Page 20 of Crossing the Line (Phoenix Ridge Medical #6)
CARMEN
C armen positioned herself at the monitoring station as Harper approached the simulation equipment, her movements already carrying the confidence Carmen had glimpsed during yesterday's trauma response.
The cardiac simulation displayed a complex scenario: mid-procedure arrhythmia complicated by unstable blood pressure and equipment malfunction.
It was the type of crisis that separated competent interns from exceptional surgeons.
"Patient presents with ventricular tachycardia during a mitral valve repair," Carmen announced, her voice carrying the authority that had guided countless students through similar challenges. "Blood pressure dropping, oxygen saturation declining. What's your assessment?"
Harper's hands moved to the simulated patient's chest, her movements measured despite the artificial nature of the training.
"Checking for pulse—weak and thready. The rapid heartbeat is reducing blood flow.
" Her voice remained steady and professional, but Carmen caught the subtle shift in Harper's posture that indicated her complete engagement with the scenario.
"EKG shows sustained V-tach," Carmen continued, manipulating the simulation parameters. "Available interventions?"
"Immediate synchronized cardioversion since the patient is unstable." Harper's response came without hesitation. "But first, I need to ensure the surgical site is secure and check whether the valve repair could have triggered the rhythm problem."
Carmen felt something tighten in her chest—not anxiety, but recognition. Harper wasn't just reciting textbook protocols. She was thinking like a surgeon, considering multiple factors at once while maintaining focus on the primary crisis.
"The cardioversion is unsuccessful," Carmen said, adding another layer of complexity. "Patient remains in V-tach, blood pressure continues falling."
Harper's hands moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting the simulation controls to represent medicine administration.
"Amiodarone, one-fifty milligrams IV over ten minutes, followed by a continuous infusion if the rhythm converts.
" She paused, studying the monitors. "I’m also concerned about the underlying cause. The timing suggests trauma to the heart’s electrical system during surgery, but this rhythm could also reflect temporary low oxygen or electrolyte imbalance. "
The observation was sophisticated, demonstrating understanding that went far beyond first-year intern level. Carmen found herself leaning forward, genuinely interested in Harper's problem-solving approach rather than simply evaluating her performance.
"Elaborate on that assessment," Carmen said, her teaching instincts fully engaged.
"The valve repair is close to the heart’s conduction pathways," Harper explained.
"If we caused damage, we might see blocked signals or other rhythm problems. But since this is ventricular tachycardia, we also need to rule out ischemia or electrolyte issues. We’re not just treating a heartbeat problem.
We may need immediate surgical revision. "
Harper's explanation was clear, logical, and demonstrated the kind of spatial reasoning that made exceptional cardiac surgeons.
Carmen introduced the next challenge: "Amiodarone is partially effective. The rhythm is converting to a fast, irregular heartbeat, and blood pressure is still low."
Without hesitation, Harper said, "We’ll shock the heart again, but this time I also want to check the valve repair. If the repair isn’t holding, medicine alone won’t be enough to save him."
The simulation continued for another twenty minutes, Carmen introducing increasingly complex scenarios while Harper adapted with impressive flexibility. Equipment glitches, medication adjustments, and secondary complications—each challenge met with thoughtful analysis and appropriate intervention.
What struck Carmen most wasn't just Harper's technical knowledge, but her approach to problem-solving.
She thought systematically, considered multiple possibilities, and demonstrated the kind of calm competence that couldn't be taught.
This was natural surgical instinct combined with exceptional training.
"Simulation complete," Carmen announced, resetting the equipment. "Patient stabilized, rhythm converted to normal sinus, blood pressure normalized."
Harper stepped back from the simulation station, her professional composure intact despite the intensity of the exercise. A slight flush colored her cheeks, the only sign of how completely she'd engaged with the scenario.
"That was..." Carmen paused, searching for appropriate professional language to contain her admiration. "Exceptional work, Harper. Your spatial reasoning and crisis management are remarkable."
