, and we feel it would give us insight into Carson's final few months. The funeral is later tonight. I would love for you to be there.

Mr. And Mrs. O'Shea"

"I will be there. 

Dr. Warren." 

The conversation ended quicker than it began. I had agreed to speak at the funeral of a late patient. What would I say? 

I sighed before standing up. 

"Good thing that it's almost time for me to leave anyway," I said 

My pager begins to beep erratically. 

"He's coding! Get a crash cart in here, now!" I heard a nurse yell before I ran in to assist. 

"Okay, what do we got?" I said, beginning chest compressions. 

"I... I don't know!" The nurse said, frantic

"You don't know?!" I listened to his lungs

"Absent breath sounds. I need to put in a chest tube."

"He was having trouble breathing." The nurse said

"And you didn't think to intubate?" I scoffed after finishing the chest tube. 

"How did you ever get through ned school?" I said, starting intubation

"After this patient is stable, I'm leaving, so try not to kill him."

"What are you rushing off for?" The nurse said with a snotty tone.

"I have a funeral, thank you very much." I hear the beeping become slow and steady. 

"If you kill this patient, I'll kill you." I sighed, snapping off yet another pair of gloves. 

I'm on my way to the funeral, wearing a tight-fitting tux. I haven't worn this tux in a while. I'm surprised it still fits. I begin to recall what happened during the surgery, and I can see it in my mind with perfect clarity. A tear comes to my eye as I think about all of the fun times Carson brought myself and all of the hospital staff. He never had a bad thing to say about anyone. It's unfair, but it's life. I sighed as I pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before heading inside. 

"Hey, Dr. Warren." I heard as a woman approached me.

"Please... call me Eliot," I said, the woman grabbing my hand. 

"Thank you for coming. Everyone's almost here. Please, stand up there. You can start talking when the music stops." I nodded. Walking up to the front, standing behind a podium. I look back, seeing a picture of Carson, sighing when I hear the music stop.

I cleared my throat.

"Hello. My name is Dr. Eliot Warren." I began

"I have been invited here to not only grieve the passing of a loyal friend but to speak of his final months." I took a deep breath before continuing. My voice was shaky.

"Carson needed a simple valve replacement. Our cardiothoracic surgeon Dr. Avery Smith was on his case. He wanted me to be in there to assist if something were to go wrong." A single tear fell down my cheek, sniffling.

"We scrubbed in together, and we both went into the O.R. The surgery went perfectly. The sutures were perfect, the valve looked good, but..." I paused 

"What... what did they say was the cause of death?" 

"Sepsis." My face quickly changed as I realized what had happened.

"After every surgery, we are required to count every sponge, every rag, every utensil." My eyes scanned the room as I spoke, looking into the eyes of his friends and family. 

"W...we...we were.. uh... we were...m..missing a..a sponge..." I could see the look on all of their faces as they slowly began to realize what happened.

"We both dug around to try to find the missing sponge, we dug around inside of his chest cavity to try and find it, but we couldn't. So Dr. Smith assumed that he dropped it." 

My breaths become heavy as I think about it.

"I could have sworn that he found it, I... I'm sorry."

My bottom lip quivered.

"Dr. Smith closed him up and brought him into recovery."

I closed my eyes, leaning on the podium. 

"It's my fault," I said, gasping as I try to catch my breath.

"I killed your son, your friend, your loved one." Everyone store as I stand up there, traumatized.

"I'm so sorry." 

I said once more before stepping away from the podium, taking a seat next to his mom. 

"Eliot. There is no need to say sorry. I'm glad you were honest with us. We set you up to fail. There was not a good way to say it." Mrs. O'shea whispered in my ear.

"I think I should go." 

I said, standing. 

"You don't have to." 

I sighed, "I assisted in the procedure that killed your son." 

I began the walk out to my car, seeing the people gawking at me. Once I'm out of the building, I started to cry. The tears streaming down my face as I open my car door. I sat there for the longest time, listening to my thoughts.

"And that is what happened at the funeral." There I sat in a suit and tie. 

"Dr. Warren." My lawyer spoke

"I need you to be completely honest. The family that you talked to is suing on the grounds of malpractice. We need to figure out what to do!" 

I scoffed at her, "Tell me what to do then! I already did it! I spoke to the family about a dear friend. I don't regret that! Plus... Dr. Smith is the one who left a sponge in the kid. Why are you talking to me and not him?" I chuckled, "We're done here." I said before walking out of the room