The praise came out more personal than Carmen had intended, carrying warmth that went beyond supervisory assessment. Harper's eyes brightened, and for a moment, the careful distance Carmen had been maintaining felt as artificial as the simulation.
"Thank you," Harper said, her voice still breathless. "The scenarios felt incredibly realistic. I could almost forget we weren't actually in surgery."
Carmen felt her professional boundaries wavering as she studied Harper's face flushed with achievement and her eyes bright with the particular satisfaction that came from meeting a complex challenge successfully.
This wasn't the defensive young woman who'd challenged her authority on Monday.
This was a surgeon who belonged in cardiac medicine, someone whose natural abilities matched Carmen's own passion for the specialty.
"Your understanding of cardiac surgery is..." Carmen stopped herself before admitting how impressed she was, how rare it was to work with someone whose instincts complemented her own so naturally.
But the words hung between them anyway, unspoken recognition that what had just occurred went far beyond routine intern education.
"The anatomy makes sense once you visualize the relationships. The mitral valve sits right next to the electrical pathways, so any manipulation in that area carries risk."
Carmen found herself nodding, genuinely engaged in the technical discussion. "Exactly. And your decision to consider surgical revision rather than just medical management shows excellent clinical judgment."
"Sometimes the best medicine is better surgery," Harper said, then paused as if surprised by her own boldness.
The comment was sophisticated, the kind of insight that came from deep understanding rather than rote memorization.
Carmen felt something shift in her chest—not just professional approval, but recognition of a kindred spirit.
How long had it been since she'd worked with someone who truly understood the intellectual beauty of cardiac surgery?
"That's a very mature perspective," Carmen said, moving closer to the monitoring station where Harper stood. "Where did that insight come from?"
Harper's expression grew thoughtful. "I've been reading your published research on valve repair techniques. Your approach to minimizing conduction system trauma is innovative."
Carmen felt heat rise in her cheeks. Harper had been studying her work—not because it was assigned reading, but out of genuine interest. "You've read my valve repair papers?"
"All of them," Harper admitted. "Your study on reducing post-operative arrhythmias changed how I think about surgical approach. The way you balance surgical access with anatomical preservation is…elegant."
The word hung between them, carrying more weight than its clinical context warranted. Carmen felt her carefully maintained professional distance wavering under Harper's genuine admiration—not for her authority or reputation, but for her actual work.
"That study took three years to complete," Carmen said softly. "Most people find the methodology too complex to follow."
"I found it fascinating," Harper replied, her voice warming. "The way you tracked post-operative outcomes and correlated them with specific surgical techniques is like watching you solve a puzzle at the cellular level."
Carmen's breath caught slightly. When was the last time someone had looked at her work and seen art rather than just science? When had anyone understood that surgery was as much about intellectual beauty as technical skill?
"Your own surgical instincts suggest you understand that puzzle intuitively," Carmen said.
"I'd like to learn everything you're willing to teach me," Harper said, stepping closer. "Not just the techniques, but the logic behind them. The way you approach problems, how you make decisions under pressure."
The words should have felt like normal student enthusiasm.
Instead, they carried an intimacy that made Carmen hyperaware of their proximity in the quiet simulation lab.
Harper was asking to understand how Carmen's mind worked, to learn the intellectual processes that defined her identity as a surgeon.
"Teaching is..." Carmen paused, searching for words that wouldn't reveal how much Harper's genuine interest meant to her. "It's rewarding when the student truly understands the complexity involved."
"I want to understand," Harper said, her voice dropping lower. "I want to understand everything about how you think, how you work, what drives your passion for cardiology."
The conversation had shifted into territory that had nothing to do with medical education and everything to do with personal connection. Carmen felt her pulse quicken as Harper moved another step closer, close enough that she could see the gold flecks in her dark eyes.
"Harper," Carmen said, her voice carrying a warning she wasn't sure she meant.
"Carmen," Harper replied, using her first name with deliberate intimacy. "What happened yesterday in the trauma bay, and now this… We work together like we've been partners for years. You can't tell me you don't feel it too."